Page 44 of Love on the Rocks
“Partners?”
“Yes, you’re going to help me prove Nikos wrong.”
Chapter 17
“Relax,asteri mou, it is not my intention to make love to a woman who does not want to be in my bed. I know that tomorrow or after tomorrow you will be pleading with me to take you. Tonight, I will let you touch me as you want. Roughly or not.”
A satin scarf was tied around Mia’s head. It smelled of him, as did everything in the room. All her other senses were heightened. When her fingers grazed his arm, it was as if her entire body blossomed with awareness of silken skin and heat.
- One Week with the Greek
CALLIE
Everything was in bloom.
If the island was beautiful before, over the next week it transformed into a veritable wonderland.
The cherry tree outside my house drooped with pale-pink blossoms, and bees buzzed drunkenly in the thick, fragrant branches. Wildflowers poked their colorful heads out of the craggy rocks that dotted the hills. The air was fragrant with thyme and rosemary.
I longed to go exploring but was condemned by my wonky ankle to stare wistfully at the glorious transformation of the island from my window. I’d abandoned my crutches days ago,but I still had a slight limp, which thankfully did not prevent me from developing a long list of new plans for my restaurant and the resort. And on my own, I should add, since Greystone was of absolutely no help.
I’d gone over the original plans that Fred had sent me, but they were superficial at best and didn’t answer any of the questions that were important to the locals: What impact would it have on the environment and their already limited resources? How would it affect their lives in terms of energy, water, and noise pollution? Who would shoulder the cost for new infrastructure? This project had tentacles: far-reaching consequences that would affect more than tourism. I could see that now.
When I called Fred to get more details about the project, however, he was evasive as usual. “Ms. McGinn you don’t need to worry about any of this right now. Our priority is getting construction started so we can meet Mr. Greystone’s deadline.”
Fuck Greystone and his deadlines, I wanted to yell in the phone. But I held my tongue. “Fred, I’m here to argue our case and get the local population behind us. How will I do that if I can’t answer the most basic questions about how the resort will affect their lives?”
“I can try to get more detailed plans to you.”
“You do that, Fred.” I hung up annoyed. Why weren’t they being forthcoming with me? How was I supposed to put my mark on the restaurant when there wasn’t even a blank canvas to work from?
The one area I could control was my food. The days I’d spent cooking in Maria’s taverna had inspired my concept for the restaurant: It would be an ode to the cultures and food traditions that had influenced the island—a marriage of spices from the East and North Africa with the brighter flavors of the Mediterranean.
Another unexpected source of inspiration was Nikos’s grandfather’s book, and his half-finished translation. It was a veritable encyclopedia of the island, its myths, and history. I flipped through its well-worn pages, studying the black-and-white photos of men lined up in the port holding enormous sponges the size of rocks. Apparently, the sponge and pumice trade had made the island’s fortune a century ago. I could already imagine using sponge cake and herb-infused foam to create atromp-l’oeildish, an ode to the island’s famous export. When I turned to the next page, there was another photo showing a group of older women in black dresses and scarves on their heads picking wild herbs from the hillside.
“Oh, brilliant!” If only my damn ankle wasn’t preventing me from trekking up the hillside in search of wild greens.
I guess I’d just have to settle for another trip to the market. The store on this side of the island was run by the identical twin of the woman who ran the market near the harbor. When I first went inside, I thought my pain pills were making me delirious. It was only after staring at the poor woman for a long, awkward minute that I realized she had a slightly different haircut and was a bit thinner than her sister. And her English was much better.
When I pushed the door open, her face brightened. “Ah, Calliemou! You like the food I send for you?”
I’d received a surprise delivery basket filled with local specialties just the day before. I assumed Yiannis had sent it. “Ah, yes, thank you, an excellent selection. Yiannis has good taste.”
“Ochi. Nikos.”
I had to bite my lip to keep from cursing. If he thought some fresh tahini and preserved quince would buy him forgiveness, he had another think coming.
I was just coming out of the market with a bag full of soft, ripe goat’s cheese and fresh apricots when I ran into Maria. She hugged me hard and peeked into my basket, inspecting my purchases, before showing me what was inside the canvas bag she was carrying. I gasped. It was full of beautiful greens, fresh herbs, and capers the size of dimes.
“Where did you get this? Can you show me?” I mimed walking up the hill.
“Po, po, po!” She shook her head and gestured to my ankle and led me to a bench in the town square where some of the boys were playing basketball. My eyes were immediately drawn to the tall figure shooting the ball into the old, rusted hoop.
In a white tank and loose sport pants, his golden skin glistening with sweat, Nikos was so distracting I couldn’t focus on Maria’s goodies. When one of the boys tripped, Nikos helped him up, ruffling the boy’s hair and laughing. I hadn’t seen him laugh since I got here—not a real laugh anyway—those teasing smirks didn’t count. It changed his entire face, made him seem younger. And annoyingly charming.
He stopped laughing when our eyes met and he jogged over to us. He greeted Maria with a kiss, but his eyes never left mine. Then Maria was speaking a mile a minute, gesticulating at me, tattling on me no doubt, and his eyes dropped to my ankle. “I’d really like to take a look at that ankle again.”
“I’m sure you would, but it will be a cold day in Hades before I let you touch me,” I responded, adjusting the hem of my long dress over my foot.
