academic—a scholar of ancient Chinese pottery. My sister is married and lives in London. She inherited our father’s passion for pots. Then there’s Tristan, who works for Interpol. He got married at Christmas and is back living in Sydney.’ Pete shook his head at the wonder of that particular notion. ‘Then there’s Luke. He’s older than Tris, younger than me. He’s a Navy SEAL.’ Pete toyed with his bread and butter knife, would have left it at that, but Serena wasn’t chasing a career in photojournalism without having mastered the finer art of persistence.
‘You said you had three brothers,’ she prompted him with a smile. ‘There’s one more.’
‘Jake.’ Thoughts of Jake always came with a serve of guilt. That he hadn’t helped him out more when their mother had died. That he hadn’t shouldered more of the responsibility. ‘He’s a couple of years older than me and runs a handful of martial arts dojos in Singapore.’
‘So your family is scattered all over the globe.’
‘More or less.’
‘My immediate family live in Melbourne. All of them. I can’t imagine them living anywhere but in each other’s pockets.’
‘Is this a bad thing?’ he asked curiously.
‘Hard to say.’ She shrugged. ‘Everyone always knows what everyone else is doing. Whether that’s a bad thing tends to depend on whether they approve of what you’re doing. If they don’t …’ She shrugged again.
‘And do your family approve of your plans for the future? The photojournalism career? The endless travel away from the family bosom?’
‘Let’s just say they don’t quite understand,’ she said lightly, but her eyes told a different, darker story.
‘Maybe one day they will.’
She smiled and leaned back in her chair. ‘You’re a nice man, Pete Bennett. Idealistic, but nice.’
There was that word again. Nice. She really should stop bandying it about. It made a man uncomfortable. ‘You do know that nice isn’t really on this evening’s agenda?’ he told her softly. ‘That would be the wrong notion to be carrying around altogether.’
Her smile held equal measures of wickedness and delight. ‘I’d be very disappointed if it was.’
A weathered old man appeared beside the table, glaring at him from beneath thick grey eyebrows and over a strongly hooked nose. ‘You’ll order now,’ he said.
Pete looked to Serena and raised an eyebrow. ‘Care to order?’
‘My usual, Pappou Theo. The fish stew and the salad.’
‘Pappou Theo?’ he murmured.
‘Honorary grandfather,’ she said. ‘One of my grandfather’s pinochle partners.’
That explained the scowl. ‘I’ll have the oysters and then the fish stew,’ he said. ‘Serena tells me good things about it.’
‘No oysters for you!’ said the old man emphatically. ‘Greek salad with many onions. You’ll like.’ The old man turned to Serena again and surveyed her critically. ‘Does Nico know you’re here?’
‘Yes, Pappou.’
‘And when does he expect you home? At a reasonable hour, I hope.’
‘Yes, Pappou. Very reasonable.’
The old man muttered to himself beneath his breath and turned back to Pete. ‘Drinks?’ he barked.
‘Some white wine?’ Pete looked to Serena.
‘No!’ said the old man. ‘No wine.’
‘Raki?’
‘Pig swill,’ he said.
‘Beer?’
‘Not for you. I’ll bring the water over,’ said the old man, and stalked away.
Pete stared after him. ‘That went well.’
‘I did warn you,’ she said. ‘I told you there’d be sharks. You told me you could swim.’
‘I can swim.’ And he was enjoying the challenge of getting past her guardians. He watched as the old man ambled towards the kitchen with their order. ‘I’m just rethinking our next evening meal. I have a plan.’
‘Is it a cunning plan?’
‘It involves travel off the island. For you.’
‘I like it,’ she said. ‘Simple yet effective.’
‘How far away do you think we’ll have to get before you run out of relatives?’
‘Three or four islands over,’ she said breezily. ‘Five at the most. Or we could play it really safe and go to Istanbul for the evening. That’d work.’
‘You don’t have any relatives in Turkey?’
‘None we admit to.’
‘So … ‘He began to think of more immediate options. ‘What would a man have to do to earn your family’s approval to court you?’
‘You want to court me? I’m thinking courtship comes under the heading of nice again.’
‘I’m speaking theoretically.’
‘Well, theoretically, it’d help if you were Greek and owned a shipping line.’
‘How about Australian and co-owner of a small charter airline?’
‘I’d have to check. Tell me … are you of Greek Orthodox religion?’
‘Catholic,’ he said with a shrug. ‘Lapsed.’
‘You might want to keep that to yourself,’ she said.
‘You should probably stick to talk of undying devotion to me, an exceptionally large income, a huge wedding, and your longing to help produce half a dozen children in very short order.’
‘How many children?’ he spluttered.
‘Oh, okay, five then. But that’s my absolute minimum.’
‘You want five children? In very short order? Are we sure about this?’ She didn’t look all that sure. ‘Two,’ he said firmly. ‘Two’s a good number. Any more than two and we won’t all fit in the helicopter.’
‘Four,’ she countered with a grin. ‘And we’re definitely going to need a bigger helicopter. Something roomy and safe. Family-minded. A Volvo of a helicopter.’
‘Oh, that’s harsh,’ he murmured. ‘Anyone would think you didn’t want a man to consider a serious relationship with you.’
‘They’d
