My Sexy Greek Summer. Marie Donovan
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Cara supplied.
“Whatever his name is, he sure seems into you.” Emma giggled. “With him around, you can forget about that hippie hiker you were eyeing earlier.”
Cara fought the urge to tell her that Greek men wore sandals, too, and usually despite extremely hairy feet, as well. “I just don’t want to get involved with a Greek guy, Emma. They have the home field advantage, and they don’t go home at the end of the week. I’d rather not spend the rest of the summer ducking down alleys to avoid running into the guy again. Too awkward.”
Emma waved a hand negligently. “Who cares? Move on to the next guy.”
Cara shook her head. Emma just didn’t understand how a small Greek island worked. “All these guys grew up together and half of them are related to each other. It would be like dumping a guy and then dating his brother or cousin.”
“I’m the one going home at the end of the summer, so who cares what the guys think? Besides, if Nick turns out to be as hot as I think he is, I won’t need to look any further.”
“As long as you have a plan,” Cara commented drily.
“You should seriously consider following the same plan. What happens on Aphrodisias stays on Aphrodisias. Oh, look, here they come.”
Cara hadn’t needed Emma to tell her that. Her guy-dar had gone off as soon as Yannis was within ten feet of her.
He slid in the booth next to her. “Your wine, despinis,” he announced with the suavity of an experienced waiter. Across the table, Nick delivered a white wine to Emma.
Cute. He’d called her miss. “Thank you.” Cara took several sips while she thought of something to say. “This wine isn’t what I had before.”
“You like it? It’s one of the island’s vintages. The bartender usually saves it for the locals.”
Cara could already feel its headier buzz rushing through her veins and wondered if he was trying to get her tipsy. “I guess it’s okay.” She felt as if she’d kicked a puppy when Yannis’s face fell. “Well, you must not like it, since you’re drinking a beer.”
“I like it fine. My grandfather makes it from his vineyard.” His sentences were short and clipped.
“Oh.” Well, that certainly was an uncomfortable exchange. She toyed with the stem of her wineglass and looked anywhere but at Yannis.
Her gaze fell on Emma. Her alcohol intolerance was kicking in, and she gave a big yawn before snuggling on Nick’s shoulder.
Cara needed to draw this evening to a close. “Emma, time to go.” Her friend blinked a couple times and then shut her eyes.
“What?” Nick protested. “We just got here. The dancing hasn’t even started.” He wrapped an arm around Emma’s shoulders.
“We also just got here from overseas. Emma’s barely conscious thanks to the booze and jet lag.” Cara tugged her friend out from under his overfriendly embrace. “Besides, Greek men can dance with each other. You two should go for a spin.”
Nick gave her a blank look, but Yannis snorted and replied to his friend in Greek, “Look, Niko, they obviously don’t want to hang around with us.”
“But the blonde does—”
“Her friend’s right. She’s almost passed out. What fun is that?”
Cara broke in then, “Excuse me, please, Yannis.” She scooted into him, and her hip pressed along his. The long muscles of his thigh flexed at the contact, and she felt an answering pull. “Yannis?”
He shook his head and stood, letting her slide free. Emma fussed a bit, but straggled after her.
“You sure you can get her back to your hotel?” Yannis asked. “We can walk with you.” Nick was pouting into his wineglass and didn’t bother seconding Yannis’s offer.
“No, thanks. We’re not far.” Cara tugged Emma’s elbow.
“Nick, we’re at the Aphrodite Bay Villas, Apartment Three,” Emma announced loudly, unfortunately not drunk enough to forget their hotel information. “Call me.”
Nick raised his head and a grin erased his sulky expression. “How do you Americans say it? Oh, yes. Count on it.”
Probably too far into the busy season to find another hotel. Oh, well, Emma was a big girl, and hell-bent on getting her Greek groove on. In the meantime, Cara would try for a handsome tourist who’d be off to another island once the ferry arrived.
“Good night, then.” Yannis gave her a curt nod and sat next to Nick. He reached for her wine and raised it mockingly. “Yia sou.” He toasted her and drained the glass dry. “Ah, delicious. I’ll have to tell my pappous what a good job he did on this vintage. There’s a good reason we save it for ourselves and don’t waste it on tourists.”
She spun on her heel but forgot she was still holding onto Emma, who teetered dangerously on her flimsy shoes. Emma threw her arms around Cara’s shoulders for balance and Cara staggered a bit under the weight. “Come on, Em, straighten up,” she muttered, peeling Emma off her.
“Eh, it’s okay here for women to dance together, too, but most of them wait for the music,” Yannis called.
Cara tossed him a nasty glance and stalked off. The dignity of their exit was ruined, however, by Emma blowing a kiss to the men and giggling again.
Cara finally got them out the door into the warm Grecian night and steered Emma uphill to their villa.
“Cara, the blue-eyed guy likes you! Could be something special.”
Cara groaned. Since meeting Yannis Petrides for the very first time less than eight hours ago, he had almost run her down, she had chewed him out on the street, he had tried to get her tipsy and she had insulted his beloved grandfather’s wine. Special wasn’t the word that came to mind, but the other words that did would shock even a drunken Emma.
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