Page 63 of Love on the Rocks
Taking a deep breath and closing my eyes, I pushed myself off the boat. I always experienced a moment of panic when I jumped in the water, the result of a swimming accident when I was a kid. But I’d refused to let it control me and learned to swim anyway. I wasn’t the best swimmer, but I no longer feared the water. Still, much to my embarrassment, I couldn’t help reaching out for Nikos as I went under and found myself surfacing in his arms, his face inches from mine.
“You okay?” he asked. Tiny waves lapped around us, as our bodies tangled together under the water. He clasped me to him as I caught my breath, holding me securely in his strong arms.
I nodded. “Fine.”
More than fine. I’d never felt so supported, like I could float freely in the circle of his arms. I didn’t want him to let me go, and the realization made me push away. “I don’t know what your definition of warm is, but this isn’t it.”
“It’s warmer in the shallows. Come here, let me adjust your mask.” Obediently, I swam over to him and let him fiddle with the transparent straps and attach the tube. He pulled his own on then gestured for me to follow him. I panicked at first, afraidthat water would get in my breathing tube, but Nikos was patient and, little by little, I forgot my fear and got lost in the aquatic world beneath us.
“Have you ever seen an octopus’s garden?” Nikos asked as we swam closer to the grotto.
“You mean like in the song? No.” We dove back down, and he showed me where octopuses had stockpiled shells and old glass bottles. One little creature had squeezed itself into a half-broken jar.
We swam through a school of tiny silver-blue fish and bright red barbounia. In the shallower waters, I spotted a red starfish and a seahorse. The ocean was its own universe and I marveled at each new discovery.
Nikos led me over to the jagged rocks near the grotto and pointed to a patch of bright green seaweed on the shore.
“This is what I wanted to show you,” he said as we stepped onto the beach and picked our way over to the rocks. “Kritamo. A delicacy of the island.”
“Really?” My curiosity was piqued. We pulled a couple handfuls from the rock, and I stuffed them in my bathing suit top to take them back to the boat, making Nikos laugh. I’d never seen him in such a good mood. It was confusing, considering the news he had gotten yesterday.
By the time we made it back to the boat, I was exhausted yet energized. My fingertips were wrinkled, and I had seaweed dangling out of my bikini top. Not the sexiest look ever, but I didn’t care.
“Here, that can’t be comfortable.” Nikos tossed me a small net, nodding toward the green sprigs decorating my cleavage. “If you need help getting those out . . .”
“I think I can handle it.” I turned my back to him to retrieve the slippery seaweed, and when I turned around, he still had that crooked smile on his face.
“So what was this little outing about?” I took the bottle of water that he handed to me and gulped it down.
“What? Do you think I always have ulterior motives?” He looked legitimately baffled.
“Um, yes?” I laughed. I laid out the strands of seaweed on a towel. “Can these be eaten raw?”
“Sure. You can also steam them. I’ll show you a recipe back at your place.”
“Oh, you’re not coming to my place. You might steal another book.” I peeked at him from under my wet lashes and found him studying me with a kind of rapt intensity that was completely unnerving.
“Fine. I’ll show you at my place.”
“You don’t know when to give up, do you?”
“I never give up.” He winked as he turned on the motor, spinning us back toward Kamini.
* * *
Once inside, Nikos kicked his sandals off and headed straight for his bathroom. “I’m going to take a shower. If you want, you can . . .”
“Join you?” I choked out a laugh, although the idea made my entire body warm. “No, that’s not happening.”
“I was going to say that if you want to go first, there are towels in the hall closet.” He pulled one out and threw it at me. It was soft and smelled like laundry detergent and sunshine.
“No, you go ahead.”
I tried not to concentrate on the sound of the shower, imagining him in there, water running over every glorious plane of his body.Careful, Cal, if you keep it up, you’re not going to make it even a day into your no-sex-with-Nikos resolution.
I distracted myself by going through his fridge, which was always very revealing of someone’s tastes and organizational skills. He was, of course, impeccable in both. By the time he came out, smelling of that citrusy soap, I’d made a tidy pile of ingredients I wanted to experiment with. “I know the bread is Maria’s and the wine is Stamatis’s, but who makes that horrifically stinky cheese?”
“Believe it or not, the monastery. Taste it.”
