Page 3 of The Latin Lover


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There hadn’t been any stories of that nature since his last trip to visit her in America, which gave her hope. Lots and lots of hope.

The view of Athens’s business district in front of her faded as her mind went back to that eventful night…

Phoebe sat with one leg curled under her and the other dangling over the kitchen chair. Studying for finals was so not her favorite thing to do. Even worse when she had a bad case of spring fever. Spiros had made noises about maybe coming to see her before graduation in his last e-mail. She’d been unable to settle since.

Both families would be coming for the graduation ceremony itself. Well, everyone but the man she was supposed to marry. Dimitri had too many business commitments to attend her university graduation and, frankly, Phoebe didn’t mind at all.

How could she have been dumb enough to agree to that whole marriage thing in the first place? Dimitri might only be three years older than Spiros, but as far as she was concerned he was completely out of her stratosphere. She flipped to the next page of her notes, guiltily aware that she hadn’t soaked in a single word from the one before it.

She had to get her focus off a possible visit from Spiros and back onto her studies. Going to university was a big deal in itself—her mother hadn’t gone, after all. But coming to the States and studying here had been a true concession on her parents’ part, and she was determined to do them proud. As it stood, she was slated to graduate magna cum laude, and she wasn’t about to mess that up by flunking her finals.

Biting on her lip to redirect her thoughts firmly to what was in front of her, she was soon immersed in world economic theory.

She wasn’t sure how long she’d been studying when the sound of someone pounding on the door of her small student apartment broke through her concentration. Phoebe stood up and promptly fell right back down. The leg she’d been sitting on had fallen asleep. Needles of discomfort shot up from her painfully tingling foot to her thigh. She gasped, but, holding onto the table for support, forced herself to stand again. The knocking resumed. This time an impatient tattoo that rattled the old door.

“Just a second,” she called as she limped across the room.

She flung it open and found Spiros on the other side. All six feet four inches of masculine gorgeousness of him. His dark hair, usually slicked back in a conservative style for business, lay in tousled curls around his face. Unlike her dark brown eyes, his had golden lights that sent butterflies dancing through her insides. His business suits had never been able to hide the muscular definition of his body, but in his current jeans and silk T-shirt he made her mouth water.

“Spiros,” she squeaked in shock. She’d been trying so hard not to think about him that his arrival had taken her completely by surprise.

His signature smile was missing, replaced with a severe frown. “What were you doing?” he demanded.

“Studying. What do you think? I told you I had finals.”

“You looked startled by my presence.”

“I was.”

“You did not look through the peephole to see who it was before you opened the door. Who were you expecting, to fling it wide with such abandon?”

What in the world…? “I forgot to check who it was. I’m not expecting anyone else.”

“But you should have been expecting me. I told you I would come.”

“You implied it, you didn’t say when. Sheesh, Spiros, get over yourself.” She turned and limped back toward the table.

Strong arms lifted her from the floor after she’d only taken a few steps.

She screeched. “Spiros! What are you doing?”

“What is the matter? Why are you limping? Have you hurt yourself?” The questions came out with the speed of automatic rifle-fire.

She had no hope of answering them.

“Well?” he prompted, looking down at her with concern in that golden-brown gaze.

“Can I get a word in edgewise?” she teased.

He snapped his mouth shut with a look of chagrin.

She patted his chest. “My leg fell asleep. Nothing serious.”

“Are you sure? It is not normal for a limb to simply fall asleep.”

“Man, I never knew you were such a worrier.” She found herself grinning. His concern felt good. So did her hand, which she had left resting on his sculpted pec. “It’s perfectly normal when you’ve been sitting on said limb for—” she looked over at the clock on her wall “—um…for more than two hours without moving.”

“This is not good. You should not get so involved with your studies that you are not watching out for your health.”

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