CHAPTER ONE
THE END OF May had brought glorious seventy-degree weather to Greece, but the morning traffic in Patras was as bad as in Athens. Zoe Perkins, who’d been in Greece since January, doing research on the renowned British poet Lord Byron, was on her way to the dock in a taxi. The ferry to Ithaca would be leaving soon and she couldn’t be late.
“Can’t you go any faster?” she called to the driver again. She’d phoned for a taxi from her one bedroom apartment in downtown Patras, thinking she had plenty of time.
“I am hurrying,” he replied in English over his shoulder.
She looked out the window, frustrated it was taking so long. Suddenly she saw a truck turn into their path from the intersection. “Stop! He’s going to hit—”
They collided before she could say us. The impact shot her forward, but the seat belt kept her from going flying. While she tried to get her heart to calm down, she noticed the driver slumped over the steering wheel. Blood dribbled down the side of his face.
“Oh, no! Are you all right?” she cried out, horrified. He didn’t make a sound. It was her fault for urging him to drive faster. The police hadn’t arrived yet and a crowd had surrounded them. The accident had caused a terrible traffic jam.
Galvanized into action, Zoe undid the seat belt, wanting to get out of the car to help the driver. But as she opened the rear door, she was blocked by a man with a rock-hard physique saying something to her in Greek.
“Please let me out.”
“I’m sorry, kyria, but you might need medical attention. Help is coming.” The man’s deep cultured voice spoken in accented English was disturbingly attractive.
“Thank you, but I’m fine. Honestly! The driver is the one who’s hurt. I tried talking to him, but he isn’t saying anything!”
When he lowered his head, she found herself staring at the most striking, olive-skinned Greek male she’d ever seen in her life. Beneath raven-black hair and brows, his eyes, dark as midnight, studied her features as if to verify she’d spoken the truth.
The thirty-plus-looking male was dressed in an elegant tan silk suit and tie. She assumed he had to be on his way to an important meeting.
“Why don’t we let the paramedics decide.” He didn’t move, and spoke in a tone of authority he probably wasn’t even aware of.
“The poor man.”
“He’s already sitting up, kyria, and has likely broken his nose, nothing else.”
“I—I shouldn’t have told him to drive so fast.” Shock was setting in, causing her to chatter. “I was afraid I’d miss the f-ferry for Ithaca.”
“Was someone going to meet you when you arrived?”
“No, it’s just I was on a tight schedule and there won’t be another one until tomorrow. But it doesn’t matter now because the driver is hurt. He needs help.”
“He’ll be fine. Just try to relax.”
At that moment she heard a siren and the paramedics arrived. They appeared to recognize the stranger immediately. He spoke to them briefly, then moved aside so one of them could talk to her in English. The medic checked her vital signs while the taxi
driver received help and was transported to the ambulance.
Determining that she seemed to be all right, the medic helped her out of the taxi. All that time, the stranger stayed beside her. Zoe hadn’t realized he was so tall, at least six feet two inches of male virility. Maybe the accident had affected her sight, because to her eyes he looked like a Greek god come to life. Her legs felt like mush.
The medic took her information and said he would summon another taxi for her. Before she could answer him, the stranger said, “I’ll drive her to her destination.”
“Efkaristo, Kyrie Gavras.”
Gavras? She’d passed the entrance of a hotel downtown called Gavras House, Patras, many times. Was he that Gavras? Zoe had also seen the name in the news and everywhere she’d been in western Greece during her time here.
“You and I haven’t been officially introduced, Kyria Perkins.” The mention of her name meant he’d heard the information she’d given to the medic. “My name is Andreas Gavras. If you’ll allow me, I’ll take you where you need to go. My limo is waiting.”
“Thank you, but you don’t owe me anything.”
“My driver was right behind the truck that collided with your taxi. I’m the one who called for assistance and would like to be of help. Wouldn’t you do the same for me if our positions were reversed? Where can I take you?”
Think, Zoe. “Maybe back to my apartment. It’s only a few blocks away.”
He reached inside for her purse and handed it to her.
“Thank you.” She’d forgotten she’d left it on the seat.