Fly Me to the Moon (27 page)

“Whatever you say.” He smiled, tugging on Jake’s leash. “But do you mind if I drop him off first?”

I glanced from him to the dog, and while I really didn’t want to swing by his place, I was also kind of relieved he wasn’t going to
leave him outside while we enjoyed our dinner. Those tied-up street dogs always look so sad and anxious. So I just shrugged, followed them into the building, and then completely out of habit, without even thinking, headed straight for the service elevator.

“Where you going?” Dane asked as he and Jake both stopped and gave me a quizzical look.

I just stood there, my face turning every shade of red as my secret life of service elevators and Dane avoidance was exposed. “I—”

And just as I was about to offer some lame, highly implausible, made-up excuse, Maurice, the maintenance guy, walked by and said, “Hey, Hailey. Mind using the regular elevators today? We got a mover and we need the space.”

I looked at Dane, and he smiled at me, and not another word was spoken as we headed upstairs.

“So this is where Jake lives. But I’m pretty lucky, ’cause he lets me stay here too,’ he said, opening the door and allowing Jake to make a mad dash for the kitchen, straight to his water bowl.

I gazed around the beautifully decorated space with the gorgeous old rugs and heavy rustic furniture. “Do you cook?” I asked, noticing the hanging pots, the never-ending spice rack, and what seemed like hundreds of cookbooks arranged on a shelf along the wall.

“A man cannot live on takeout alone.” He smiled, heading down a hall, with Jake following closely behind. “Make yourself at home,” he called. “I’m just gonna change my shirt, and then we’ll split.”

I wandered around his place, peeking into nicely decorated rooms filled with interesting pieces where nothing matched, yet it all managed to be so seamless. I
could live like this,
I thought, forgetting for a moment that I was currently residing several floors up in Kat’s luxurious penthouse. But even though Dane’s home might lack the square footage of Kat’s, it was luxurious in its own way, sort of rough-hewn, warm, and exotic.

At the very end of the hall I discovered a large den with an overstuffed couch, an interesting coffee table, some lamps with Moroccan shades, a large flat-screen TV, and two wall-sized bookcases containing a number of titles, all seemingly categorized. I stood before it, gazing at a large group of political books that fell within my own ideology, a good amount of literary fiction—some that I’d read, some that I pretended I’d read—some signed David Sedaris, Nick Hornby’s entire catalog, an autographed copy of
The Corrections,
and then right there, smack dab in the middle of it all, was the slim, gold-covered book that Cadence had written.

I glanced at the doorway, making sure no one was lurking; then I grabbed it, flipped it open, and scanned the first couple pages for an autograph, lipstick print, or any other kind of personal mark, all the while holding my breath, hoping Dane wouldn’t sneak up on me like he had that day in Barnes & Noble.

And then the second I turned the page I saw it. Directly above the copyright info, in black ink and an elaborate, loopy scrawl, she’d written:

Dane,

Thanks for
everything
! I couldn’t have done it without you!

Cadence

XXX

I just stood there, holding the book and staring at the words until they began to sway and blur. Okay, maybe on the surface it really wasn’t all that intimate. But if you looked a little closer, this thing was like da Vinci’s
The Last Supper
—chock-full of hidden meanings and innuendo.

First there were the XXXs. Well, technically I guess they were
last,
but they definitely stood out the
most,
which made them
first.
I mean, everyone knows that two Xs mean
kiss-kiss.
Hell, even grandmas put that on birthday cards. But
three
Xs? Not so much. No, three Xs definitely meant something more—like several kisses,
or maybe even several
triple-X
kisses. And if that wasn’t enough, then there was that
“I couldn’t have done it without you”
part. What did that even mean? Was he, like, her muse or something? Not to mention that
“everything”
was underlined. And that could mean just about
anything.

I stood there, gazing at the page, hands shaky, forehead sweaty, knowing I’d been a complete fool to ignore my instincts and get sucked into a dinner invitation by a guy who was obviously some kind of creepy, pompous, playboy predator.

“Hailey?” I heard him call as Jake’s nails scraped against the hardwood floors in hot pursuit of me.

Yuf, leave it to the dog to tip him off on my illicit activities. They don’t call ’em
MAN’S
best friend for nothing.

“I was just checking out your library. I’ll be right there,” I said, frantically closing the book and trying to shove it back where it had come from. Watching in dismay as it slipped from my hands, fell to the ground, and landed hard at my feet.

“Ready to go?” he asked, smiling as he leaned in the doorway, dressed in a dark blue V-neck sweater with a crisp white T-shirt underneath.

The book is on the floor! What are you going to do about the book? You can’t just leave it there; he’ll know you’ve been snooping! He’ll think you’re obsessed with that damn book! Just lean down, pick it up, and put it back on thefreakin shelf!

“Do you like Italian?” he asked. “’Cause there’s this great little place not far from here.”

The book, Hailey! Hello? Do something!
“Um, about that,” I said, giving the book a swift kick and glancing down just as it slid all the way under the couch. “You know, I actually have way too much to do between now and tomorrow. So, I think I’m gonna pass.”

“Oh.” I watched his shoulders sink. “Are you sure? ’Cause we can just grab something quick.”

“No, I really should be going,” I said, making my way around the couch.

“Okay. Well, maybe when you get back,” he said as I headed for the door.

And then, leaning down to pet Jake one last time, I gazed up at Dane, and in my artificial, overanimated, Atlas-trained, “welcome aboard” voice said, “Well, see you later!”

Then I walked out the door and headed for the elevator, knowing full well there wouldn’t be a “later.”

By the time the ferry pulled into port, I’d been traveling for more than eighteen hours straight. But having gotten a decent nap on the plane and a little rest on the boat, I wasn’t feeling nearly as bad as I could have.

I grabbed my bags and made my way to the dock, where I scanned the waiting crowd for Kat and her boyfriend, Yanni, whom I was very anxious to meet. But there were so many faces and so much activity that it wasn’t until I nearly gave up that I spotted her.

“Kat!” I yelled, hurrying toward her and struggling to keep my balance as the ship swayed against the strong Meltemi winds.

“How was your flight?” she asked, giving me a quick hug before leading me to an old white Jeep she’d parked nearby.

“Good,” I said, tossing my bags in the back and gazing at the town’s waterfront, noticing how sleepy and quaint it seemed, despite the crazy, winding streets that lay behind.

“Did you sit in business?”

“Not a chance,” I said, opening the door and climbing into the
passenger seat. “It was overflowing with upgrades, mostly newly-weds and nearly deads. Besides, Atlas seems pretty serious about keeping my expectations low.” I laughed. “So tell me, where’s this Yanni guy I’m dying to meet?”

Kat pulled onto a paved road with no lines, no stop signs, and no streetlights. “Yanni is out diving for octopus, so you won’t be meeting him until later. I thought we’d just head up to the villa and relax,” she said.

“Diving for octopus? Is that, like, one of your new hobbies?” I glanced at her, noticing how beautiful she looked with her tanned skin, sun-bleached hair, all-white outfit, and beautiful lapis earrings, the same blue as her eyes. “Island life agrees with you,” I said, frantically gripping the sides of my seat as she suddenly, without warning, threw the Jeep in reverse and backed up a narrow, steep hill to make room for a passing car. “And the way you handle these roads is amazing.” I hoped I didn’t sound as shaken as I felt.

But she just laughed. “It’s like life, Hailey Sometimes you have to back up a little so that you can move forward again,” she said, throwing the Jeep into first and heading back onto the road.

We drove for a while, slowly winding our way up a long, narrow road until finally reaching the summit. “Oh my God, is this really it?” I asked, squinting at a spectacular white villa built in the traditional Mykonian style with its flat roof, smooth walls, and bright blue painted shutters and doors. Limestone walkways led to the front, while a profusion of potted geraniums and climbing bougainvillea bloomed all around.

“Turn around and check out the view,” she said.

I climbed out of the Jeep and gazed at the wide swath of deep blue Aegean Sea, the colorful waterfront cafes of town, the port I’d just sailed into, and the profusion of small white houses dotting the landscape. “It’s like a postcard,” I said, reluctantly turning away. “You must love it here.”

She smiled. “Come inside, and I’ll show you your room.”

Dragging my bag across pristine white marble floors, I hoped I wasn’t leaving a trail of scuff marks as I followed Kat past a living room that was bigger than most Manhattan apartments.

“I hope this will do?” she said, opening a door to a large sumptuous room done in various shades of white.

“It’s perfect,” I said, leaning my scruffy black bag against the smooth white wall then heading for the window that opened to the same amazing view I’d seen from the driveway. “But I’m warning you. I may never leave.”

Kat smiled. “There’s a bathroom through there.” She pointed toward a door in the corner. “And you can nap if you want, since I didn’t plan anything until tonight. I thought you might be tired after traveling so far.”

“Well, I wouldn’t mind a shower,” I admitted.

“Just call if you need anything,” she said, closing the door behind her.

When I woke up, all I could see was white—white walls, white floor, white flokati rugs, white cotton sheets, and transparent white mosquito net fluttering all around.
I’m either in heaven or Greece,
I thought, stretching my arms above my head and glancing at my watch on the glossy white nightstand.
Let’s see, it’s just after one o’clock New York time, plus seven hours . . . oh my God, I slept until eight o’clock?

I jumped out of bed and ran for the bathroom, hurriedly rubbing a washcloth over my face while brushing my teeth. Then I unzipped my bag and put on the first things I saw—a pair of white linen drawstring pants, a tight black tank top, and a pair of flat gold sandals. Then I ran my hands through my hair, tore down the hall, and hoped I wasn’t holding up dinner.

But when I stepped onto the patio, I found Kat and a very
handsome Greek lounging comfortably and enjoying a cloudy-looking drink. “Sorry I overslept,” I said, feeling like the world’s worst houseguest.

But the Greek just laughed and motioned for me to sit. “We eat much later than you’re used to, which makes you just in time for cocktail hour. I’m Yanni.” He smiled, extending a large strong hand, and sparing me one of those limp, wimpy shakes some men give you just because you’re female. “What can I get you?”

“What are you having?” I peered at their glasses.

“Ouzo,” Kat said. “On the rocks with a splash of water.”

“Oh, I don’t know. I drank that at some bar in the Plaka once, on an Athens layover, and I can still remember the headache I suffered the next day.”

“I have retsina; it’s a sort of resinated wine,” Yanni offered.

I hesitated, because truth be told, I didn’t want either. But I also loathed Americans who traveled the world drinking nothing but Budweiser and Coke. “I’ll start with an ouzo,” I said, hoping they had plenty of aspirin on hand for later.

“So, this is your first visit to Mykonos?”

I nodded, taking a tentative sip of my drink, surprised that I actually enjoyed the cool, licorice-like flavor. “I’ve had a few Athens layovers, but I’ve never been to the islands.”

“Well, you’re in luck. Because even though Mykonos is one of the smaller islands, it’s definitely the most beautiful.”

I watched as he smiled and reached for Kat’s hand. With his wavy, silver-streaked hair, tanned skin, and beautiful dark eyes, he was undeniably handsome, though there was nothing vain or smarmy about him. In his beat-up Levis and bare feet, he could easily pass for just another local, and not the politically connected real-estate mogul he was.

“Here’s hoping your time in Mykonos brings you new friends and plenty of adventure!” he said, smiling wide and raising his glass for a toast.
“Stin iyia sas!”

I looked to Kat for translation.

“To your health!” she said, tapping her glass against mine.