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‘Poor who?’
‘Your real partner,’ Mary said, and he turned around. ‘The one who has to keep the “for future reference” book on you.’
‘There will never be one.’
‘Never?’ Mary asked.
‘Never, ever,’ Costa said and, eternally wary, decided to make very sure. He closed the door. ‘Youareclear that there is nothing more to this than a temporary arrangement, aren’t you?’
‘I’m just...’ She looked up at him. ‘I’m just interested, that’s all. You really don’t want someone in your life?’
‘I don’t,’ Costa agreed. ‘Being beholden to no one is my sole aim.’
‘Wow!’ Mary blinked. ‘That sounds a whole lot better than being adrift. I might have to try it.’
‘Do,’ Costa said and, although he really should have been long since gone, there was a certain pleasure in her company that made him linger just a little while more. ‘There is a saying in Greece—gia parti mou. It’s my party. It means doing something for yourself, taking care of yourself, putting yourself first. I highly recommend it.’
‘I shall take it on board,’ Mary said, and this time it was she who opened the door for him.
‘Try it!’ Costa said as his driver jumped out of the car and walked at pace to open the door and then hopefully get Costa to the airport in the nick of time.
He lingered for a fraction of a second too long, and then gave in to the thought that had been ruling his head since Saturday night.
Her hair was almost dry now, and bunched in unruly waves—just the way it might look on his pillow.
Ifshe ever came to him.
He still could not read Mary. He had seen her gorgeous eyes light up with desire, and he had seen her turn, ready to run, that first night when she had thought he offered sex.
There was so much going on beneath the surface, Costa knew. But there was a lot at stake for him this weekend, and he needed to be sure that their arrangement would work.
‘Perhaps we should try a couple of practice kisses,’ Costa said now. ‘Just so we know that you won’t do a Ridgemont on me...’
‘A Ridgemont?’
‘You flinched when he touched you. We can’t risk that happening...’
‘When he kissed me at the table, you mean?’
‘That wasn’t a kiss,’ Costa corrected. ‘That was gross.’
Mary swallowed. She had no point of reference, but she was glad to have confirmation that her instinctive reaction had been appropriate.
‘What are you doing?’ she asked as he tugged down the bell on the door and it clattered to the floor.
‘It fell,’ he told her. ‘Perhaps tell your boss she’s incredibly lucky that a customer wasn’t hurt when it did.’
Now there was the bliss of silence when he closed the door.
‘My jumper’s wet...and your shirt...’
Why she was worried for his shirt, Mary wasn’t sure.
‘It’s a kiss,’ he said, and for the second time in their short history he took her face in his hands.
She stared up at him and watched that gorgeous mouth.
‘I don’t detect any flinching.’
