Miss Prim's Greek Island Fling

‘There always is.’ And whatever it was, she wouldn’t mind honouring it. She’d pay good money to see Finn dressed up like that.

One corner of his mouth had hooked up in a cocky grin, his eyes danced with devilment, and his hair did that ‘slide across his forehead perilously close to his eyes’ thing and her stomach clenched. Hard. She forced her gaze away, reminded herself who he was. And what he was. ‘Well, it might not come with fancy costumes, but playboy adventurer captures the spirit of your childhood aspirations.’

He slanted a glance down at her, the laughter in his eyes turning dark and mocking, though she didn’t know if it was directed at her or himself. ‘Wow,’ he drawled. ‘Written off in one simple phrase. You’ve become a master of the backhanded compliment. Though some might call it character assassination.’

It was her turn to snort. ‘While you’ve perfected drama queen.’ But she found herself biting her lip as she stared unseeing at the nearby shop fronts as they walked along. Had she been too hard, too...dismissive just then? ‘I’m not discounting the fact that you make a lot of money for charity.’

The car races, the mountaineering expeditions, the base jumps were all for terribly worthy causes.

‘And yet she can’t hide her disapproval at my reckless and irresponsible lifestyle,’ he told the sky.

It wasn’t disapproval, but envy. Not that she had any intention of telling him so. All right, there was some disapproval too. She didn’t understand why he had to risk his neck for charity. There were other ways to fundraise, right? Risking his neck just seemed...stupid.

But whatever else Finn was, she’d never accuse him of being stupid.

She was also officially tired of this conversation. She halted outside the bookshop. ‘Our first stop.’

She waited for him to protest but all he did was gesture for her to precede him. ‘After you.’

With a big breath she entered, and crossed her fingers and hoped none of the shopkeepers or villagers would mention her recent troubles when they saw her today. She just wanted to forget all about that for a while.

They moved to different sections of the store—him to Non-Fiction, while she started towards Popular Fiction, stopping along the way to pore over the quaint merchandise that lined the front of the shop—cards and pens, bookmarks in every shape and size, some made from paper while others were made from bits of crocheted string with coloured beads dangling from their tails. A large selection of journals and notebooks greeted her too, followed by bookends and paperweights—everything a booklover could need. How she loved this stuff! On her way out she’d buy a gorgeous notebook. Oh, and bookmarks—one for each book she bought.

She lost herself to browsing the row upon row of books then; most were in Greek but some were in English too. She didn’t know for how long she scanned titles, admired covers and read back-cover blurbs, but she slowly became aware of Finn watching her from where he sat on one of the low stools that were placed intermittently about the shop for customers’ convenience. She surprised a look of affection on his face, and it made her feel bad for sniping at him earlier and dismissing him as a playboy adventurer.

He grinned. ‘You look like you’re having fun.’

‘I am.’ This slow browsing, the measured contemplation of the delights offered up on these shelves—the sheer unrushedness of it all—filled something inside her. She glanced at his hands, his lap, the floor at his feet. ‘You don’t have a book yet.’

He nodded at the stack she held. ‘Are you getting all of those?’

‘I’m getting the French cookbook.’ She’d need a recipe for croissants. ‘And three of these.’

He took the cookbook from her, and then she handed him two women’s fiction titles and a cosy mystery, before putting the others back where they belonged.

‘What would you choose for me?’ His lip curled as he reached forward to flick a disparaging finger at a blockbuster novel from a big-name writer. ‘Something like that?’

‘That’s a historical saga with lots of period detail. I’d have not thought it was your cup of tea at all.’ She suspected the pace would be a bit slow for his taste. ‘The object of the exercise isn’t to make you suffer.’

Amber eyes darker than the whisky he liked but just as intoxicating swung to her and she saw the surprise in their depths. She recalled the affection she’d surprised in his face a moment ago and swallowed. Had she become a complete and utter shrew somewhere over the last year or two? ‘I know that our modus operandi is to tease each other and...and to try to best each other—all in fun, of course.’