comfort. Every time she met him she was careful to give him absolutely nothing to question later. She even tucked her cell phone out of sight so he didn’t suspect she was recording him. If she was 100 percent right about him, his paranoia would slowly be growing.
Also, she really needed to get some groceries. Milk, coffee, bread. She tapped the pen against her teeth as she watched people walk by. Salad, carrots, soda. The chair next to her scraped out and she looked up with a big smile that stayed on her face for less than a second.
“Simon. What the fuck?” She looked around to see if anyone was watching them. “You have to go. I’m expecting someone.” Goddamn him. She swore if the waiter had left the silverware that had been wrapped in a napkin on the table, she’d be holding the knife to his jugular.
“What’s the matter? You think your boyfriend won’t want to see me? Won’t want to know what we did last night?” He looked around, as if searching for a waiter to order a drink.
She decided on a play. Not perfect, but it would do the job for now. She lowered her voice. “Look, please go. He’s a sweet boy, but he’s going to get super jealous if he sees you.” She cast her eyes down slowly as if she couldn’t bear to meet his eyes. “I know I did a”—pause, swallow—“terrible thing last night, and I’m really sorry. But please don’t get me in trouble with my boyfriend.” She slid her gaze back up to his.
Concern was etched on his face, and his eyes searched hers for the truth, but he obviously found no reason to disbelieve her.
Inside she celebrated. Outside, she bit her lip and frowned very lightly.
“I’ll leave now if you promise to meet me later,” he said, getting up.
“Anything. Absolutely,” she replied, relief gushing through her.
“This restaurant at eight.” He handed her the type of card you pick up at a hotel from one of those wooden dispensers near the elevators.
“Eight. Okay. It’s a—” She hesitated.
He swooped down, blocking out the sun, and kissed her. Heat rose inside. It was over before it had begun, but his lips seared her skin. “Yeah. It is,” he said as he left.
She watched as he wove between the tables and away from the restaurant. Her heartbeat steadied, and she looked again for Platon. No sign of him. She went back to her shopping list but didn’t even see the words. That had been terrifying. But the kiss…She shook that out of her mind and concentrated on the important outrage. Weeks of work could have been flushed down the toilet, not to mention the fact that there was a chance that she was mere steps away from cracking an awful scheme. She steadied her breath and counted the number of taps she made on the paper with her pen. Counting was soothing for her.
Eventually she added eggs to the list, just as Platon arrived. He’d obviously been running. She smiled.
“I am so sorry to be late,” he said in his charming English.
“I forgive you,” she said, grinning and turning up her face so he could kiss her. His kiss smelled of sun and fresh air. Why wasn’t he just an ordinary, fun guy who could help her take her mind—and anger—away from Simon?
He sat and made some special Greek sign for beers. Maybe they just knew him. The one time she’d tried it, the waiter had brought her a menu instead of a beer. “What are you doing, koukla mou ?” he asked as he laid an arm along the back of his chair.
“Just making a shopping list. My apartment is virtually empty of food!” she said. “I think I have a tomato and an old piece of cheese.”
He laughed, as she’d meant him to. “I can’t believe I still haven’t seen your apartment after all this time,” he said with a lazy smile that anyone would interpret as a come-on.
“You’ll get to see it…eventually.” She winked at him and he laughed again.
“You are lucky I have so many things to do all the time or I’m sure I’d follow you home and make you show me,” he
Also, she really needed to get some groceries. Milk, coffee, bread. She tapped the pen against her teeth as she watched people walk by. Salad, carrots, soda. The chair next to her scraped out and she looked up with a big smile that stayed on her face for less than a second.
“Simon. What the fuck?” She looked around to see if anyone was watching them. “You have to go. I’m expecting someone.” Goddamn him. She swore if the waiter had left the silverware that had been wrapped in a napkin on the table, she’d be holding the knife to his jugular.
“What’s the matter? You think your boyfriend won’t want to see me? Won’t want to know what we did last night?” He looked around, as if searching for a waiter to order a drink.
She decided on a play. Not perfect, but it would do the job for now. She lowered her voice. “Look, please go. He’s a sweet boy, but he’s going to get super jealous if he sees you.” She cast her eyes down slowly as if she couldn’t bear to meet his eyes. “I know I did a”—pause, swallow—“terrible thing last night, and I’m really sorry. But please don’t get me in trouble with my boyfriend.” She slid her gaze back up to his.
Concern was etched on his face, and his eyes searched hers for the truth, but he obviously found no reason to disbelieve her.
Inside she celebrated. Outside, she bit her lip and frowned very lightly.
“I’ll leave now if you promise to meet me later,” he said, getting up.
“Anything. Absolutely,” she replied, relief gushing through her.
“This restaurant at eight.” He handed her the type of card you pick up at a hotel from one of those wooden dispensers near the elevators.
“Eight. Okay. It’s a—” She hesitated.
He swooped down, blocking out the sun, and kissed her. Heat rose inside. It was over before it had begun, but his lips seared her skin. “Yeah. It is,” he said as he left.
She watched as he wove between the tables and away from the restaurant. Her heartbeat steadied, and she looked again for Platon. No sign of him. She went back to her shopping list but didn’t even see the words. That had been terrifying. But the kiss…She shook that out of her mind and concentrated on the important outrage. Weeks of work could have been flushed down the toilet, not to mention the fact that there was a chance that she was mere steps away from cracking an awful scheme. She steadied her breath and counted the number of taps she made on the paper with her pen. Counting was soothing for her.
Eventually she added eggs to the list, just as Platon arrived. He’d obviously been running. She smiled.
“I am so sorry to be late,” he said in his charming English.
“I forgive you,” she said, grinning and turning up her face so he could kiss her. His kiss smelled of sun and fresh air. Why wasn’t he just an ordinary, fun guy who could help her take her mind—and anger—away from Simon?
He sat and made some special Greek sign for beers. Maybe they just knew him. The one time she’d tried it, the waiter had brought her a menu instead of a beer. “What are you doing, koukla mou ?” he asked as he laid an arm along the back of his chair.
“Just making a shopping list. My apartment is virtually empty of food!” she said. “I think I have a tomato and an old piece of cheese.”
He laughed, as she’d meant him to. “I can’t believe I still haven’t seen your apartment after all this time,” he said with a lazy smile that anyone would interpret as a come-on.
“You’ll get to see it…eventually.” She winked at him and he laughed again.
“You are lucky I have so many things to do all the time or I’m sure I’d follow you home and make you show me,” he
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