Her powers of resistance were pitiful. She stared at the mirror above the sink and mimicked herself, “‘Okay, Theo. Yes, Theo. Whatever you say, Theo.’” Pathetic!
She’d always imagined her return to Mythelios would be more...triumphant, in a dignified and grown-up way. She’d wow him with her cool professionalism and make him realize exactly what he’d lost.
Not fall into his arms at the first sign of an aftershock and then agree to curl up in his guest bedroom only not to sleep because he’d be right next door.
She stared at herself again.
Serious face, this time.
Had she tarred Theo with the same brush as his father? Theo had never told her to get lost. Or to steer clear. Okay, so she had heard him laughing with his mates about a Nikolaides never marrying a housemaid once, and that had stung—singed itself into her psyche probably for ever—but it was Dimitri who’d told her to stay away from Theo, not Theo himself. And she wasn’t a housemaid anymore.
Besides, there was definitely chemistry between them. No denying that. There always had been.
But what if this was just a tease only for him to push her away again? She knew Theo would never marry her, but she had come back sort of triumphant. She was a nurse in an exclusive hospital. She’d done some cracking good work today. Her mother was free of her need for a Nikolaides paycheck so there’d be no more dangling that fear factor over her head. It still shocked her that Dimitri had said he’d fire her mother if Cailey didn’t leave his family alone.
A flame lit sharp and bright inside her. She would take Theo up on his invitation. The bed. The hot chocolate. She deserved it.
It might not have been his fault her mother had decided to sell the family home to help Cailey with her nursing school fees, but it was his fault for being so ruddy nice she couldn’t find a reason to say no to staying with him. And if Dimitri found out about this and tried to exact any kind of vengeance the blame would fall solidly on Theo—and then she’d leave the island and never think of either of them again.
“Ready?” Theo strode into the changing room, scooped up her backpack with one hand, slung it on his shoulder and opened his other arm to create a protective arc around her shoulders as he steered them through the crowds to the front door.
Oh, swoon. Wrinkly scrubs suited him. Then again, being naked probably suited him too. Not that she’d imagined that. Much.
He pushed open the front door, his arm still round her and whispered, “Out of the frying pan...”
At first she didn’t get it—and then just a few footsteps beyond the clinic a whole new raft of sensations bombarded her.
Discordancy. The shrill sounds of heavy machinery hammering away at centuries-old rock and beam. The savaged spot-lit remains of homes and businesses that had virtually disintegrated when the quake had hit.
A wash of guilt rushed over her that she could have been thinking naughty thoughts and having saucy tummy-flips while all this mayhem was still happening across the harbor town.
This was the reason she was here. Not to play out some revenge fantasy against one of the island’s richest men.
She shivered beneath the weight of Theo’s arm, which was still resting lightly on her shoulders protectively, the way a boyfriend or a husband might touch a loved one who’d had a rough day and was feeling a little fragile.
“You warm enough?”
Theo’s voice was soft, a balm against the harsh sound of saws on metal and jackhammers rat-a-tat drumming against concrete.
“Mmm...” She was confused, maybe, but not cold. Not with his arm wrapped around her.
Another shiver rattled down her spine at the thought of his father seeing them. He’d warned her off once and this was stark disobedience of the “stay away from my son” remit she’d promised to obey.
But that was years ago.
“Want my jacket?”
“No, no. I’m good.”
Scared. Excited. A little bit more lusty than she should be. But strangely...whole. As if coming back to the island and finding herself walking side by side with Theo Nikolaides had been the one thing missing from her life.
“Sure?”
He slid his hand to her waist and steered her round some debris that had fallen from a shop front they were passing. The owners sat inside. Their folding chairs flanked an empty crate holding a candle and a half-empty bottle of ouzo. The pair, who must be husband and wife, lifted their glasses when they saw Cailey and Theo passing.
“Yasou!” the pair called out in tandem, then downed their drinks, wincing against the angelica and mace-flavored liquor.
Cheers? Seriously? With their house fallen to bits round them?
“Yasou!” Theo called back, smiling warmly at Cailey, then quickly tightening his fingers at her waist and tugging her out of the path of a couple of smashed watermelons that had been squirted out beneath a collapsed canopy.
“Making the best of a bad lot?” Theo called over his shoulder.
In Greek they called out the age-old saying, “Everything in its time, and in August...mackerel!”
Despite herself, Cailey giggled. “They’re certainly optimistic.”
Theo shrugged. “They’ve probably seen worse.”
Cailey pulled back, and the warmth of Theo’s fingers shifted easily to the small of her back as if they’d been a couple forever. “Worse than their shop crashing to bits when they both look on the brink of retirement?”
Theo stuck out his lower lip and tilted his chin. “First: people like them never retire. Second: a bit of patient-doctor privilege sometimes gives an insight into how people prioritize what is bad and what is worth raising a glass for.”
Ah. A “big picture” response. She got it. Theo was saying a mashed-up shop was nothing to what that couple had already faced on a personal level. They might have lost a child. Battled cancer. Survived a serious accident. Whatever it was had already put this couple face to face with their mortality—and this time, after the huge quake that had taken over a dozen lives already, they had survived. So why not toast one another?
She glanced back at the couple, merrily refilling their glasses and laughing quietly to one another. Bad things happened, but it was how you responded to them that mattered.
Like deciding whether or not to be frightened of a man who no longer held her family’s purse strings. Or of his son who, when you looked at him “big picture” style, was little short of perfect.
“CAILEY-OULA!”
Theo retracted
