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He thought back to the moment when she had walked out onto the terrace. With her huge brown eyes and those spindly legs, she had looked like a doe, picking her way through a forest. It was the first time she had worn something that didn’t hang off her body, and his body had reacted viscerally—was still reacting—to the flare of her breasts and the sudden magician’s reveal of all that flawlessly smooth bare skin.
‘Are you ready to order, sir?’
The waiter had materialised by his elbow, but Effie chose that moment to shift in her seat, and as her legs brushed against his he momentarily lost the power of speech. Heart pounding, he braced his hand against the table, trying to clear his head.
‘Yes,’ he snapped, without looking at the waiter. ‘We’ll have the scallops and then the lamb. And a bottle of the Malagouzia.’
Her eyes darted to his face. She had, he knew, expected to choose her own food, but he’d done her yet another favour. It wasn’t as if Michelin-starred restaurants were her stomping ground.
Their starters arrived promptly, followed by the main course, both of which were delicious. Only he was too on edge to really enjoy either.
‘Was everything to your satisfaction?’ the waiter said as he took their plates.
‘It was delicious, thank you.’
Effie looked up at the waiter and, watching her smile, Achileas felt the muscles in his arms bunch tightly. Her smile was gentle and miraculous...pure. It was like catching sight of a harvest moon.
The waiter clearly agreed with him, he thought irritably, his jaw hardening. It made him feel territorial in a way that seemed both shocking and justified.
He reached over and caught her hand. She blinked, and his gaze sharpened. She’d done something different to her hair. The sides were pulled back but the rest was loose. She had caught the sun a little too. It suited her...brought out the colour of her eyes. Less iced tea, more single malt whisky, he thought with a jolt, wondering how he had ever thought they were boring.
‘I think we’ll skip dessert, agápi mou.’
‘And do what?’
As he opened his mouth to reply, the memory of how she’d kissed him yesterday rushed into his head like an unruly wave and his fingers tightened around hers. Sunlight was bouncing off the sea outside into the restaurant, making the waves appear to ripple over the walls, and now he felt almost as if they were underwater. Around them, the other diners seemed blurred and indistinct.
‘Whatever you want.’
Her pupils flared and suddenly he forgot his frustration. He forgot to be angry with his father. He even forgot that they were pretending to be a couple. Suddenly all that mattered was that molten light in her eyes.
Everything was soft and simple and—
There was a clatter of cutlery and then a crash, and Effie’s eyes jerked sideways.
He frowned.
‘Syngnómi, sir.’ Glancing over with an agonised expression on his face, the waiter ducked down to pick up the plates he’d dropped.
Achileas stared at him irritably, and then his irritation increased tenfold as Effie pulled her hand free and bent down to help pick up the knives and forks.
‘Leave it,’ he snapped, catching her arm. ‘It’s his job. Although maybe it shouldn’t be.’
She stared at him, a flood of colour spilling across her cheeks. ‘It was an accident,’ she said.
‘It’s incompetence,’ he retorted, irritated on all kinds of levels by her defensive remark. ‘And if I was paying his wages he’d be fired. I don’t pay people to be incompetent.’
Her chin jerked up. ‘No, just compliant. Excuse me.’
Astonishingly, that last exchange and the accompanying small smile had been addressed not to him but the waiter, and before he even had a chance to react Effie had pushed back her chair. He watched incredulously as she wove swiftly through the restaurant. Judging by the sudden stillness in the room, he wasn’t the only one struggling with incredulity at this development and, fuming, he tossed some notes onto the table and strode between the rigid diners to the door.
Outside in the street the sun was hot and bright—but not nearly as hot and bright as his temper. Grabbing her hand, he pulled her down a deserted side-street. ‘Don’t ever speak to me like that again.’
She turned towards him, her eyes flashing almost gold in the light. ‘That won’t be a problem,’ she said quietly.
‘Good.’
‘Because I don’t plan on speaking to you again.’ She stepped past him.
