Page 9 of Love Among the Ruins
“You look like a man of importance …” She bobbed her head as if she couldn’t believe herself that she’d made such a comment. She gestured at his wrist. “Your watch, your sense of self-importance—”
Indignation spiked inside him. “My sense of—”
She held up a finger. “You said you wanted the truth. Can you handle it?”
Nobody had ever spoken to him in this manner before. “Hit me with it.”
“Your sense of self-importance. You think you’re better than me, the way you spoke to me at the taverna, the way you looked at me, the little things you let slip, everything about you screams it, from your clothes right down to your shoes.”
“You must be a designer label junkie to know these things.”
“I’m good at reading people. It’s something you learn to do in my profession. I know about clothes and accessories even if I do not buy these things. Let me guess, you also have a yacht?”
He laughed. “A yacht? No, I don’t.”
“No plans to go to space?”
He marveled at her directness. “Only Athens for this summer. No other plans.” Unless he changed his mind and accepted the invite to Demi’s wedding. They’d had a short summer fling many years ago, and he’d been surprised to receive an invite to her wedding.
“Your point?” he asked, “regarding my so called ‘self-importance’?”
“For such an important man, I find it hard to believe that you would rather hide in a kitchen than go home.”
He wasn’t hiding. He had been bored at the party and upon seeing her had been intrigued enough to follow her. Always surrounded by ‘yes’ men and women, this woman was different enough to make him curious. “I can see why you might think that.”
“Are you going to tell about the food?” Her eyes filled with worry.
“No.” Why would he? “You’re not hurting anyone.” But he wondered how bad things were at home that she had to steal leftovers from a party. “You should take these.” He jerked his chin at the tray. It was bugging him that she refused to.
“Can I get you anything?” she asked, ignoring him and smoothing down her dress. Black and clingy, it hugged her figure like a second skin drawing his attention to her slim, svelte body for the first time. She was striking, now that he’d had a chance to examine her face closely. Brown eyes, and her hair, dark like ink against her olive skin. Her face long and sculpted, was arresting, and when his gaze fell to her lips he had to look away.
“No.” He moved to the countertop and did something so unlike him, he wondered if he was about to have a seizure. “You work two jobs?” he asked, grabbing a napkin to lift the canapes and move them into an empty container. Not only was he talking to a complete stranger, a server, no less, he was helping her to steal food. The Mediterranean air had obviously messed with his head.
“What are you doing?” She stared at him in horror.
“Putting these away for you.”
She frowned. “They’re not leftovers. They’re for the guests. I can’t take those.”
“I’ma guest, and this is my share. Take them.”
She looked at him but refused. He walked over to where she’d stored the other containers and put it in the drawer.
“You work two jobs?” he asked again.
“Some of us have to.” Her words and tone implied an us-and-them.
“I work long hours, too.”
“Are you working now?” Her slender fingers gestured at the surroundings. “Is this a party for you all to network and make deals?”
“All?” What did she think he was a part of?
“These people. Are they friends or business acquaintances?”
“A bit of both.”
“And tonight, is it business or pleasure?”
