Chapter 3
By the time Bertram MacDougall walked into the Zephyros airport terminal, Alex's patience was already worn thin. He'd had time to reconsider his impulsive invitation to Sandy. While he knew he could handle the next few weeks, he wasn't so certain she would be able to do the same. Alex's tightly knit group of expatriate friends weren't exactly the country-club set. Their unpredictability was enough to send most "settled" people over the wall.
He looked down at Sandy, curled and sleeping in a molded chair, then up at his friend crossing the small terminal. Bertram was wearing his kilt. Alex closed his eyes. "Where's Niko?"
"And hello to you, too, Alexander. Your gracious housekeeper called before supper to tell me her husband's truck hit a goat and would I please fetch Mr. Alex at the airport. I'm very sorry for the delay."
"You'd better plan on dying a day early."
The six-foot-four-inch Scotsman shared his toothy grin and a wave with the remaining terminal personnel before he hooked his thumbs in the top of his kilt and closed one eye at Alex. "And why is that?"
"Because you'll be late to your own funeral if you don't." Alex tapped his watch face. "You're through with your supper by eight. It's now nine. What have you been up to for the last half hour?"
Bertram slapped him on the shoulder, then gave his hand a vehement shake. "Well, if you must know, I've been fine-tunin' me fiddle." He pulled back for a better look at Sandy.
Alex shoved a lock of hair off his forehead. Here we go, he thought.
"And, by the looks of her," his friend continued, "you've been fine-tunin' yours too, laddie." Screwing his mouth into mock disapproval, Bertram picked up several suitcases and headed for the door. "It's a shame you had to break her wrist when you were doin' it. There's such a thing as technique."
Alex closed his eyes. From the moment he'd decided to bring Sandy, he knew he'd be in for a ribbing. Scooping her up, he followed his friend to the minivan, illegally parked by the front door, and settled into the front seat with her. When Bertram had stored the baggage, he climbed in by Alex and started the engine.
"It's about time you shared your fine house with someone."
"Bertram, you know damn well how I feel about this. I work hard at my business, so when I schedule time out here, I don't want to have to entertain someone every minute. Besides, the last time I brought someone out here, she didn't want to leave."
"Laddie, it's those signals you're always sending to the lassies that's put you in this fix."
"I'm not in a fix. What signals?"
"You're a bachelor who's determined he'd like to stay that way. You're also rich, good-looking, and you don't go without a lover for long. Think about the challenge you're presenting to those lassies."
Alex stared out the windshield. The gist of what Bertram had said was true. Right from the beginning he always made it clear to his lovers that he wasn't interested in a long-term commitment. More times than not, they'd taken his words as a challenge. There was that one time he felt certain the woman understood, so he'd brought her to Zephyros. Before the month was up, she'd shipped her entire wardrobe, her art collection, and her three chihuahuas out to the island.
"I'm not challenging this one, Bertram. Her name's Sandy Patterson. She's the widow of an old friend. She had an accident up at Delphi, and I offered her my guest room until she's strong enough to continue her trip."
Bertram shifted gears, then looked out his open window as he pulled away. "Sandy Patterson. And if Sandy Patterson's husband were to rise from his grave, would you be cuddlin' him so close?"
Alex shot a warning glance. "Bertram."
"Well, you could have stretched her out in the back, lad. It's a wonder you haven't cut off the circulation in your—"
"Bertram!"
The Scotsman roared with laughter, causing Sandy to moan, then nuzzle under Alex's chin.
He kept a warning eye on Bertram as he patted Sandy's thigh. No man could ask for a better friend, but Bertram had the bawdiest sense of humor of anyone Alex knew. Alex closed his eyes and rested his chin against Sandy's forehead. "She's on pain medication—which is what you'll be on if you don't stuff it."
"Hurtin', is she?" As they approached the one hairpin turn on the hill road, Bertram slowed the van. He usually took the turn on two wheels.
Grateful for the letup in his ribbing, Alex asked about the second closest thing to Bertram's heart. "How's the gallery? Sales picking up yet, or are you still waiting for the summer cruise ships?"
With almost as much gusto as he'd given to ribbing Alex, Bertram spent the rest of the drive filling Alex in on his art gallery. Half listening, Alex slipped his hand under Sandy's wrist, holding it in what he believed was a more comfortable position. She'd fought against taking pain medication all through the afternoon and early evening. When Alex told her the short flight to Zephyros would be a bumpy one, she finally gave in and took the pills.
Like a curled-up kitten intent on slumber, she slept through the noisy greeting by Alex's housekeeper. As Eleni took charge of a sleeping Sandy, now deposited on the guest-room bed, Bertram and Alex unloaded the van.
"The clan expects you at seven tomorrow night. Don't forget to bring your girl."
"She's not my girl."
"Aye." Bertram shut the back of the van, then climbed into the driver's seat. "Bring your widow friend, then. Taro knows you're back, and he's making something with a black butter sauce."
"Bertram?"
"Speak."
He shook his head. "Nothing. Just wanted to thank you for picking us up tonight."
"Now, laddie, don't go all soft on me," he said with a fake scowl. "Besides, I owed you, didn't I? That last bit of gallery business you sent my way kept me going through the winter."
Alex remained in the driveway long after the minivan's tail lights disappeared. The sound of breaking waves and the scent of the sea filled the air around him, and a sense of peace descended over him. So Taro was making his black butter sauce for tomorrow night's get-together. Bertram was wearing his kilt, which meant he'd been romancing a new lady in his life. And his housekeeper's husband had hit a goat. It sounded like life on Zephyros was rolling along at its usual pace. The interesting part of the reunion would be Sandy's reaction to "the clan," Bertram's favorite description of them. Chuckling to himself, he turned to go in.
"Mr. Alex?"
"Yes, Eleni, how's our guest?"
His short, rotund housekeeper smiled knowingly. "Pretty. Very pretty. It's pleasant for you, no? To bring a very pretty lady to Zephyros."
Better, he decided, to move past her innuendo and into his bedroom for a good night's sleep." Pleasant," he agreed. "Is she sleeping?"
"Soon. She took the pills you gave me. Mr. Alex, she has pretty nightclothes." Eleni's calm expression was meant to tease him. "Come, I will show you."
He patted her gently on the shoulder. "No, thank you. That will be all for tonight."
"Niko is coming to walk me. You don't have to drive me. Mr. Alex, her accident will be healthy soon?"
The concern in her eyes touched him. "Yes, her accident will be healthy soon. Two or three weeks, the doctor says."
"You are a kind man to bring her here. She will thank you. Welcome home, Mr. Alex," she said, before closing the front door behind her.
Alex went to the guest room, telling himself it was only right to check on Sandy. With only a faint light from the bathroom, it was difficult to see her at first, but he had no trouble hearing her restless movements. The tender emotions welling up inside him were unsettling. He forced himself to interpret them as a call to action. Sandy didn't need her recuperation period extended by further injury, so he found another pillow and placed it under her wrist. Before his eyes could adjust to the dim light, he retreated from her bedside. The last thing he needed was a better look at her breasts under that gauzy nightgown.