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If she had a guy like that waiting at home, she’d be glued to his side.
It was a wonder Sarah found it in herself to get out of bed on a morning.
Sarah chuckled at April’s pouting remark. “I never get drunk. You know that. Come on,” Sarah chivvied. “Let’s get you out of here.”
April scowled but staggered to her feet. She was shaky on her four-inch heels, which told her how drunk she was.
She’d been wearing heels since she was nine. Having been forced into beauty pageants by her insane mom from age five, April was more comfortable in uncomfortable clothes than most would ever realize.
Sarah grabbed a hold of her arm and propped her upright as they staggered some more on their way out of the bar.
April was so tired of the bar scene, anyway. She should never have brought Sarah here. They’d have had heaps more fun at the pizza joint just down the road from their offices.
April pressed her head to Sarah’s shoulder. “I promise, pizza’s on me next time we go to Angelo’s.”
Sarah smirked. “Pizza’s always on you when we go there.”
That remark had April grimacing. “Only because I usually owe you a favor.”
“I fully expect the Greece trip to constitute as several favors.” She rubbed her hands together. “This is my devious plan, I’ll have you know. I never have to pay for take-out ever again.”
“Yeah, right.” The fifteen-buck pizza was hardly the most luxurious offering. “I’ll be paying you back until the next millennium. And I never said I’d go to Greece.”
Sarah elbowed her in the side. “No, you never said you wouldn’t go either. But you will. You know you have to go. Bayeau has the power to bring our company down if we fail her.”
“You ever get sick of pandering to these crazy people’s egos?”
“Of course. Then, we go to Angelo’s and all is suddenly right with the world again.”
April’s lips twitched. She had a point. “You sure you don’t mind?”
Sarah heaved out a sigh. “Woman. I don’t mind.”
And that was how, three days later, April found herself in Greece.
2
What was it with these American women, Luca asked himself as his guest staggered off the small boat onto the dock.
Davos raised a hand at Luca as he approached but didn’t wait to speak. One thing he appreciated about the grizzled, old sailor was that the fewer words shared, the better they both felt. Davos took off, leaving behind the rumbling sound of his engine, a small bubble of waves in his wake, and the woman squinting up at the sun as she stared over at the ocean.
Not that he could fault her.
He’d been visiting this island for years, and always upon his return, he gawked.
Still, he hadn’t just arrived, which meant his attention was on her and not the vista ahead.
Americans always seemed to have whiter than white teeth, and the women always wore crazy high heels. Even at inappropriate moments. Like this one.
Luca had spent a fortune kitting out his latest investment. He wanted it to be high end. That meant everything, and he meant everything, required hauling over.
The dock that had once been rickety and had the look of something that would fall to pieces in the next storm, was now strong, sturdy, and smooth. He’d dare anyone to get so much as a damn splinter off the damn thing, that was how much he’d put into it.
And it was a good job
too. This woman’s heels could have gotten stuck between the joists, and she’d have broken her damn ankle.
That was all he needed.
