My Sexy Greek Summer. Marie Donovan

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      Cara turned to the salesclerk. “Do you have it in any other colors?”

      Emma raised her eyebrows. “I told you it was a great suit.”

      The clerk ambled over to the racks and selected three suits—one black, one yellow, and the last a melon-orange. Emma shook her head at the yellow. “You’ll look like your liver’s acting up with that color. How about the black?”

      “I like the melon color.” Cara held it up in front of her.

      “You look very nice in that color—most ladies not so much,” the clerk offered.

      “She’s right, Cara. It’s great with your hair and the gold trim on the cups and beads on the ties really make it shine.”

      Cara took the black one from the clerk, as well. “The blue, the black and the orange.” She reached over to another rack. “And both of these crocheted cover-ups. I think the white one will look nice with the turquoise and the black with the black bikini, of course. And those three pairs of matching thong sandals in American size nine.” The woman scurried around, gathering up Cara’s selections. “Emma, what are you getting?”

      Emma’s eyes had widened. “Cara, are you sure you should get all this? We’ll be here for longer than we planned moneywise.”

      Cara stopped for a second. “Really, Emma, don’t worry about it. I built some shopping into my budget. You know how frugally I live.”

      Emma laughed and visibly relaxed. “Frugally is right. Some might even call it cheaply. But shopping spree or no, the blue suit’s still on my bill.”

      “Agreed.” But Cara noticed how Emma returned the hot-pink bikini that she’d been admiring to the rack.

      Emma paid for the blue suit with a wad of euros and took the parcel. Cara caught the clerk’s eye and gestured for her to pull that hot-pink suit back out. The woman nodded. “Emma, why don’t you walk down to that café we passed and grab a sidewalk table for us? We should have an afternoon snack since dinner doesn’t start until about nine or ten o’clock.”

      “You have a good idea,” the clerk chimed in. “The outdoor tables are always busy and they have excellent pastries, as well.”

      “Sure!” Emma scooted out of the shop. She’d been eager to try different Greek desserts. Once she was gone, Cara quickly selected a matching cover-up and sandals for the hot-pink bikini. The total came to over six hundred euros, which Cara put on her platinum credit card without a second thought.

      As the clerk was wrapping her purchases, a jewelry display under the glass countertop caught Cara’s eye. Definitely beach jewelry—various ankle bracelets, toe rings and belly button rings. She stopped and touched her own navel. Her piercing was still open, although she almost never wore anything but a plain tiny silver ring.

      “Would the lady like to see the jewelry? We have a gold-and-pink ankle bracelet that would look lovely with your friend’s suit,” the clerk offered.

      Cara cursorily eyed the bracelet. “Fine, add the matching toe ring, as well.” But she couldn’t take her eyes off the belly button rings. “What about the light blue stone?” It was large and the same color as the afternoon Aegean sky.

      “Very high quality. In Greek is akouamarina—water of the sea. In English, nearly the same.”

      “Aquamarine.” A stone named after seawater was a perfect choice for an island summer. Almost…destiny? Cara dismissed the echo of Athena’s words. “I’ll take it, as well.”

      The clerk did a little half leap of joy but managed to restrain herself enough to tally up the second bill. Cara figured it was fitting to return some of her dough to the Greek economy, back from whence it came.

      “You come back again, okay? You ask for me. My name is Niki, and I take good care of you.”

      “Thank you.” Cara was royally ushered to the exit, where Niki held the door for her. The late-afternoon sun blasted her in the face, so she popped her hat and sunglasses back on.

      The café Emma was waiting at was only about two or three blocks down the main road from the shop. Cara strolled down the sidewalk and walked in front of a narrow alleyway.

      A screech of brakes made her stop dead in her tracks as a Vespa-type motor scooter skidded to a halt a foot from her legs. The sunglasses-wearing driver gave an angry shout in Greek that questioned her brains and skills of observance.

      Cara fought the urge to tell him where to get off, using several pungent Greek verbs, and instead pulled her sunglasses off, giving the young, curly-haired guy her best freezing glare. “Why don’t you look where you’re going, you bonehead? Pulling out of an alley where you can’t see who might be walking in front of you—where’d you learn how to drive—Apollonias?” She figured that might twist the knife a bit. Apollonias was the nearest island and Aphrodisias’s fiercest rival for soccer matches and tourist dollars. She didn’t know if he’d understand much of her English tirade, but it felt good to get it off her chest. When in Greece, do as the Greeks, and they hadn’t been the silent, stoic type for several thousand years.

      The guy’s jaw dropped, and instead of continuing their insult-fest, he began to laugh. “Woo, watch out for those American girls—they’ll straighten you out anytime.” He repeated his comment in Greek for the interested passersby, who all laughed.

      Cara fought a smile, but the corners of her mouth must have given her away, because Vespa-Boy turned his charm in her direction. “And they don’t hold grudges, either, do they? Come for coffee with me, beautiful blue-eyed girl. Everyone knows Americans are so friendly.” He spoke English well, the hint of a Greek accent lending a sexy touch.

      “I’m not that friendly,” she retorted, ignoring the curl of awareness running down her spine. “Try running over an Italian girl—they go for that sort of thing.”

      He laughed again and adjusted his stance to balance the scooter. She couldn’t help notice how his strong thighs straddled the narrow seat, the denim pulling across his zipper. “But will she be as clever as you?”

      Cara gave him a pull-the-other-leg look. “A guy like you doesn’t do cleverness.”

      He leaned close to her, close enough for her to see the black stubble along his hard jaw and smell the tang of sun and sweat. “You’d be surprised what I do. And who I do it with.”

      Wow. Suddenly her staid one-piece suit was rubbing the same places as the racy turquoise bikini had. She licked her suddenly dry lips, her face reflected in the lenses of his sunglasses. Vespa-Boy’s nostrils flared, picking up on her unexpected response.

      He started to say something, but another scooter came up the alley behind him and the driver shouted for him to get out of the way. “I’ll see you around, clever American.” He made it a promise and zoomed past her.

      Cara exhaled noisily and walked toward the café, mentally scolding herself. She was here to help Athena and take a break after her first year of college, not boink the first guy who had floated her boat in years.

      Emma caught sight of her and waved from the café. Cara made her way through the maze of tables and set down her packages. “Good, you went ahead and ordered.” An assortment of desserts crowded СКАЧАТЬ