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“You Americans,” I said. “You’re something else.”

“Is that right?”

“That’s right. Approaching a man in a bar in Greece and letting loose with the English, as if the whole world speaks your language.”

“Sometimes it feels like the whole worlddoesspeak my language.”

“All the same, ahelloin Greek would go a long way, cowgirl.”

She kept smiling, amusement taking over. “Cowgirl?”

“Your accent, you speak like the cowboys do on TV. But ‘cowboy’ wouldn’t be the right word, so it would be cowgirl, yes? My English, it’s good, but now and then it’s hard to find the right word.”

She smiled. “I speak like cowboys, huh? And yeah, it’d be cowgirl.”

“Or perhaps cowwoman.”

That got a laugh out of her.

“Ah, you’ll never see a woman more beautiful than when she’s laughing.”

She smiled. “Oh yeah?”

“Well, laughing or coming.”

She bit her lower lip in a manner that was impossibly arousing. My cock shifted a bit in my slacks, and once more all I could think about was peeling her out of that dress.

I glanced down at the drink in her hand, noticing that it was nearly empty.

“It’s a crime for a woman like you to wait for her drink.” I reached forward and slipped the glass out of her hand, a gasp sounding from her as I took a sip. “Vodka cranberry, and not good vodka, either. We’ll need to remedy that.”

I turned, spotting the bartender. He was with a couple of other customers, but as soon as he saw that he had my attention, he dropped them like sacks of dirt and hurried over to me, awaiting my order with obedience. The customers that he’d abandoned were shocked, but when they laid eyes on me their expressions showed that they understood why they’d been bumped back in line. They whispered to one another, pointing at me as surreptitiously as they could.

I raised her drink but nodded toward the good vodka on the top shelf. The bartender got the message, going to work and having the drink ready for me in an instant, another fifty Euro his reward.

“This should be more to your liking.”

She was skeptical but took the drink and sipped it anyway.

“What’s the verdict?” I asked, my eyes never leaving her face.

“It’s delicious. Usually, I go for the cheaper stuff.”

“That’s a mistake. I live my life by a few rules. One of them is to never drink the cheap stuff.”

“Is that right? What’s another?”

“To never miss an opportunity to talk with a beautiful woman.”

She smiled, and I could sense that I was winning her over more and more by the moment. I opened my mouth to speak, but before I got out one word, another woman approached. I recognized the petite, slender, pretty woman with black hair and big blue eyes as one of the woman’s friends that she’d come with.

“Georgia,” she said in a distinctly French accent, placing her hand on the woman’s shoulder. She gave me a skeptical once-over. “There’s this amazing man I want you to meet.”

It didn’t take a social genius to understand what was happening—her friend was giving her an out, just in case she didn’t want my attention.

“That’s OK. This guy here was nice enough to buy me a drink. I apologize I didn’t get your name,” she said, turning to me.

“Alexandros.” I offered her my hand. “But please, call me Alex.”

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