Chapter 2
Stopping on their way up the footpath, Sandy removed her backpack, dropped it to the ground, and pivoted for a better look at Delphi. The sun blazed above them, showering the ruins with crystal-pure light. Books and pictures hadn't done it justice, she mused, as she experienced the mystical power of the ancient site. She pulled in another lungful of cool mountain air. Mystical power, or was it the effect of slightly less oxygen?
Laughing softly, she turned to Alex. "I've never felt so far from Atlanta in all my life."
His smile was one of amusement, and the silent laughter brightening his eyes embarrassed her. He probably thought she looked like a giddy child on her first trip to the circus, or that kid in a candy shop again. Confusion whirled inside her. That's exactly how she did feel, exhilarated with the moment and wanting to share it with someone... special. For a fraction of a second their stares connected, but just as quickly she looked away.
This magnetic pull she felt toward him was incredible. It was getting stronger every time she looked at him, every time he looked at her. She winced inwardly. Could he sense what it was doing to her physically? she wondered, and if he could, was that the reason for his laughing eyes?
Looking back at the ruins, she attempted to untangle the ribbons of nerves knotting in her stomach. A potent case of infatuation, that's all this was. Well, she wasn't so green that she couldn't understand its causes. The excitement of traveling alone in a foreign country couldn't always keep her safe from an occasional moment of loneliness. And Alex, with his golden-god looks, was right beside her. There was also the language. Except for a few food names, she didn't understand a word of Greek, and his mastery of the rhythmic syllables fascinated her. What little he'd told her of himself was fascinating too. He was a self-made man. With no one to back him and no close family to hand him a business, he'd built his export company single-handedly.
He'd propped a foot on a stone block and was resting his corded and well-muscled forearms on his thigh. That hand she'd studied so well yesterday hadn't lost its ability to stir her. His mouth too. His beautiful mouth. And his tongue... as he skimmed it expertly over her breasts and belly. She closed her eyes. Sex, she thought boldly, or the lack of it. Her close girlfriends had all agreed. "Sooner or later, Sandy, the need will come back." If they only knew. She shifted her weight from one foot to another as she tried to force her thoughts away from those disturbing images. Her path into a world of independence, not to mention her morals, had no place for one-night stands or vacation flings. Yet something beneath Alex's handsome exterior, something beyond the normal mating needs of man and woman, something poignant and compelling, was tugging her to him.
"Sandy?"
She felt her heart skipping beats again. "Yes?"
"You're not the only one feeling it."
Short of fleeing down the footpath and hijacking a tour bus back to Athens, there was no escape.
"Really?" Her voice was a whisper on the breeze.
"Delphi packs a pretty powerful wallop, no matter how many times I've been here."
She forced a weak smile. At least he wasn't adding fuel to her fiery infatuation by whispering something romantic. "A wallop. Definitely a wallop."
"Yes. I'd almost forgotten how it hits a person the first time. Your face, your eyes, they bring it back to me."
She repeated the words silently. Your face, your eyes, they bring it back to me. The sweet simplicity of his words settled softly into her heart. Squinting at the ruins below, she pulled out her newly purchased map of Delphi and began unfolding it.
"Alex, what is that circle of marble blocks? Do you know?" Before she could turn to look at him, he was beside her, his breath warm against her cheek. That would have been hard enough to handle, but when he touched her hand to steady the map, a stinging rush of blood flooded every sensitive spot on her body. He smelled like leather and limes and, best of all, his own natural scent. Clean and masculine.
If she lifted her mouth, and he lowered his—Lord, would this day ever end?
At that moment a puff of wind snatched the map from one of her hands. Her reaction was immediate, and so were the consequences.
Digging her heels into the path, she bent her knees and grabbed at the air. His arms went around her waist in the same instant she started her slow skid. Her inelegant maneuvers were no match for his strength. Still, she fought for purchase, praying she would right herself before she had to lean back into his embrace. Stones scattered everywhere, and the soft brown dirt began filling her shoes. She knew she was going to lose with either choice when he stepped closer and she felt her backside burrowing against his masculinity. Why did it have to feel so damn good?
"Relax, I've got you."
"I'm okay," she lied.
He wasn't letting go.
Defeat never felt so fine as she closed her eyes, let go of the flapping map, and leaned back. His navy cotton sweater did little to soften the hard planes of his body. She consoled herself with the notion that the worst of it was over. It wasn't. The soles of her shoes slipped over several more stones, and her feet went out from under her. As she settled closer to the ground, first his arm, then his hand, slid over one breast. She felt his fingertips kneading the soft mound, then flattening it to her chest. The contact lasted less than two seconds, but it was enough to send an electrifying current throughout her entire body.
"I told you to relax," he said, an air of apology apparent in his voice.
She brushed nonexistent dust from her sleeves. "And I told you I was okay."
"But you weren't."
She opened her mouth to argue, but to do so would make her look foolish. And that she already looked. Or maybe only funny. "Well, thanks for saving my life."
The words were melodramatic in nature and— she realized too late—a perfect lead-in for his comeback.
"It was my pleasure."
She'd set herself up for that one. Staring at the dusty hill, she dragged her backpack off the steep incline and into the grassy ruins. "Well, anyway, that was a good map."
"I can see it from here. Will you be okay if I go after it?"
Slitting her eyes, she tightened her jaw, making her words barely understandable. "I'll brace myself against this cornerstone and try to hold on until you get back."
He started down the hill, then stopped his jaunty descent to look up at her. "Sandy?"
She looked up from emptying her shoe. "Yes?"
"Don't hesitate to call me if you feel yourself slipping again."
Sinking down on the grass, she couldn't help grinning over the wink accompanying his words. Despite the recent embarrassment when his hand cupped her breast, she was glad to see him relaxing with her. Although he'd been trying hard to hide it, she was beginning to recognize hints of a great sense of humor. And it was about time. He'd been a perfect gentleman on the drive up from Athens. Stiflingly perfect. During the drive he'd listened attentively as she told him about Jackson's civic, social, and political accomplishments. About their house and his low golf score. Even that he'd been part owner of a racehorse. But when she should have been telling him about Jackson's final days, a gaping silence filled the space between them. Unless Alex asked outright about that time, she had no desire to bring up those painful memories. He'd finally taken the initiative and told her how his own vacation to Greece had become the major transition period of his life. In search of the perfect flokati rug, he ended up, two years later, exporting them all over the world.
While she waited for him to return with the map, she pulled out her sketch pad and was well into her composition by the time he'd returned. As he tucked the map into her backpack, she looked up from her sketching. "Thanks. I'll be through with this in just a second. It's probably time to leave for your rug factory."
He sat down, stretching out those long chino-clad legs of his alongside hers and planting his elbow in a clump of grass. "Don't hurry. There's plenty of time." His cheek rested in the cup of his hand as he watched the pencil
sketch taking shape.
"A hobby?"
"Oh, I couldn't have this as a hobby."
"Couldn't? Hmmm."
His questioning tone begged to hear more, but when she didn't offer, he pulled off his sweater, bunched it behind him, and, reclining, closed his eyes. It would have been a luxury to be able to accept his companionable silence, because she'd had little of that in her life. She lifted her pencil from the pad. If she didn't give him an explanation now, he might ask a more direct question she wouldn't be able to sidestep.
"I guess I meant to say I've always wanted this to be more than a hobby. For years the only drawings I did were posters for the garden club. You see, I was kept—I mean, was quite busy as Jackson's wife."
She waited for his reaction, but when there was none, she dismissed the fear. So much was behind her, and there was no reason to look back. With a little more wistfulness than she would have liked, she said, "I'd forgotten how good it feels to put a pencil to paper and draw what I want to draw."
His words came muffled in drowsiness. "Well, this is the place to make pretty pictures." He drew in a long breath, then exhaled contentedly. "Where are you planning to travel, by the way?"
"The islands."
From the corner of her eye she saw him raise up on both elbows.
"Which islands?"
"Mykonos. Santorini. Crete." Twisting her head to face him, she noticed the tiniest signs of alertness that hadn't been there a moment ago. She also noticed pieces of grass stuck in his collar and a lock of hair dangling on the side of his forehead. She picked the grass from his collar, then looked into his sexy, bottomless eyes. "And maybe I'll come back here. This place does pack a wallop," she said, surprising herself with the whispery quality of her own voice.
He was the first to look away as he turned toward her sketch pad. Pulling himself into a sitting position beside her, he took the pad and studied it. "You kept the power in the toppled columns, but softened them with shadows. They look like sleeping giants." He looked at her with a different kind of awareness when he passed the pad back to her lap. "Sandy, you're much too good to call this a hobby."
Then it happened again. His fingers brushed hers, sending sparks up her arm and through her body. No, she told herself, it was his compliment and not his touch that warmed her. Anyone would be thrilled by such sincerity. Even if it came from the devil himself. "Thank you."
Putting away the sketch pad, she clasped her hands around her knees and looked away from him. A yellow butterfly circled a clump of bright red poppies, then suddenly took off. Not that she wanted to boast, but it might keep her mind off him if she told him she'd been accepted by one of the most prestigious art schools in Chicago. She turned to tell him when a group of raucous children rushed by, sending sprays of pebbles and dust everywhere. Although she didn't understand Greek, their message was instantly understandable. They were out of the classroom on a glorious spring day, and their attitude was infectious. Waving away the dust, she coughed theatrically. "I believe Delphi's being invaded by the barbarians again."
Alex looked up the path toward the shouting children. "Nah. Too well dressed for barbarians."
She giggled at his quick comeback. Some of the children were singing the explicit words of a popular rap song. Alex smiled and shook his head. The words became more explicit. Soon Sandy was laughing, and he joined her. His masculine timbre covered her like a warm, familiar hug until the last of it, along with the song, echoed down the ruins.
He was twisting his university ring around and around his finger as they continued a playful game of staring each other down. They were completely alone now, and she leaned toward him on her forearm. "I'll bet you were a very naughty schoolboy."
Never breaking their gaze, he nodded in serious agreement. "Very naughty."
Mesmerized by his low voice and the sparkling blue of his eyes, she whispered back, "How naughty?"
"This naughty."
Cupping her chin in his fingers, he brushed his lips against hers, then pulled back. His kiss was the last thing she'd expected, but her own response surprised her more. "That's not so naughty."
Without a word he slipped his arm around her and drew her close for another try. He began the kiss, like the first, with a passing brush at her lips. It's only a kiss, she told herself, about the time he began gently nipping at her mouth. The sensation of his touch spilled through her like liquid sunshine, and soon her mouth tingled for the attention he was lavishing at its corners. I can stop this anytime I feel like it. She closed her eyes. With a slight suction he sealed her lips to his. Dipping his tongue into her mouth, he probed with a swirling swiftness that brought her breasts to pebbly peaks. He'd been polite. He'd been helpful. He'd even been funny, but this was a different Alex Stoner. Passionate. Inviting. Arousing. And aroused. He pressed his length against her as he continued the kiss. Penetrating deeply with his tongue, he rhythmically stroked the sensitive recesses of her mouth. She groaned with the overwhelming pleasure he was giving her. No one had ever kissed her like this. She'd never imagined a kiss could be like this.
Alex Stoner was about to go over the brink, and if it hadn't been for that sound she was making, he'd have forgotten where he was and whom he was with. Breaking the kiss, he lifted his head and stared into her half-closed eyes. Their longing made his heart cringe and his arousal stronger. She smelled like honeysuckle on a hot summer day and tasted like it too. Honeysuckle. That fragile-looking vine that flourished on white picket fences and up trellised terraces on the right side of the tracks. Why the hell was she with him?
He released her, then sat up and reached into his shirt pocket for a cigarette. "Naughty enough for you?"
With flaming cheeks, she sat up and pushed her fingers through her hair. "Quite."
He knew he'd wounded her with his sarcasm, but it would be wrong to allow her to read anything into the moment. Having gotten way out of hand, the kiss had become intense, passionate, and much too revealing. Angry with himself, he bit off the question, "Why the hell did you come to Greece?"
She didn't bother to face him." I told you .I'd always wanted to see Greece, and I'd promised to give you those things of Jackson's."
Taking her by the shoulders, he twisted her around to face him. "The real reason."
Determination glowed in her eyes. "The real reason, Alex, as trite as it might sound, is that I'm here to test myself. To see what I'm capable of. To find some answers. No matter how well intentioned some people are, they haven't any right to tell me what I can't do or to force me to live any way other than my own way. And maybe I don't know what my own way is yet, but it's time I found out."
Confusion and embarrassment clouded her eyes, and earnestness took over where anger left off. Her soft southern drawl wrenched at his gut.
"Alex, I have so many questions."
He looked her over. "What questions? Sandy, you have everything back there in Atlanta. You're a respectable member of your community. You have friends, and a family who care about you. A place you call home. It sounds pretty damned perfect to me. So rather than traipsing around the Greek islands, kissing naughty boys, I think you'd be much better off, much safer, if you were back in Atlanta in that perfect life."
Her laugh was short and sharp. "I thought for a moment there that you might be someone who would understand."
"Understand what?"
"I had a perfect life—now I want a real one."
Shrugging free from his hold, she stood up. "And who asked you, anyway?" Grabbing her backpack, she stepped over his legs, out onto the path, and promptly slipped and fell. The pain in her wrist was immediate and astounding.