My Greek SEAL (7 page)

“Quoting those women’s magazines again?” Eros asks.

I laugh. “Maybe, but no one really wants to hear about all the crap I’m dealing with.”

“Dear, I really do,” says Maryann. “You’ve got me right curious now.”

The waiter walks by with a tray and places our drinks on the table. I pick up the bottle of Coke and pour it into the ice-filled glass filled. “To be honest, I really don’t want to dwell on it. It’s over and done with and what I want to do now is find a way to go on.”

“That could be good. And it could be bad,” said Eros.

“Why could it be bad?”

“Because you’ll still be angry. It’s hard to move on when you’re carrying all that weight on your shoulders.”

I shrug.

“Why not tell us a story or two about your boss from hell,” he says with a smile.

His eyes twinkle with flirtatious mischief and at the same time radiate warmth. I’m afraid to trust what I see. It could be cleansing to spew out my frustration about the years I put up with Steve’s ugly moods, how I worked overtime way too often and got little in return to show for it. It would feel like getting an elephant off of my chest. “You really want to hear about my former boss?”

“Yes, of course,” says Eros. “It will help me get to know you better. I can see by that little smile that you would love to tell us every little ugly detail about the man.”

Now everyone, even Scott is watching at me curiously, waiting for me to speak. I’ve become the pre-lunch entertainment. I pause for a moment, debating about what to say if anything.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Why not tell them a thing or two. They’re not weighed down by the situation like I am. Hearing about Steve and his weirdness might even make them laugh. “He had a really nasty halitosis. Sitting next to him on the plane for long flights was hell. I used to run to the lavatory to put aromatherapy oil in my nostrils to block out the smell.”

Laughter erupts around the table.

“You never told the bloke he had bad breath?” Randy asks.

“No, but I offered him chewing gum and breath mints a couple of times.”

That incites another round of laughter.

“Tell us more about this wanker,” urges Maryann.

“He was a really stingy tipper. He would ask a porter to haul three bags and give him a dollar. I always had cash ready slip to them when Steve wasn’t looking. It made me so furious. The company is very successful. It wasn’t like we didn’t make enough money to be generous.”

“What a bloody bastard,” said Maryann. “Why didn’t you look for work elsewhere?”

I pause before answering. This question has run through my mind hundreds of time since everything fell apart. I’m almost ashamed to talk about it. How could I have been so blind to what was happening? Why didn’t I come up with a strategy to defend myself from what he and Nora were planning? I knew for a long time they were up to something. “That’s a really good question. I should have. My gut had told me to run from that job a thousand times.” I flash back to my meditations during my recent swim. I’d wanted to quit even before Nora started up with her nonsense because of the unethical ways Steve ran the business. Often Steve wouldn’t pay the freelance authors on time and in some cases, he never paid them at all. After many of the best writers quit, he “hired” some very skilled writers who would write for free. Some were Nora’s retired friends. He said it would give them exposure, help them to land more paid writing work later. What a bunch of crap.

“Were you in sales?”

“Yes. I sold advertising space for a national magazine.”

“Sales is bloody hard work and not many do it well. Almost every successful company requires a strong sales staff. You should be able to find work right quick,” says Randy.

“Yes, but...”

“You want to do something different with your life now,” says Eros.

Obviously, Eros can read me like a book. Even thinking about getting another sales job made every muscle in neck and shoulders tighten. “I think so. I’m good at sales, but something about the work just doesn’t fit for me anymore. I can’t see myself selling ads the rest of my life.”

“What do you want to do?” Eros gazes at me, not blinking. He appears to be genuinely interested in my answer.

“When I was traveling all over the country for work, I spent so many nights sprawled out on hotel beds, writing stories. Sometimes I’d write features that could fit for our magazine just for fun. I never showed them to anyone or anything. I just wrote them because I felt like it. I even wrote a short novel.”

“Did you try to publish that?”

“No of course not. I don’t know anything about writing or publishing. I’ve fantasized about quitting my job and becoming a writer, but never seriously considered it.”

“And then look what happened,” says Eros. “Maybe what happened to you was a sign.”

I can’t help smiling. Eros even thinks on the same wavelength as me sometimes. “Yes,” I say in agreement. “I think you’re right.” I clear my throat and see the waiter approaching with a large tray. “Oh, look, our food has arrived.”

“It smells so good,” Maryann says.

I try not to grimace when the waiter sets my plate in front of me. Sea bream complete with head, tail and scales. The tiny bit of appetite I had vanishes. Once everyone’s food is served, I poke my fork into the fish, trying to peel away the silver scales to search for some edible pink flesh.

Silence reigns at the table. Everyone except me is devouring their meals, obviously famished after the morning swim.

Eros pokes a piece of fried cheese with his fork, reaches across the table and places it on the edge of my plate. “Try this. I’m sure you’ll like it.”

“Thanks.” I cut the piece of cheese in half with my fork and then eat one of the halves. The flavor of cheese and salt bursts in my mouth, rekindling my appetite. I finish the other half in a matter of seconds. “Mmm. That’s amazing.”

“I can order some for you if you like.” Eros turns toward the waiter and waves his hand.

“Can I get you something else, Miss?” the waiter asks.

“Yes, please. I’d like an order of that fried cheese.”

“Sure. I’ll bring some right out,” he says before pivoting away.

I turn back to my fish, deciding to give it a try. Despite its unappetizing appearance, the fish is flavorfully seasoned and nearly melts in my mouth. It’s been cooked just right. Cutting away the skin and sharp bones, I pluck chunks of pale pink flesh free and ferry them to my mouth.

One bite turns to two and by the time the waiter returns with my fried cheese, there’s little left of my fish except the head, the tail and some folds of silver, scaly skin.

He takes my empty plate and replaces it with the cheese I ordered. “Here you go, Miss. Please enjoy.”

I greet him with a smile. “I’m sure I will. I’ve already sampled some.” I gaze down at my plate and release a satisfied sigh. Even after eating so much fish, I salivate at the sight of the cheese. Whether talking helped my overall outlook remains to be seen, but it sure did bring back my appetite.

The waiter asks if we need anything else. After receiving only shakes of the head and grunts in response, he smiles and walks away.

Between bites, I turn to Maryann and ask what kind of work she does.

“I’m a romance novelist,” she says. She nods her head toward the end of the table and covers her mouth to mask the food she’s chewing. “Tara told me earlier she’s a writer, too.”

“Really? I’ve never even met an author before and now I know two.” Talk about a sign. Maybe Eros was right. This trip to Greece is starting to seem more like destiny than a sign that I’ve lost my mind. I’ve spent a lot of time writing during my years on the road, but have no idea how to make sure it’s good enough or how to sell something to an agent or a publisher. I wonder if they would be offended if I asked them what to do. “Have you always been an author?”

“No. I worked at a dental office for years. Mostly doing appointments and paperwork. On the weekends I went to writing workshops and started doing a bit of writing. I met an editor from Harlequin a few years ago and she quite liked my work. Since then, I’ve published two or three books a year.”

“Wow. Good for you.” I want to ask more questions, but feel like it would be better to do it a little at a time. There must be so many people who want to be writers, who ask her a million questions.

“You said you had written a bit,” says Maryann. “What kind of articles do you write?”

“I love writing adventure travel articles. Places you can go to scuba dive, mountain climb or do zip lining. Stuff like that. The novel I wrote is a mystery.”

“Have you brought along any writing samples I could take a look at?” Maryann asks.

“Sure. They’re on my computer, though.”

“Let’s talk one evening this week after our afternoon swim. I’ll take a look, let you know what I think. If your work seems right good, I’ll put you in touch with some editors.”

“Oh, you don’t need to do that. This is your vacation.”

“Ah, but so many people helped me get started as a writer when I was first interested. Now I get a turn to help.”

“That’s really nice of you.”

Maryann gives me a sympathetic smile and pauses for a moment before speaking. “Before you gush all over with thank yous, you better wait for me to take a read. It wouldn’t be right if I weren’t honest with you, you know.”

My excitement ebbs away. I’d almost forgotten the possibility that the writing I thought was good might be the worst imaginable. “I understand.”

“Can I ask you something?”

I try to mask my disappointment. “Sure, why not?”

“How would you describe this morning’s swim?”

I pause and think and then as if by magic I see the words inside my mind. “When I was swimming, at first I felt alone in that vast sea of deep blue water. And then I started smelling the salt and feeling the breeze on my arms each time I reached out to take another stroke. The seawater seemed to embrace me, massaging all my muscles with its watery warmth and then as my stroke smoothed out and became more meditation than exercise, I felt as though I was the sea.” Holy crap. Did I just say that out loud?

Maryann claps her hands together and gives me an endearing smile. “Very good. I don’t need to see your sample to know you are a writer. You don’t just walk through life. You see things, feel them, and absorb them into your being. You can make it. With some practice and a bit of work that is.”

“I don’t know. But that’s really nice of you to say. Sometimes when things are happening, words pop into my mind. Ones I would use to describe the experience. It’s a bit like I’m writing a journal, except I’m not writing at all. It’s all happening inside my head.”

“I understand, dear. That’s why I carry a digital recorder in my pocket. I never know when a lovely tidbit might pop into my mind. Sometimes it’s a bit too rare. Sometimes, it’s quite often.”

“I might try that. It’s a great idea. Thank you so much, Maryann.” I clear my throat. “But I have been talking way too much.” I direct my gaze toward Eros. “What about you? What line of work are you in?”

Eros’ fork pauses on the way to his mouth and his eyes widen. “I’m with the Underwater Demolition Command with the Hellenic Navy.”

“Oh, wow.” It sounds impressive, but I’m not quite sure what that means. “So you’re in the military then.”

“It’s our special operations. I guess you could say I’m a Greek Navy SEAL.” The proud expression on his face slowly melts away during a long pause. “Or I was until I developed a lung infection. After I was honorably discharged, I founded a triathlon training business. That is the reason I am here this week for the swimming. This afternoon, Dmitri will videotape everyone’s swimming and later we will gather to watch them and I will give some comments to help improve the strokes.”

I’m still trying to wrap my brain around what he said. The last thing I expected was for him to say he’d been in the military. He struck me as much more of the creative type with all his talk about destiny and things happening for a reason. What kind of soldier talks like that? “That’s great that you have the new business. But back to the Navy SEAL thing... I didn’t even know Greece had Navy SEALs.”

One of the corners of his sexy mouth tips upward. “And why would you think that? There’s a great deal of water around here.”

“I know. But no one’s going to attack Greece.”

“Not now, but there is always that possibility. I suppose you think our tiny, nearly bankrupt country is too insignificant to be worthy of protection,” he says sarcastically.

Great. Here I go putting my foot in my mouth again. “I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“I’d say you’re being overly sensitive, which I understand since your country is in so much trouble right now. But I came to Greece didn’t I? Even though the news people make it sound like we’ll be robbed and have no way to get around. My friends thought I was crazy not to cancel. But I stood up for Greece. I said it was all a bunch of media hype.”

Eros shakes his head and frowns. “I hope if you become a writer you don’t work for the news networks.”

I laugh. “Don’t worry. I have zero interest in doing anything like that.”

“That’s odd Americans would believe such rubbish,” says Maryann. “Everyone in the UK wants to holiday in Greece because now it’s quite a bargain at the moment. And we don’t plan to holiday in America again unless the dodgy ones lose their guns.”

“I understand. Even though I live there, I get kind of freaked out sometimes. As far as other countries go, though, I don’t listen much to what’s on TV,” I say. “I read the State Department warnings that have hard facts and then decide for myself if I want to go someplace.”

Eros studies me. “But you were probably worried your trip would be a disaster.”

“Maybe a little. But I talked to people who had visited in recent weeks and they all raved about how great it was here. So I figured all that crap on the news was just that. Crap. And now I’m here.”

Eros blinks once and then again. His long eyelashes make his dark expressive eyes look even larger. He’s not only hot. He’s gorgeous. He looks almost too gorgeous to be real. This man’s a work of art. His lips curve up into a smile that strikes me as admiring instead of critical. “That is very good. You seem like the kind of person who gives unknown people and countries a chance. This world needs to have more like you.”