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‘I suppose I can survive one night without dining on plastic chicken,’ Shannon had laughed. After all, she’d thought as she clung to him on the back of the Harley, what harm could come of having dinner together?
A string of tin bells strung over the door tinkled as they entered the restaurant, the bright tones barely audible over the soft buzz of conversation coming from the small bar to the right.
A few gnarled faces looked up as the door closed behind them, glancing at Shannon and Cade with indifference.
Beyond, dark wooden booths clung to rough, whitewashed walls. The air was delicately scented with garlic and rosemary.
‘Are you sure we’re in Manhattan?’ Shannon whispered as Cade slipped her jacket from her shoulders.
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sp; ‘Every sea voyage should end at a foreign port,’ he said softly. ‘Just wait until you taste Elena’s grilled lamb. Yasou, Nico,’ he called, stepping towards a straight- backed old man with a fierce smile and a headful of white curls. ‘It’s good to see you again.’
The old man smiled. ‘ Yasou, my friend. It is a long time.’
Cade smiled as he slipped his arm around Shannon. ‘This is Shannon. I’ve been telling her all about the magic of Elena’s kitchen.’
Shannon smiled as the old man took her hand in his.
‘Cade’s managed to make everything sound wonderful, although I’m afraid I don’t know much about Greek food.’
‘Then it will be our pleasure to teach you.’
‘Where is Elena?’ Cade asked.
‘Where am I always?’ a musical voice chuckled. ‘Kah- leespehrah, Cade. We have missed you.’
Cade grinned as he kissed the cheek she offered him. ‘Good evening to you as well, Elena. You’re beautiful, as always.’
The woman laughed and patted his cheek. ‘You are a good liar, as always.’ Her dark eyes slid to Shannon and she smiled. ‘Nico, why do you let our guests stand here like this? Take Cade to his table and bring them some retsina while I go to the kitchen. What would you like, Cade? I have some wonderful little fish I can grill, and those meatballs you love, with the lemon sauce. And I made musakas just this afternoon.’
‘Whatever you choose, Elena. I put myself in your hands.’
‘I can see why you like it here,’ Shannon murmured as they settled into the farthest booth. ‘They act as if the prodigal son’s returned!’
‘Nico and Elena are as close to family as I’ve got. They bought this place about the same time I put the Marauders together. Elena’s half-convinced I’m their good-luck charm, although I keep telling her it’s the other way around. Thank you, Nico,’ he said as the old man brought them a bottle of retsina. ‘This is just what we need on such a cold, wet night.’
‘I think I’ll pass,’ Shannon said, watching as Cade poured the yellowish liquid.
‘It tastes better than it looks,’ he said. ‘Try some of mine.’
She leaned forward obediently, sniffing at the glass he held out to her, and then she took a sip.
‘Paint thinner,’ she said, wrinkling her nose. ‘With a touch of liqorice added so you can get it down.’
Cade laughed. ‘It’s easy to tell you’ve led a sheltered life, Padgett. I’ll order some white wine.’
‘No, don’t, please. I’d only fall on my face. I have to confess—I’m starving, and anything I drink will go right to my head.’
‘That’s a tempting prospect. A foggy night and a beautiful woman, her head reeling from a bit too much to drink...’
Shannon wrinkled her nose at him.
‘I hate to ruin that little scene, Morgan, but when this woman has too much to drink, she tends to fall on her face. At least, that’s what they tell me.’
‘You mean you don’t remember? It’s bad enough to be drunk, but to be drunk and not remember is positively sinful.’
‘I remember just enough to think it’s a miracle I lived,’ she said, smiling at him. ‘I was in my third year at college...’
