Desperately Seeking Summer Page 25

  ‘No,’ Abby said, shaking her head. ‘It means I’m scared of what comes next because I don’t know what comes next, and I’ve always, always, known what comes next.’

  He squeezed her hands again. ‘I know what comes next.’ He injected every confidence into his tone.

  ‘Another Old Fashioned?’ She nodded to the glass.

  ‘Perhaps,’ he replied. ‘But not here.’ He checked his watch. ‘We have a few hours until the sun goes down. Let’s go to Logas Beach.’

  ‘I can’t,’ Abby answered straightaway. ‘I have to … my mum is appraising Meredith’s house and Melody is … she’s showing Meredith the two-bedroomed property and I have to—’

  ‘Every moment you have been in San Stefanos you have been working,’ Theo reminded her. ‘Painting, pushing cars, searching for signs, walking with cows …’

  ‘I stopped to do some dancing to happy music,’ she reminded him. ‘And I’ve eaten quite a lot of pastry.’

  Theo put her hands to his lips as he leaned across the table, kissing the skin. ‘Go and get your bikini and meet me here in twenty minutes.’

  ‘Theo, as lovely as it sounds—’

  ‘You are not anchored to anything, remember?’ he said, getting to his feet. ‘Let me show you that sometimes this can be a good thing.’

  Fifty

  Logas Beach, Peroulades

  Theo could have chosen the motorbike or the Porsche but neither had felt right and he knew that the kind of person that Abby was meant she would not have been impressed by either. Instead, he had left a note for Spyridoula and taken her seen-better-days but still functional Namco Pony. He had always thought the car was both ugly and beautiful, a cross between a small flat-bed truck and a Jeep, but some of the best memories of his childhood were wrapped up in its no-nonsense rustic interior, and probably some of the cake crumbs were still there too. He hadn’t remembered it rattling quite so much the last time he had driven it, but then that was some years ago.

  ‘Do you have a car, Abby?’ Theo called over the roar of the engine and the hot air rushing through the windows as they wound up the mountain roads.

  ‘No,’ she answered. ‘I live a short walk from where I work. It seemed silly to have one parked up most days.’ She stopped talking for a moment. ‘But, I suppose that’s going to change, seeing as I don’t work there any more. How about you?’

  Was she asking about his job? Straightaway he felt the urge to move his leg – a little awkward when you were in charge of a car – but he controlled it. He knew, if he was going to begin something with Abby, whatever guise the something took, he would have to open up. He didn’t feel wholly comfortable that he was ready but …

  ‘I expect you have more than one car, being rich and everything,’ Abby continued, her tone teasing.

  He couldn’t stop the slight surge of relief at her addition to her question.

  ‘Three of them,’ he answered honestly. ‘In Halkidiki.’

  She nodded. ‘I can imagine.’

  ‘No,’ he said quickly. ‘They are my father’s cars and I always have to stop for petrol because they drink so much. You are too worried to eat gyros inside them because of the light-coloured seats. Many, many problems.’

  She laughed then and it made him feel good. She seemed lighter, her worries a few miles away, almost relaxed as they bumped along. He completed the final turn and pulled the car into the car park where there were many vehicles already. In his eyes, all of Corfu was spectacular, but this spot was well known for its magnificent scenery and sunset views.

  ‘Oh, my goodness,’ Abby exclaimed, her hands clamouring for the handle of the door.

  Theo watched her looking, out of the windscreen, out of the passenger door, seeking as much scenery as her eyes could grasp. She opened the door and stepped out onto the sandy ground, shielding her eyes from the intense sun.

  Abby held her breath as she took in the view ahead of her. Despite having been on the island numerous times she had never been here and she had never seen anything quite like this. Travelling upwards and around in the car should have prepared her for this cliff-top vantage point, but somehow it hadn’t. None of the fields, the blossoming brush or the houses of cream, terracotta and stone had hinted at the surprise of what lay here.

  Stretched out in front of her, as far as the eye could see, was a rich blanket of sea, the purest of blues. It rippled with the light breeze, the sun changing the shade from aqua to peacock and back again. There was nothing spoiling the ocean, no boats, no swimmers to be seen, nothing but the vastness and power of the water surrounded by almost white sandstone cliffs.

  ‘It is amazing, right?’

  Theo’s voice was close, so close that if she decided to lean back a little his body would be right there. That thought gave her a thrill but, instead of leaning back, she turned and faced him. ‘It’s breath-taking. Just the most … beautiful view I’ve ever seen.’

  ‘Come,’ he said, holding out his hand. ‘There is a path then there are steps down to the beach.’

  She took his hand and let him lead the way.

  ‘So, is this where you take all your women?’ Abby asked, when they carefully began to navigate the steep stone steps down to the shore.

  ‘All the gold-diggers?’ Theo queried.

  ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean …’ She didn’t know what she had meant. She was finding it hard to fully embrace how much she enjoyed his company while she was busy being axis-less. Perhaps she had said it to remind herself she was here temporarily.

  ‘I have not been here for many years,’ he answered. ‘Since I was a teenager, maybe. With Leon and his family.’

  ‘You didn’t come here with your mum?’ she asked softly.

  ‘I do not know,’ he breathed hard. ‘Maybe.’ He smiled then. ‘Going down these steps would not have been enough for her, I know that.’ He pointed to the craggy rocks either side of them. ‘She would have wanted to hang from the cliff by a rope or come down on a parachute.’

  ‘She sounds like such an adventurous woman,’ Abby stated. ‘I haven’t done anything like that.’ She swallowed as the fact of her words settled awkwardly on her conscience. She hadn’t done much of anything. Because everything different or new she had suggested to Darrell, even if it was only the minutest bit out of his comfort zone, led to moaning or, sometimes, laughter. Had she really let him govern her choices so hard? She could feel her entire soul getting mad with itself.

  ‘You speak like your life is over already,’ he said. ‘How old are you, Abby?’

  She smiled, taking another precarious step, the breeze blowing her hair around her face. ‘It’s not the done thing to ask a lady her age.’

  ‘The done thing?’ Theo asked, sounding bemused.

  ‘I’m twenty-four,’ she answered. ‘The slightly older Dolan sister with the lot less blonde hair.’

  ‘You want to have blonde hair?’ Theo asked.

  She thought about it for a moment then smiled. ‘Actually, no. It suits Melody. I’m not sure it would suit me.’

  ‘I think your hair is beautiful,’ Theo told her. ‘Just how it is.’

  His compliment distracted her and she almost slipped, her sandal grazing the sand-coloured steps, body unbalanced. He reached out, catching her, holding on to her, his arms strong and stabling.

  ‘You are OK,’ he breathed. It wasn’t a question, more of a statement, telling her she was safe. Locked in his embrace, she looked up at his handsome face, those black olive-coloured eyes under soft lashes gazing back at her, protective as well as sexy …

  ‘I don’t know the rules, Theo.’ Abby allowed herself to stay in his arms, thoroughly enjoying every second of being held.

  ‘The rules?’ he queried.

  ‘I’ve had one relationship. One full-on relationship I thought was going to be the relationship of my whole life. I haven’t done dating or …’ She didn’t really know what to say next. Where was all this leading? ‘Or, being held by a gorgeous, lovely, slightly mysterio
us man.’

  ‘Mysterious,’ Theo said, a smile on those luscious lips that thrilled her to the bone.

  ‘I want to know more about you, Theo but I’m scared to know more about you.’

  ‘Scared?’ She saw his expression change just a little, like the sun altering the colour of the water below them. ‘Because I told you I was a gardener?’

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘Because I can’t get attached to you.’

  He brought her body towards his, making their forms connect while still holding her a little suspended in his arms. ‘I can’t wait to get attached to you.’

  Abby shivered. It was a deliberately cheesy double entendre yet completely erotic – the perfect mix – and it had elicited the strongest of reactions within her.

  ‘I don’t live here,’ she said simply.

  ‘I do not live here also,’ he whispered.

  ‘Then we shouldn’t, should we?’ Was she asking herself or asking him? And what was she asking him? She was already almost into something. Except nothing was completely clear when you were being held halfway down a cliff face, the most beautiful seascape laid out before you, the gloriously hot Corfu sun sizzling your skin, staring up into the delectable eyes of a Greek god.

  ‘Life is short, Abby,’ Theo whispered on the wind. ‘We both know this. I am starting to understand that hiding from the things that scare us the most is not the answer.’

  ‘What is the answer?’ she asked, a little breathless with anticipation.

  ‘I do not know,’ he replied, his lips now just millimetres from hers. ‘But I want to not be too scared to find out.’

  His mouth seized hers then and she yielded to their lips coming together as completely as she ever had, winding her body into his, her arms around his neck, fingers slipping into the tight knot of hair at the back of his head. It was a mind-spinning kiss, filled with desire, their mouths keen to taste, to explore, to love freely without the need for promises. It was raw, it was beautiful, it was a list-free, in-the-moment moment.

  He dropped a gentle touch to her lips and she palmed the slight roughness of his jaw, smiling, giddy, and feeling like an Abby Dolan she never knew existed. She liked this Abby. Apparently, this Abby gave good tongue over a Greek beach …

  ‘I love to see you smile,’ Theo said as she finally stood, carefully making sure her sandals hit the flat of the step.

  ‘Don’t think I’ve forgotten,’ Abby said, slipping her hand back into his.

  ‘Forgotten?’ he queried.

  ‘You distracted me with your lips.’

  ‘I am hoping this was not a one-time event.’ He moved to kiss her again, but she stopped him, laughing, squirming away from his advances and dropping her feet down another step.

  ‘How old are you, Theo?’ she called.

  He waved a hand. ‘Age, it is just a number.’

  ‘Now I’m worried.’

  ‘Why do you worry?’ he asked, joining her on the next step down. ‘You think I am too old for you?’ He winked. ‘Or too young?’

  ‘It doesn’t matter,’ she spoke finally. If he said he was forty – although she didn’t think he was for a moment – what would it matter? If he said he was eighteen she might feel a little Demi Moore but … actually, she really did want him to be older than eighteen.

  He smiled. ‘I am twenty-six.’

  A breath of relief left her although she didn’t really know why. Ashton Kutcher had come to no real harm …

  ‘Young,’ he continued. ‘Strong.’ He flexed his muscles. ‘Experienced …’

  ‘I’m not sure I want to know about that.’ She raised an eyebrow. He’d probably had scores of women and she had just told him she was almost as green as Jane the Virgin.

  ‘I was going to say experienced in Greek dancing.’

  ‘Oh.’ Now she felt a little stupid.

  ‘Abby,’ he said, taking her face in his hands. ‘You have had this relationship, one for a long time.’ He looked at her, deeply, his expression suddenly serious. ‘I have never had this … with anyone.’

  He looked as if he had exposed his deepest, darkest secret. As if what he had told her was wrong in so many ways. It only made her want to know what made him tick even more. She smiled. ‘We are total opposites. How does that work?’

  He smiled back. ‘I think a little like yin and yang … or Zeus and his wife, Hera.’

  ‘I don’t know much about Greek mythology,’ Abby admitted.

  Theo waved a hand. ‘At the end of every conflict they all sat down together and ate souvlaki.’ He squeezed her hand. ‘Are you hungry, my opposite?’

  The odd endearment warmed her, as did the thought of succulent chicken on a skewer with fat chunks of ripe, juicy peppers, and red onion, drizzled with a little lemon.

  ‘There’s somewhere down there on the beach?’ She queried, gazing over at the very slim stretch of golden sand.

  ‘No,’ he answered. ‘But when we have walked down all the steps, along the beach and back up again, there is a great restaurant overlooking the view.’

  She playfully thumped his shoulder, sending him down onto the next step. ‘That might call for pastry as well as souvlaki.’

  Fifty-one

  7th Heaven Bar, Peroulades

  Abby took a sip of the divine cocktail that had been presented to her by the barman. It was called a Paloma, and featured tequila and grapefruit juice with a large wedge of fresh pink grapefruit hanging on the side of the glass. It looked almost too pretty to drink but, having walked up and down a cliff, chased Theo up the sand until her lungs were begging for mercy, she was both thirsty and extremely hungry for the kolokithopita and souvlaki they had ordered.

  ‘Good?’ Theo asked her.

  ‘It’s very good,’ Abby breathed. ‘This whole place is almost unbelievable. The views are just breath-taking. I can’t believe I didn’t even know it was here.’

  ‘You have been to Corfu many times?’ Theo inquired, sipping at his bottle of beer.

  ‘My mum and dad brought us here for the first time when I was six. We stayed in at Agios Georgios in the south of the island. I don’t remember much about it. I was into ice cream and building sandcastles at that age. Then we came again when my dad was recovering from his operation. That was the first time I came to San Stefanos.’ She smiled. ‘Then I’ve been back a few times to visit my mum and Melody. But not as often as I should have.’

  ‘The villa,’ Theo began. ‘The Pappas villa, it is where we would spend our family holidays.’

  ‘It’s so beautiful. I thought that the moment I stood on the terrace.’

  ‘And was greeted by the impressive Greek view,’ Theo teased.

  She flushed immediately, knowing he knew she would. That day, with Theo naked on the terrace, felt so long ago. ‘It was very unexpected. But I’m glad it was me surveying the villa and not my mum.’

  ‘Me too,’ he answered.

  ‘So why is your father selling the property?’ Abby asked, taking another sip of her drink. ‘Does he not holiday here? Does he need to release some funds?’

  She watched him shake his head. ‘He is … a complex man,’ Theo answered.

  Theo didn’t know what else to say. He didn’t want to be dishonest with Abby in any respect, but talking about his father was hard. It would involve laying everything on the table. He wanted to do that, but it wasn’t going to be easy. Little by little. And the truth was, he didn’t really know why his father was selling the villa. His first thought had been out of spite, to make Theo go back home, or to make his staying on Corfu more difficult, but would Dinis really do that? There had to be more to it.

  ‘Like you,’ Abby said.

  ‘I am not complex.’

  ‘So, it’s normal to deny who you are and pretend you are a gardener?’ There was humour in her voice. She was no longer angry, but she was curious.

  He took a breath. ‘There is something you should know about me, Abby.’

  ‘I know there is,’ she answered. ‘I see it
written on your face. And it’s coming from somewhere deep inside you. I saw it that night after you stopped Igor on the boat.’

  He took another breath. ‘Abby, I am not rich.’

  ‘You’re not?’

  ‘No,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘And that is why saying I was a gardener was not that far from the truth. It is why I am working at The Blue Vine. It is why I have been clearing tables in restaurants and cleaning pools and working my way across islands from Halkidiki.’

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘I know,’ he answered, but said no more.

  ‘You are angry with your father for something?’ she guessed.

  ‘A little.’

  ‘He is angry with you?’

  ‘A lot more.’

  ‘Are you on the run?’ Abby asked. ‘Have you done something illegal with gold bullion?’

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘Nothing like that.’

  ‘Then what is it?’ Abby inquired.

  From inside the pocket of his trousers he felt his mobile phone vibrate. Who would be calling him? Hera? To check he really had got Panos to cover his shift? Spyridoula? Having got his note and needing her car?

  ‘Is that your phone?’ Abby asked. ‘I can hear something buzzing.’

  ‘I should turn it off,’ Theo stated, making no attempt to retrieve it.

  ‘No,’ Abby said. ‘It’s OK. You should answer it. It might be important.’

  He couldn’t imagine there was anything more important than being here with Abby and slowly, somehow, trying to release everything he had held inside his troubled mind for months …

  ‘Honestly,’ she said. ‘Answer it. Please.’

  Theo took the phone from his pocket then and checked the display. It said the one name he hadn’t even considered. Pateras. Father. Seeing the name and photo on the screen threw him. Dinis hadn’t called him, not once, since he’d left. A number of times, in particularly low moments, maudlin from too much beer, haunted by the sounds of the sea, he had thought about calling his father. He’d never known quite what he would say, whether there would be more fiery accusations or something else. But each time, although he’d punched in the number, he’d stopped himself from making the connection. Sometimes he had wondered if his father was sat back in Halkidiki going through the exact same scenario and now … this call.