Page 6 of Valkyrie Confused

Being me, I have no clue what to do with a compliment, so I let out a noncommittalhrmfand focus on the pancakes he stacks on my plate and the two eggs and generous portion of bacon he places beside them.

So. Good.

The spinach pie—spanakopita—is out of this world, the fillo thick and crispy, and the cheese… everywhere. I close my eyes and moan around the first bite, before quickly taking a second one.

“Glad to see my hard work is appreciated,” Panos says.

I open my eyes. “You made the pie, too?”

“From scratch.” He pops a piece in his mouth and chews slowly, savoring it. Every inch of him is magnetic.

I try not to stare at his tongue when he licks his lips, or the way his Adam’s apple works as he swallows. Unfortunately, I fail, so I own it with a grin. “Panos,” I say, “I believe this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”

He gives me a self-satisfied smile. “And you haven’t even tasted mygalaktoboureko.”

I’ve no clue what that is, but I nod eagerly. “I’ll try anything you give me.” At his arched eyebrow, I check my phrasing. “Make me.Make, in general.” My cheeks are flaming, and this is ridiculous. I’m a grown woman with a failed marriage in the rearview mirror, and I don’t get frazzled in the proximity of hotness.

“I’ll make it for the guests this weekend. I’ll save you a piece if you sayplease.” He leans closer and rubs one corner of my lips with his thumb. “You had a drop of syrup,” he says.

I clench my jaw to keep from leaning into his touch, and watch as he brings his thumb to his mouth, to lick it clean.

The attraction I feel for this man I’ve only just met is irrational. I must still be jetlagged. I don’t believe in raw animal magnetism; my heroines do.

Yup. Still jetlagged.

I sit up straighter and focus on my food, and Panos also digs in with gusto. When my plate is almost empty, I say, “You said you’d give me a tour of the hotel in the morning. When are you done with breakfast service?”

He pops a meatball in his mouth and chews thoughtfully. “We only have guests in two of the rooms until Friday, and they all like an early start to the day, so I should be done around nine.”

“Good.” I dab my mouth with a napkin. “I will be done with my morning writing by then, so we’ll meet at nine, sharp.”

I look up at his chuckle, to find him studying my face. More syrup? I self-consciously wipe at my chin.

“You don’t know much about mountain guesthouses, do you?” he asks.

”No,” I say more haughtily than I meant to. Possibly because buying this place is the only thing in my entire life I didn’t exhaustively think through. ”Why?”

Leaning back in his chair, he takes a sip of what looks like orange juice. “Becausesharpisn’t very attainable when you’re dealing with people who come here to relax.”

I square my shoulders and hold my chin high. This is where I remind him there’s a new sheriff in town. “Well, I dosharp, which means so will you. I’m not a demanding boss, but I do like sticking to a schedule.”

The way he works his jaw looks like he’s biting back a response. In the end, he says, “I don’t do bosses, but in your case, I’ll make an exception.”

It sounds more flirty than defiant, but I don’t fall into the easy banter, tempting though it may be. “I appreciate that. In general, I wake up at five, do my workout, and then have coffee and a couple slices of toast with whatever’s available, at six. I don’t expect you to wake up extra early for me, but if you’re around, know that you don’t need to go the extra mile to feed me like this every day.” I indicate the food on the table with a sweeping gesture. “Then I write until ten.”

“But you said you’d meet me at nine. Sharp.”

“Hence my use ofin general.” I wait for him to nod, then add, "In general, it’s essential that I’m not disturbed during that time.”

“Understood.” His expression is all business now too, which is a relief. And maybe a little disappointing.

“I can involve myself with hotel business from then until lunch, if you need me, but will be unavailable again from two until six, which is when I take my dinner.”

He shakes his head. ”Dinner at six? You’ll fit right in here.”

Is that sarcasm?

”Yes, well…” I’ve run out of steam. ”Anyway, thank you for dinner.” Breakfast? “I should go. You need to sleep too.” I push my chair back, but he stops me with a gentle hand on my shoulder.

---