Greek for Beginners (6 page)

* * *

Nick's frank reply and the accompanying intimate smile sent a spurt of pure lust coursing through Darcie's veins. The excitement churning away inside frightened her a little. It was so foreign. It seemed forbidden. But it wasn't, she reminded herself. She was a single woman, a consenting adult. Heck, if she were being truthful, she was a parched patch of desert desperate for a good dousing of rain. Bring on the storm.

“If you continue to look at me like that, I will be tempted to forego dinner and return to your hotel instead,” Nick told her. Once again, his words were blunt. His smile bordered on sinful.

She called herself a chicken, but decided to play it safe.

“Sorry, I was just thinking about...all of the changes that have occurred in my life recently. Maybe more are in order.” Warming to the notion, she added, “God knows, the timing couldn't be better. I need to find a new place to live. Why not a new job, too?”

It wasn't as if anything tied her to
Automobile Enthusiasts Monthly
. The pay was mediocre, the benefits were crap. She'd only taken the position after she and Tad became serious. At the time, with some help from him, she'd convinced herself that a career in New York was a pipe dream. Settling down in Buffalo with reliable if tedious employment and a future with Tad
—
those were what had mattered, what she had wanted most.

“You are at a crossroads,” Nick said. Up ahead, the light turned red and he slowed the Shelby to a stop.

Darcie gestured with her hand. “It's really more like this busy intersection, but with no working traffic light.”

“Ah, then you need to take care in getting to the other side.”

Treading carefully, that was how she'd spent the past several years. Feeling reckless now, she said, “Or I could just run like hell and hope for the best. After all, we've established that I am adventurous.”

“I like your style.” Nick's hand left the gearshift to caress her cheek. He was leaning toward her, eyes hooded with unmistakable intent, when a horn blasted behind them.

“The light is green,” she said, suppressing a laugh.

“Yes. A green light. I believe I got that very impression.”

The car shot forward. Darcie's pulse lurched as if trying to catch up. The scarf was in no danger of blowing off, but she pulled it snugger around her head, just to have something to do with her hands.

“Let's talk about you.”

“All right. You know what I do for a living. You also know I have a brother who is to be married.”

“A younger brother. Pieter.”

“Very good. You pay close attention to details.”

“It's what I do.” She shrugged. “I check facts for a living, remember?”

“Or you did.”

The seed, so recently planted, seemed to be taking root. But she forced herself to focus on the present. “Tell me about Pieter. How old is he? What's he like? Are you close?”

A muscle ticked in Nick's jaw, although when he spoke, his tone bordered on blasé. “He is a year my junior. As boys, we did everything together. Now...he works with our father at his shop. They are electricians by trade.”

“The family business?”

Nick nodded. “My father had hoped I would follow in his footsteps as well.”

“But you had other interests.”

“Yes.”

One syllable said without regret but full of sadness. More family expectations, Darcie decided. Hoping to lighten his mood, she shifted the subject. “Why don't you tell me about Pieter's fiancée?”

That muscle ticked in Nick's jaw again. “Selene.”

The wind rushed past in the open car, but the tension grew thicker. “Um, that's a pretty name.”

He snorted. “We grew up together, the three of us.” Nick paused before adding, “Selene and I used to date.”

Darcie blinked, too surprised to apply tact when she said, “You dated the woman your brother is marrying?”

“It would be more accurate to say that my brother is marrying a woman I dated,” he replied tersely.

“Oh.” More like
uh-oh.
Darcie had stepped into something unpleasant, and she had no clue how to scrape it gracefully off her shoe.

“You are wondering if I am heartbroken.”

“Are you?” she asked bluntly.

“It was over a long time ago.”

Nick might not be heartbroken
—
and the jury was still out on that as far as she was concerned
—
but Darcie didn't think it was as over as he claimed it to be. She heard another emotion in his tone. Anger? Betrayal? If it truly was over, he would feel nothing. She wanted to ask why he and Selene had broken up, but she sensed that topic wasn't open for discussion.

She said quietly, “It has to be awkward.”

“It is.”

Did this mean Nick was on the rebound, too? She wasn't sure how she felt about that or even if she had the right to feel anything. They had been driving in silence for a couple of minutes, when something occurred to her.

“Um, speaking of awkward, will Selene and Pieter be at dinner tonight?”

As it was, Darcie had enough to worry about what with convincing his parents and grandmother that she and Nick were an item without adding bad blood and an old lovers' triangle to the mix. Thankfully, Nick shook his head.

“They have other plans. Some last-minute meeting with the caterer about changes to one of the side dishes. Apparently, a cousin of the bride has a severe peanut allergy.”

“Oh, thank God.” Darcie closed her eyes and grimaced. “Not about the allergy. Those can be deadly. Anaphylactic shock and all. But
—
”

“I know exactly what you mean.” His dry laughter served to put her at ease.

A few minutes later, they arrived at a two-story white stucco home surrounded by lush, terraced gardens.

“We're here.”

Showtime, Darcie thought, as she removed the scarf and checked her appearance in the rearview mirror.

“You look beautiful,” he assured her.

Even so, nerves fluttered in her belly. She offered up a prayer that in addition to passing parental inspection, she wouldn't humiliate herself by getting sick.

“This is my grandmother's house, but my mother and father live just there.”

He pointed to the home next door that was similar in size and appearance and whose yard was equally well-landscaped. Concentrating on the details helped quell her nerves. As limited as her knowledge of plants was, she recognized geraniums spilling from the pots near the front door, as well as near the iron railing that girded a second-story terrace. And even without the assistance of a breeze, she could smell the heady scent of roses.

“Wow. Your mother and grandmother must have green thumbs. Everything looks so, well,
green
. My mom is like that. And my sisters. They can grow anything, anywhere. As near as I can tell, my thumb is black.”

“Black?” He took her hands, studied the digits in question. “They look normal to me.”

“It's just a saying. It means I'm a plant killer, which is why the only plant I own is a ficus whose leaves are made of plastic. There's no chance of killing that sucker.”

“I see,” Nick said patiently.

No, he didn't, because there was no point to this conversation, except for stalling. Darcie was babbling like an idiot, but she couldn't seem to stop herself. More words tumbled out. “Although the ficus still looks pathetic thanks to Rufus.”

Nick's lips twitched. “The cat you referred to as the spawn of Satan?”

“That's the one. He used it as a scratching post.”

Nick got out and came around the car to open Darcie's door. “Come.” Suddenly he seemed so formidable, as though he were prepared for battle. The sudden change from playful to guarded did nothing to settle Darcie's nerves.

He led her to the door, entered without knocking. This might have been his grandmother's house, but he didn't stand on formality. She liked that. The foyer opened into a living room with a fireplace. It was a comfortable room, a place that invited one to sit and relax. Darcie wished she could, but she was wound up as tight as a spring. From the rear of the house, she could hear voices, although she couldn't make out anything that was being said since it was in Greek. She heard Nick's name mentioned and then she thought she heard her own. When she glanced at him, his expression was apologetic.

“They say they are eager to meet you.”

Darcie doubted his translation was complete or completely accurate.

He took her hand. “This way.”

The mingled scents of spices and roasting meat wafting from the kitchen should have had her mouth watering, but it was dry as sawdust. She stopped walking.

“I need another minute,” she whispered and sucked in a deep breath.

“You are nervous. I understand.”

Did he? It wasn't only her part in the deception that had her worried, but what his family would think of her. Her old insecurities bubbled up before she could stop them. What if they found her as lacking as Evelyn had?

“You will be fine.”

“Fine,” she repeated, feeling anything but.

“It is only one meal.”

Yes, but it felt like her last supper.

“Darcie.” Nick framed her face with his hands. His palms were warm, the pads of his thumbs slightly calloused as they brushed over her cheeks. “You...”

Whatever else he said, and she thought it might have been in Greek, was lost to the rushing in her ears. Besides, words, no matter what the language, were superfluous. He was going to kiss her again. That much came through loud and clear. And she wanted him to. So much so that she didn't bother to wait for him to lean in and claim her mouth. She clasped the back of his neck and closed the gap between them herself.

She'd always been a fan of fireworks, though it had been a very long time since she'd experienced any. This kind lit her up inside until she was sure her skin glowed from the heat. Someone moaned. She was pretty sure the sound came from her. Regardless, Nick took the opportunity to change the angle of their mouths. His hands no longer framed her face. His fingers splayed over the small of her back, exerting subtle pressure that brought her flush against his hard chest.

A woman's voice cut through the haze of hormones.

“This must be Darcie.”

They sprung apart. Fireworks fizzled until they were but pesky smoke. Way to make a first impression, Darcie thought, giving herself a mental slap. Nick, meanwhile, offered the sort of charmingly sheepish smile that probably had helped him out of plenty of scrapes as a boy.

“Mama. My apologies. I seem to have gotten carried away.”

“Yes. That much I could see for myself,” she replied dryly.

But she was smiling. And so was the older woman standing just behind her in the doorway.

In heavily accented English, Nick's
yiayia
said, “Manners, Nikolos, manners. Introduce us.”

He rubbed his hands together. “Of course. Darcie Hayes, this is my grandmother, Sophia Pappas, and my mother, Thea Costas.”

Hands were shaken, greetings exchanged. Darcie knew she was being sized up. Funny, but some of her earlier nervousness had evaporated. Nick's mother and grandmother were curious about her, that much was very clear. But she sensed no antipathy, no animosity. She felt welcome if not accepted. And that was before his grandmother slid one of her boney arms around Darcie's waist and propelled her toward the kitchen.

“Come. I will pour the wine. You will tell us about yourself. Start with your ancestors. Might there be a chance some of your people came from Greece?”

FIVE

Nick's father arrived
just before the meal was served. By then, Darcie's nerves had calmed substantially. It helped that while seated in the kitchen watching Thea and Sophia finish the preparations she'd polished off a glass of a lovely dry red wine.

She refused a refill when Nick would have poured her one. It wouldn't do to get snockered. But she told them, “This was very good.”

“It is bottled by Nick's uncle, my brother, and his sons,” Thea said proudly. “They have a small vineyard in Thrace.”

“Nick is the only one of his generation to leave Greece to work,” Sophia lamented. “We keep hoping he will return for good one day.”

“Yiayia,” he said.

“What? I only say what is true. That is what we all hope will happen. Is it not, Thea?”

His mother flushed and was saved from answering by Nick's father, who said as he entered the kitchen, “He is here now. Let us enjoy our time together.”

The older man wasn't as tall as Nick, but his shoulders were just as broad. Age had added more girth to his waist, deep lines to the corners of his eyes and gray hair to his temples. But he remained a handsome man. This is how Nick would look in thirty years' time, Darcie thought. Warmth spread through her. She chalked it up to the wine.

“This is my father, George Costas,” Nick said.

“Darcie Hayes.” When she would have shaken his hand, George kissed both of her cheeks.

“She is prettier than Danika.” He winked at Nick.

“Danika?” Darcie mouthed.

“I will explain later,” Nick mumbled.

“Stop flirting,
Baba
, and go wash up,” Thea said with an exaggerated shake of her head. “Dinner is ready.”

They ate
alfresco
, seated around a table under a pergola in Yiayia's backyard. Vine-covered trellises lined the pergola's sides, offering shade from the late day sun. The center of the table was heaped with enough food to feed twice as many people.

Darcie smoothed a napkin over her lap. “Everything looks wonderful, Mrs. Costas and Mrs. Pappas.”

“Call me Yiayia. Everyone does.”

“And you may call me Thea,” Nick's mother said, passing Darcie a platter of sliced lamb. “You are not a vegetarian, I hope. A lot of young people are nowadays.”

“No.” Even if Darcie had been, the delicious-smelling meat would have tempted her to take a bite.

“That is good,” Yiayia said. “Nick likes red meat.”

“True.” Thea nodded. “But he will fly home for dinner on a Palm Sunday if I promise to make
bakaliaros tiganitos
.”

At Darcie's perplexed expression, he explained, “It is a salt-cured cod that my mother then batters and deep fries. It is very tasty, but it is the dipping sauce she makes to go with it that has me booking my flight.”

“Here, we are so close to the ocean that the fish is fresh and plentiful,” Yiayia said.

“Manhattan is next to the Atlantic,” he pointed out patiently and Darcie got the feeling this was a long-standing argument.

“It is settled,” George offered. “Water and fish are everywhere.”

But Yiayia wasn't done. “Do they even know how to make
bakaliaros tiganitos
in America?”

“I will look on the menu at the next Greek restaurant I visit.”

Sophia shrugged. “It does not matter. They will not cook it as well as your mama does. I taught her, just as my mother taught me. Just as your mother will teach your future wife.” She glanced slyly at Darcie.

George apparently didn't get the memo about playing it coy. “Maybe you could teach Darcie, Thea.”

Everyone at the table turned and gaped at him. Nick was the first to recover. There was a gleam in his eye when he said, “I do like Mama's
bakaliaros tiganitos.
”

“Nick likes
all
of his mama's cooking,” George said with a hearty laugh. “He gets that from me.”

“If he is not careful, he will get this, too.” Thea patted her husband's stomach. More laughter followed, chasing away a bit of the strain.

“If you would like, I could share some of my recipes with you,” Thea said to Darcie, “including the one for
bakaliaros tiganitos.
It is not so hard to make, but you must soak the fish overnight or it will be too salty.”

“Thank you. I would like that.”

“Are you a good cook?” Sophia asked.

“Um, I...” Darcie had mastered the art of microwaving in college, and she knew how to whip up staples such as grilled cheese and spaghetti, as long as the sauce for the latter came from a jar. But her culinary skills didn't go much beyond that since, at Evelyn's insistence, Darcie and Tad had eaten most of their meals at his mother's. In Darcie's new home, wherever that might be, she was going to take the time to learn. “I plan to be.”

Yiayia's eyes narrowed. Clearly, that answer hadn't won Darcie any points.

“Do you cook for Nick?”

Before she could formulate a response, he explained, “We eat out whenever Darcie comes to town.”

“And where does she sleep when she comes to town?” Yiayia asked pointedly.

Darcie felt her face flame, but Nick took the question in stride. “She sleeps in a bed,” he replied without specifying whose. Since his grin left little doubt, she kicked him under the table.

Earlier, in the kitchen, they had discussed how Darcie and Nick met. Now, the topic turned to what she did for a living, what her family was like and the names of her siblings, brothers-in-law, nephews and nieces. Yiayia, of course, snuck in a question about how many children Darcie wanted. By the time coffee and dessert were served, Yiayia had determined two things. One, Darcie was too thin and, two, she must have some Greek in her, if only because she liked the strong coffee.

“I like the cake, too,” Darcie noted after taking a bite. It was topped with powdered sugar and lightly toasted almonds. “It's delicious. What's it called?”

“Revani,”
Yiayia said.

“Revani,”
Darcie repeated. Or so she thought. But Yiayia was shaking her head.

“No, no, no. Re-vah-
nee.
”

“Emphasis on the last syllable,” Nick supplied.

Darcie tried the word again, this time earning his grandmother's nod of approval.

“I make this special for Nick. I will be sure to give you the recipe so you can make it, too.”

Darcie sent him a smile and asked, “Is this another favorite of yours?”

But it wasn't Nick who answered.

“My brother is fond of all sweet things.”

Pieter stood just outside the door that led from the house. At least, Darcie assumed the man was Pieter. The family resemblance was there in the shape of his eyes and the athletic build. And if he was Pieter, that would make the woman standing beside him Selene.

OMG!

Darcie set down her fork and blotted her mouth on the napkin. Then she sat up straighter in her chair and sucked in her stomach. Selene was slender and petite. Darcie felt like an Amazon in comparison. And the other woman was drop-dead gorgeous with high cheekbones, delicately arched brows and sleek black hair. In short, she was Aphrodite incarnate. A glance at Nick confirmed what Darcie already knew: if he was over what had happened, he was doing a poor job showing it. His eyes had turned as hard as stone.

“Pieter! Selene!” Thea smiled nervously. “We did not think you would be here.”

“We finished our appointment with the caterer early and thought we would stop by for cake.”

“How did you know about the cake?” Nick asked.

“Yiayia called earlier and mentioned it.”

All eyes cut to Yiayia.

“I am an old woman,” she muttered with the wave of an arthritic hand. “I cannot remember what I say, who I say it to.”

Half of Pieter's mouth rose in a resigned smile. “The only reason you are here is because you did not think that we would be. I guess I was foolish to hope.”

Nick said nothing, but that muscle started to tick in his jaw again.

“It does not matter. I am glad to see you, Nick. We both are.” Pieter curved his arm around Selene's shoulders and she offered a tentative smile.

The tension built along with the silence. Darcie was the one who breached it.

“Pieter and Selene. Nick has told me so much about you both. It's so nice to finally meet you.”

“And you are?” Pieter asked.

“Darcie Hayes. Nick's...Nick's girlfriend.”

She'd already stepped in this mess with one foot. Why not both?

* * *

“You played your part well this evening,” Nick told Darcie once the two of them were in the Shelby and heading back to her hotel.

At times he had forgotten their bargain and actually enjoyed himself. That was until Pieter and Selene's arrival. Seeing them together never put Nick in a good mood. This evening it had been tolerable. He had Darcie to thank for that.

“You weren't half-bad yourself,” she told him. “If your car auction business doesn't pan out you might consider a career on Broadway.”

She smiled, but her tone didn't match the lighthearted comment.

“Is something wrong, Darcie?”

She fussed with the scarf's knot under her chin. “Your family is really nice, Nick. I enjoyed meeting them all.”

“And they enjoyed meeting you,” he replied warily.

“I don't like lying to them, Nick. Even if most of our lies were ones of omission.”

He nodded. “Most of them.”

The one that stood out had come from Darcie at the end of dinner:
I'm Nick's girlfriend.

Upon hearing that, Pieter's expression had reflected not only surprise, but also happiness and hope. More than anything else from the evening, it was the hope that bothered Nick's conscience.

“Sophia is something else.” Darcie chuckled. “But she only has your best interests at heart. All of them do.”

Nick saw his brother's hopeful expression again only to banish it. “If that is so, they should be satisfied now. You made quite an impression on them.”

“I suppose.” She cleared her throat. Her tone was tentative when she said, “Your brother seems nice. Selene, too.”

Nick made a noncommittal sound and concentrated on driving, hoping Darcie would drop the subject.

She didn't.

“They both seemed genuinely happy for you...us...well, you know what I mean.”

“Guilty consciences looking for absolution,” he muttered. But was that the cause? He decided to change the subject. “Are you really going to try the recipes my mother and grandmother gave you? Or did you just say that to humor them?”

“Oh, no. I meant it. I'm not sure where I am going to get salt-cured cod, but everything else looks pretty manageable.”

“They love to fiddle in the kitchen. I think they should have their own television program.”

“Cooking with Thea and Sophia,”
Darcie offered. They both laughed. “I would watch it. I really do want to learn. I know the basics, but for the past six years, we pretty much ate all of our dinners at Evelyn's house.”

“Evelyn?”

“Tad's mother,” Darcie said quietly.

Nick glanced sideways. Darcie was staring at her hands, which were now folded in her lap. “What is a Tad? Or should I ask who?”

She ran a tongue over her teeth. “He's my former fiancé.”

Nick nearly blew through a red light. He brought the Shelby to a stop to the protest of skidding tires. Giving Darcie his full attention now, he asked, “How recently former?”

She wrinkled her nose. “Pretty recent. We were supposed to get married last Saturday, but I called it off the week before.”

The breath left Nick's lungs in a gust as he added two and two together and came up with four. “He is the reason you are now looking for a new place to live.”

“Yes. Tad got the cat and the condo in our breakup. I got...Greece.”

Nick's eyebrows shot up in surprise. “So this trip was to be your...”

“Honeymoon,” she finished for him. Her smile was tight, her laughter apologetic as he absorbed a second bombshell that he hadn't seen coming.

He should say something, he thought, although “sorry” didn't feel right, even if what she had just shared must have been painful. Endings always were. Briefly, he considered telling her about Selene and Pieter. She probably would welcome a little quid pro quo under the circumstances. But the words stuck in his throat. They drove the rest of the way in silence.

“Stop here,” she said when they reached her hotel. “There's no need to park and walk me inside.”

He wanted to disagree. But the evening was over and it was time to say good-night. It was just as well. His emotions were all over the place. He didn't care for the confusion. One thing he knew for sure, however, was that his interest in Darcie had not diminished one iota.

“What time shall we meet tomorrow?” At her puzzled expression he reminded her, “I said I would act as your tour guide. I intend to live up to my end of the bargain.”

“Oh. I'll leave the time up to you.”

“I am an early riser, but how about nine o'clock?”

“All right. We can meet in the lobby again, if that works for you.”

He nodded. “Where would you like to go?”

“The Parthenon.”

Nick smiled. “Then the Parthenon it is.” When she reached for the door handle, he said, “Aren't you forgetting something?”

She glanced around, her expression uncertain. “What?”

“A kiss good-night.” Unable to resist, he leaned over the gearshift and captured her mouth. As the kiss deepened, he regretted the car's bucket seats. “Sleep well, Darcie,” Nick said, pulling back.

“Right. As if...” she muttered, getting out.

* * *

The phone in Darcie's hotel room trilled at an ungodly hour. She pushed the pillow off her face and, eyes still closed, felt around on the nightstand until she found the receiver.