Resisting Mr. Kane (London Mister #2)(18)

“Are you here in Greece to buy some?” I ask.

He shifts in his seat. “No. Although some of the architecture is truly stunning.”

I wait for him to elaborate, but he doesn’t. It’s like drawing blood from a stone. “Are you always such a closed book?”

He blows out a strained breath, then his large hand encloses mine. “I’m sorry, I know I’m being evasive. There are parts of my life that are…complicated right now. I didn’t mean to meet someone on this trip. So, I haven’t thought this through at all. I wasn’t prepared to answer questions.”

Unease rolls around my stomach. Is he married?

He squeezes my hands tighter when he sees my face fall.

“But I’d like to see you back in the UK when you get home. Then we can get to know each other better.”

My feet do a jig under the table.

“I understand if you don’t want to see me after this,” he adds. “I’m older than you and, believe me, pursuing a hot grad makes me feel like a cliché, but…let’s just say I’m not sure I’d be able to give you up that easily.”

“I don’t get it.” I shake my head. “Are you saying you want to…date me?”

He frowns. “Yes, why not?

I shake my head. “You’re clearly a successful well-established guy. I just thought you would be more interested in someone that’s got their shit together.”

His gaze roams my face. “You’re more impressive than you give yourself credit for. And it’s been a long time since I met someone who could make me laugh as much as you.”

My face heats. “Says the guy who owns a yacht to the girl with cockroach squatters.”

“Cockroaches and an uncanny ability to deflect every compliment.” He strokes my hair. “You’re my little stress ball.”

I scrunch up my face. “I remind you of a squidgy ball? That doesn’t sound very sexy.”

“It’s very sexy. And exactly what I need right now.” He looks at me impatiently. “Now will you give me your number?”

An excited squawk erupts from my throat. “I only have a Greek number right now,” I explain, pushing my phone across the table. “I lost my UK phone two days before I arrived in Greece.”

What’s the opposite of a smartphone? That’s what my phone is. He takes out his latest edition phone and copies my number from the dumb phone.

“You know, I have contacts that are senior partners at a few law firms in London. Dawson Law? I could line you up an interview for when you get home.”

My eyes double in size. “Seriously? Oh my God, that would be amazing.” Dawson Law is one of the top law firms in the UK. Not the top. That’s Madison Legal, where I eventually want to end up. But I’d gladly take an in at Dawson Law. This guy is the gift that keeps on giving…Michelin star food, my best orgasm, now this?

We laugh and talk for hours through the 11-course tasting menu I order for us. Yes, I wanted this meal to last and I’m making up for three weeks of gyros.

The conversation is just so easy. At one point, I laugh so hard at something he says, I snort wine out of my nose. I thought he’d be the type of guy to only go after sexy women at the top of their career, who have it together, live by themselves and know how many degrees to tilt their wine glass. Not me. Perhaps that’s why I introduced myself using my full name and not just Elly.

Slowly I gnaw away at him, picking up snippets of his life. The picture is forming, but there are still large parts of the puzzle I can’t piece together. Whatever’s the cause of his anguish these past few days, he’s not giving anything away.

Good things come to those who wait.

Me? I’m an open book. His eyes brim with interest as I chat about my degree, life as a student, my hopes and fears, our island-hopping plans.

A few hours later, it’s a hat-trick. Three glorious nights of award-winning sex followed by the sweetest pillow talk ever. More than I’ve had in my lifetime. Thank you, Greek gods.

***

I happily plunge the brush down the toilet then flush. Not even the rich ballerina and her passive aggressive demands can wipe the smile from my face today.

He wants to see me again.

Humming to myself, I move to the bath and pull her hair out of the drain.

After Dimitris pays us today, we can politely tell him to stick his placard and his toilet brush up his ass. We can save enough money working at the bar to take the few weeks off we wanted at the end of the trip to go island-hopping.

“Bathrooms done!” I call out merrily.

“I’ll be upstairs on deck.” She smiles at me and scoops up a pair of sunglasses from the table and puts them on her head. In shorts and a bikini, she shows off a figure that can't be ignored. I make a mental note to start doing squats every day.

I get to work in the kitchen. Crumbs paint the breakfast bar surface like she deliberately threw food around to give me work. Whatever, it’s fine. I run the hot water tap to fill the sink. Behind me, two animated voices, hers and a man’s, get louder as they descend the stairs to the lower deck.

When I turn to see who is with her, my heart vacates its cavity.

It’s not the guy I saw onboard the other day.

Tristan.

My Tristan.

His jaw drops when he recognises me, just as mine does. We stand frozen, staring at each other.