Page 62 of Love on the Rocks
The next day, I decided to take a break from anything having to do with Greystone. I hadn’t had a real day off in God knows how long, and they weren’t paying me enough to be obsessing 24/7 about their project. Plus, Gaz had pissed me off playing on my insecurities yesterday.
No, I needed a day to regroup and relax. The weather was warming up, so I was determined to spend a languid morning reading on the terrace. No romance novels this time because I didn’t want to imagine acting out those scenes with Dr. Tall, Dark, and Broody. In fact, I didn’t want to think about him at all.
But, once again, the gods of Lyra had other plans. No sooner had I sat down with my cup of coffee than I heard the whir of a boat engine. I peeked over my magazine—the latest edition ofVoguethat I’d bought in Rhodes—and there he was, in a form-fitting T-shirt and dark swimming trunks, his hair damp andpushed back from his face, except for one unruly curl that I wanted to tweak.
I pretended to ignore him, but he was as determined as ever.
“I’m trying to read if you hadn’t noticed,” I said finally.
“A Pulitzer Prize–winning article about shoes?” he suggested.
“Always so judgmental.” I placed the magazine on the table, trying to ignore the quickening of my pulse. Dammit, why couldn’t I control my body around him? “What do you want?”
“I’m going over to Orpheus’s Cove. Interested in seeing it?” He lowered his sunglasses and wiggled his eyebrows. Those damn eyebrows. They should’ve been illegal.
“Is this another one of your devious plans? Lure me out to sea so you can have your way with me?” I narrowed my eyes at him. He seemed surprisingly chipper for someone who had gotten bad news last night.
His laugh, rich and warm, wrapped around me. “I thought we could go snorkeling. But if the other idea appeals to you more, I’m fine with a change of plans.”
“Snorkeling?”
“Yeah, ever done it?”
“No.” I had always wanted to.
“Ah, good. I get to be your first”—another eyebrow wiggle—“instructor.”
He held up a plastic snorkel. “Come on, I dare you.”
I took a deep breath, willing myself to be strong and behave. “Okay, but I’m not sleeping with you.”
* * *
“This boat is much nicer than the other one. Less smelly too,” I noted as I settled down into the buttery leather cushions. The boat reminded me of something you’d see on Lake Como, glassybrown paneling, shiny chrome railings. It even looked like the seats in the back could be converted to a bed for sunbathing . . . or other activities that I refused to entertain right now.
“It was my grandfather’s. It’s older than I am,” Nikos explained, muscles flexing as he swung the boat around.
“I bet it would have made it to the meeting on time.” I pursed my lips.
“Of course it would have.” He smiled wickedly, his eyes snagging at my mouth. The air between us crackled with tension.
We didn’t speak as we sped past the jagged cliffs behind Kamini. This part of the island was inaccessible by foot so I hadn’t discovered yet. We slowed down when we reached a secluded cove with a tiny pebble beach and an arch-shaped rock at the far end that led to a small grotto. The water was even clearer here, a brilliant aquamarine. I could see all the way down to the sea floor and to what looked like the ruins of an old boat.
“World War II,” Nikos said. “Now home to octopuses.”
He dropped anchor then retrieved his equipment underneath the seats—flippers, masks with tubes.
“You can swim, right?” he teased, sliding onto the bench beside me, so close I could smell his citrusy soap. He brushed my hair aside to put the mask on. My breath caught when his warm fingers grazed my neck and gently tipped my head up. “I have to adjust the strap.”
His face was dangerously close to mine. So close that I could make out the different shades of brown in his eyes, the flecks of gold in dark brown of his iris, rimmed in a deeper mahogany. They were layered and complex, like he was, and they reminded me of images of distant galaxies.
I don’t know how long I stared into them, transfixed, but when I felt myself leaning closer, I jerked away and he dropped his hand, waiting for me to test the fit of the mask for myself.
I tried not to gawk at his taut abs and firm pecs when he removed his shirt or the flex of the phoenix tattoo on his side as he pushed himself off the boat and disappeared into the water with a gentle splash. He surfaced, flicking his dark hair back and smiling at me. He was clearly in his element. “Come on, the water’s not too cold.”
“Why do I have the feeling you’re lying to me again?” I grumbled but obediently slipped my dress off. Normally, I would have been self-conscious about revealing my body in my red bikini—especially after my conversation with Gaz yesterday—but memories of the way Nikos had worshipped every inch of my flesh made me feel powerful and sexy as his eyes slid over me.
That is, until I slipped the plastic flippers on.
