Page 28 of Dagger in the Sea

“You’ve seen the sights?”

“All the usual.”

“You don’t sound impressed.”

“It was all very impressive, I assure you—the Acropolis, the museum, the Agora, Monastiraki. Shopping on Voukourestiou.”

She slanted her head. “Well, very nice.”

“But I had my mind on other things.”

“This woman?”

“Hmm. And you?”

“What about me?” she asked.

“Why were you in a rush just now? Were you escaping?”

“You could say that.”

“I caught you,” came out of my mouth which curved into a grin.

She raised a dark eyebrow, her lips parting. “I don’t like being caught.”

“I don’t either.”

Truth had met truth like theclangof two swords, the shock of first contact. That blue light in her eyes flared at me telling me I’d struck a nerve.

She slid onto the bar stool next to mine, and my pulse suddenly kicked up speed. “I was escaping from an ass.”

I sat down next to her, gesturing to the bartender, bringing my wine glass closer. “Really? A donkey? Here?”

She let out a dry laugh. “He’s the son of a man my father works with, and he always assumes that I should be infatuated with him.”

“You must have a lot of admirers vying for your attention.”

“I do.” Her lips twisted and she released a small sigh. She said that without a hint of egotism. It was plain, simple fact, and somehow, not a pleasant one.

“The last time I saw him,” she continued, “I slighted him and, obviously, he’s still quite upset with me. We just had words, and I walked away a bit too enthusiastically. These new shoes I’m wearing are a bit too high.” She reached down and tugged on a strap of a gladiator sandal with a very high, very slim heel.

My balls tightened at the sight of that webbing of straps climbing up those sexy as fuck legs, of her hand trailing up her sleek thigh.

“Would you like me to set him straight?” I asked.

“Oh, no.” A hand wrapped in a stack of gold bangles touched my wrist, lighting my skin with a prickle of heat. “That’s not necessary. I don’t like scenes.”

The bartender brought over a glass of wine, and I slid it closer to her. “I hope you like wine?”

“Very much, thank you.” She sipped. “Hmm. Good choice.”

I raised my glass. “What does one say here in Greece?”

“Stin iyiá mas.” She raised her glass to mine. “To our health.”

“Stin iyiá mas,” I said, and we both drank.

“Your accent is very good.” She licked her lip.

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