Godiva cackled. “Oh, I’ve got my pages of Jen and Mr. Hot Stuff. Wait’ll you get an earful—if my description doesn’t set everyone’s panties on fire, I’ll throw my keyboard out the window. . .”
Godiva finished out the short remainder of the drive talking about the changes she’d made to Jen and Nikos in creating her characters.
When they reached Bird’s house on the cliff, Jen found herself searching all the faces until she found Nikos. As soon as he saw her, there was that brief smile that warmed his eyes—and in turn warmed her to the core.
She forced her steps to turn aside toward the kitchen, where she caught sight of Bird bustling about. “Can I do anything to help?”
“Thanks, but no—we’re good—in fact, any more bodies in here and we’ll start crashing around like the Keystone Cops. Go relax and chat!”
Jen went outside and headed toward the barbeque area, to meet pretty much the same friendly rebuff from Joey. “I’ve got it all laid out—from this point I’m faster on my own. Why don’t you go chat with Nikos over there?”
She turned toward Nikos, and met a searching gaze that maybe was a little like her own in trying to read signals. Like, does he really want to talk to me? Did I screw up yesterday? It had occurred to her after lying awake half the previous night that he had said little about himself—but what he’d said didn’t seem to include another woman in his life. He certainly wore no wedding ring. She didn’t think that red stone was the sort of thing a woman would give him—it looked so old it seemed more of a family heirloom.
She knew she’d mostly talked about herself—actually about Robert—but that, she’d concluded, was inevitable. Robert had been the elephant in the room of her life. And Nikos had seemed to accept that. In fact, it was his quiet and sincere appreciation that had decided her that Nikos was worth pursuing.
He crossed the terrace to meet her. He said in that rich, warm voice, “Do you get the sense we’re being thrown together for our own good?”
“Um, they’re not exactly subtle, are they?” Jen asked. “If you’d rather not, I totally understand.”
“I would rather,” he said, “be right here next to you. If that makes me boring and predictable, well, I’ve been called worse things.”
She laughed as they headed for a pair of wicker chairs. He added, “I really like your jacket.”
“Thank you,” she said. “I believe the word now is vintage instead of old as the hills.”
He said, “I have a long coat with a similar history. Belonged to my father. It’s so old that they seem to have come back into fashion.”
At that, she enjoyed a brief, incredibly hot image of him wearing a loose shirt like the days of yore, a long coat, and boots as he strode among the . . . goats? Student martial artists?
Her brain camera stuttered to a stop.
What exactly did he do? This time, it’s you who’s going to talk. “So,” she said, “what is it exactly that you do?”
A faint line puckered between his brow, but there was no corresponding tightening of his mouth, as if he was affronted at the question. It was more like he was . . . puzzled. Then she reminded herself that English was a second language for him, as he said slowly, “Right now, it’s full time—more than full time—teaching as my pair of students learn through travel. They chose this country for their tour. It has been so very long since I was in North America that it is actually an education for us all. But Cleo and Petra are like most teens. The moment we set foot in North America, they demanded to see movies.”
“Movies? Which ones?”
“Any movies. Those being scarce in our island. Not unknown, but we’re fairly isolated. Even cell towers are problematical,” he said. “So we just went to the first cinema we saw . . .”
Jen was soon laughing. The girls had picked the latest Marvel Universe film—and Cleo had been so enchanted she’d insisted they sit through it twice, eating hot dogs both times, because those were such rare and interesting, genuine American foods.
From there they talked about the oddest experiences they had ever had while watching cinemas. Jen said that hers was watching the Barbra Streisand film On a Clear Day You Can See Forever projected on a whitewashed wall high on a mountaintop in the country then known as the Republic of Georgia, which itself seemed a place lifted out of the stream of time. Nikos claimed that his was watching the American film Blazing Saddles while in Paris. He was with a pair of Americans, who were the only ones laughing most of the way through.
From there they traded stories as fast as they could talk until suddenly the meal was ready. And then it was eaten, and she didn’t remember a bite, good as it was. All she knew was that she hadn’t noticed any other conversations, she had been so intent on Nikos. Every time their eyes met, her breath caught on a rush of heat straight down her nerves to pool deep inside her, charging her with anticipation.
Suddenly here was Bird, coming around with warmed rice wine. “Just a tiny cup so we don’t roll into Linette’s smelling like a bar.”
Godiva cackled. “I think that would be fun. Except half the people would want to know why we didn’t bring any to pass around.”
The sun sank behind a brief, luridly glorious sunset, which was swallowed by oncoming clouds. Jen scarcely noticed until suddenly raindrops spattered coldly on her face and hands. Exclaiming and laughing, the group began hastily picking up dishes and carrying things inside.
Jen set her load down and went out to get more, to discover that Joey had stacked everything on the rolling prep table, and he was on his way to the kitchen. There was nothing more to be done. Jen stood alone on the terrace, gazing out at the last bit of light under the low clouds, as rain glinted with sunset colors. She hugged herself, shivering not from the cold—though the temperature was dropping—but with anticipation.
Then Nikos was beside her. He looked down at her, his face in shadow, and she looked up. The buzz of the wine warmed her lips. Reckless, she smiled . . . and the next thing she knew, his hands cupped her face, and hers locked around his waist as their mouths met in a wine-spiced kiss.
The first was quick, a questing kiss. The answer, unspoken, was yes. The second was longer, exploratory, as hot pleasure flashed through every nerve in her body. She melted against his length, molding against him. Here was another layer entirely to the give and take of practice blows and feints and shifts of balance. This layer was as old as time, a wordless duel that was closer to a duet, a mock battle that was also a dance.
The mating dance.