The Santorini Bride Page 7
But they would do it again, she thought now, smiling at the delicious thought. They had three weeks.
Suddenly energized, Martha sat up and flung the sheet off. A quick shower and a hair wash later, she dressed in a pair of shorts and a halter top, ready to take on the world. But the second she put her hand on the door handle, a stab of panic assailed her.
What if her enthusiasm hadn’t been shared? What if when she saw Theo this morning, he looked at her with distaste? What if he’d decided that Agnetta—or even Cassie—was a better bet? A million qualms assailed her.
But she couldn’t hide in the bedroom all day. If it was off, at least she’d had one night. She knew now what she’d been missing.
A lot.
Shoving the thought out of her mind, she opened the door.
“Ah, finally,” Theo said.
Martha saw him grinning at her from the kitchen. He was leaning against the counter, barefoot, wearing a pair of canvas shorts and a faded blue T-shirt that ought to have looked shabby, but only served to make him look far too sexy for his own good.
From the looks Cassie and Agnetta were bestowing on him, Martha knew they saw it, too. But Theo only looked at her—and the look was decidedly possessive. “I told them you’d need to sleep in,” he added. “Jet lag is a terrible thing.”
The words sounded totally innocent. The innuendo was anything but. Theo’s implication was clear—that it wasn’t “jet lag” that had created Martha’s need to sleep in. And the smug look he gave her told everyone exactly who had been the reason for it.
Of course he was doing it to impress Agnetta and Cassie with the intensity of their “affair.” But it was true, damn it. And Martha couldn’t keep from blushing furiously.
Theo laughed. “Come and eat. Aggie’s made us all breakfast.”
Agnetta looked as if she were going to object to something—possibly sharing the breakfast she’d made for Theo or possibly his casual reference to her as “Aggie.” But apparently she decided to keep her mouth shut.
Instead she smiled at Martha. “Ja, do come and eat. I can see you like to eat.” The look that traveled up and down Martha’s curves said clearly that Agnetta thought she ate far too much.
Martha pasted a polite smile on her face. “Thank you. That would be lovely. Did you have a nice evening?” she asked as she helped herself to some of the omelette Agnetta had made. Theo added a couple of pieces of toast to her plate and casually leaned across to kiss her on the lips.
Martha nearly dropped the plate.
“Careful, there,” Theo said, rescuing it, then taking it from her and putting it on the table and holding out a chair for her.
Martha raised a brow at his very proper behavior. So did Agnetta.
Cassie giggled, then she said, “We went clubbing. It was great. You should come with us tonight.”
“Yes,” Agnetta said quickly. “There are some wild places, but there’s a wonderful little out-of-the-way club we found. Great music. You’d love it, Theo. Remember when—”
“Not interested,” Theo said before Agnetta had even finished her sentence. He bent over and breathed in Martha’s ear, making her shiver. “I’ve got better things to do,” he murmured.
Cassie giggled again. And Agnetta made a sound somewhere between a huff and a snort. Martha could almost see her bristling.
“Theo,” she protested.
He nipped her ear. “Eat up,” he instructed. “We need to get going.”
Going? She looked at him quizzically.
“Martha is a muralist,” he told the other two. “Fantastic stuff. I’m taking her sailing so she can do some sketching.”
“Really?” Cassie looked intrigued.
“Oh, yes,” Theo said with a perfectly straight face.
“I’m sure you’ll be doing lots of sketching,” Agnetta snapped. Clearly the operative word was the unspoken not.
But Theo just raised his eyebrows, grinned, then pulled out a chair and sat down to watch Martha eat.
She knew it was all an act. Knew he was doing it to make it clear to Agnetta and Cassie that he was besotted with her. It had nothing to do with her at all. She could have been a fence post—albeit a female one—and he’d probably have done the same thing.
Even so, she couldn’t help but respond. Couldn’t help but remember there had really been something there between them last night. And so now she smiled at him between bites of omelette. She shared her piece of toast with him. It was all very personal and intimate. So what if it only lasted until they were out of sight of the house?
“How long will you be gone?” Agnetta asked when Martha had finished and was rinsing off her plate.
“All day,” Theo said promptly.
“We’ll get together for dinner then,” Agnetta said.
But Theo shook his head. “Don’t wait for us. I doubt if we’ll be back in time. But there are plenty of good places in town if you don’t feel like cooking for yourselves.” He gave her a bright cheerful look, determinedly misunderstanding her goal.
Agnetta gave him one of those looks that should have mortally wounded him. “I have no intention of cooking. I just thought we might make an evening of it.”
Theo just shrugged. “Right. Well, sorry. Martha and I have…other plans.” And so saying he opened the door, grabbed Martha’s hand and hauled her after him. “Have fun,” he called over his shoulder to Agnetta and Cassie.
“Bye! You, too,” Cassie warbled, waving them off.
Agnetta made a sucking-sour-lemons face and didn’t reply at all.
The nearly midday sun beat down on them as they left the house’s shaded garden and went down the curving, stair-step street that led down into town.
Once they were out of sight of the house, Martha expected Theo to ditch her. But he kept her fingers firmly clasped in his as he strode purposefully down the winding street.
Bemused and oddly exhilarated, Martha kept up with him. Something about the hard strength of his fingers wrapped around hers made her smile. Maybe because Julian had never been particularly possessive. He’d always abhorred what he called “public displays of affection,” by which he meant not only kissing and fondling, but simple hand holding.
Theo apparently had no such qualms. Or maybe he was just being a good and diligent actor. After all, he would want word to get back to Agnetta and Cassie from the town gossips that he and Martha were definitely an item. The notion was a little deflating but, she reminded herself, only to be expected.
They were playing parts—even if last night had been the most amazing night of her life. So, today, if he left her on a beach somewhere, she’d manage. As long as he picked her up and brought her back at the end of the day, Martha was determined not to care.
As for the rest, well, she’d just go along for the ride.
CHAPTER FOUR
“I FORGOT my sketch pad and pencils!” Martha stopped abruptly halfway down the hill and turned back up toward the house.
“You don’t have to sketch,” Theo protested. It had just been the first excuse he’d thought of when he was trying to get them out of the house without Agnetta and Cassie tagging along.
“But I should,” Martha said practically, still not moving. “What am I going to do all day otherwise?”
Theo raised his eyebrows and grinned at her. “I’m sure we can think of something,” he murmured, and was gratified to see her cheeks suddenly go bright red.
“Well, I—” She still wasn’t moving.
“Come on,” he said, giving her hand a tug. “If you desperately need a sketch pad, I’m sure we can find you one.”
He didn’t need a sketch pad or anything else—besides Martha—to keep him entertained all day. He was sure of that.
Having Martha again was all he’d been thinking about since he’d got up this morning. In fact he’d have stayed right there in bed with her, but he knew exactly what would have happened if he had—the same thing that had happened three times already that night!
He hoped it was for her, too. Because he definitely wanted to explore a little more of that amazing physical chemistry that bubbled between them.
“I should get a sketch pad in the village,” she went on, her thoughts obviously going down a different avenue. “Because Agnetta will probably ask to see what I’ve done.”
“Agnetta has a very good idea what we’ll be doing,” Theo told her bluntly, which was only the truth. “Agnetta is not exactly an innocent.”
“No, but Cassie probably is.”
“D’you think so?” The notion surprised him. He figured that anyone who hung around with Agnetta would definitely know the score.
“Your mother sent her,” Martha reminded him. “Is your mother in the habit of sending you loose women?”
“No.” On the contrary, the women his mother sent were all screened and vetted and guaranteed one hundred percent wife material. Theo rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. “I see what you mean. But then, what the hell is she doing with Agnetta?” he demanded.
Martha shrugged. “They were working on a shoot together. Cassie probably mentioned coming here to see you—at your mother’s suggestion—and I imagine Agnetta just invited herself along. And Cassie would be much too nice to say no.”
It was completely plausible. And Theo looked at Martha with new respect. How it had all come about hadn’t even occurred to him. Yet now that she spelled it out, he could see that was probably exactly the way it had happened.
“Maybe we should have asked Cassie to come with us today,” Martha said. “So she doesn’t get entirely corrupted.”
“No.” Theo was adamant about that. “Besides—” he slanted her a glance, a grin tipping the corner of his mouth “—what makes you think we wouldn’t corrupt her?”
Martha gave him a light shove. His grin widened and he looped an arm over her shoulders. She fit there so easily. She was just the right height. He wondered what else she would be just the right height for, and the sudden quickening in certain portions of his anatomy told him that thoughts along those lines were better left for less-public occasions.
“Hey,” he said, more to distract himself than anything else, “there’s a mural.”
It was really graffiti, but Martha didn’t immediately dismiss the brightly splashed words on the whitewashed wall. “Not exactly,” she said. “It’s universal, though. And while a lot is awful, some of it is actually good. Mostly it’s kids, inarticulate and inept, trying to find a voice.”
Theo, who had only been kidding, was interested that she took it seriously. “Did you do graffiti,” he asked, “when you were finding your voice?”
She shook her head. “I was far too well behaved,” she grinned. “And not nearly desperate enough. I pretty much had what I wanted then. Or thought I did. But—” she took another long look at the wall and sighed “—I can understand now why someone might be desperate enough.”
Was she that desperate now? Theo wondered. Or was it just that her well-ordered world had suddenly turned upside down and she was trying to make sense of things?
He remembered the feeling—when all he’d hoped for with Jill had come crashing down around his ears. It had been a bitter, painful time, and he’d done pretty much what Martha had done—taken to his heels. But in his case he’d sailed solo around the world, proving to himself that he didn’t need anyone to survive.
He couldn’t see Martha doing that. She needed people. Needed him.
The thought was so unexpected it made him stop in his tracks.
No, she didn’t, he immediately corrected himself. And he didn’t need her. He just felt sorry for her. She was a nice girl and he didn’t like seeing her pain.
But that was all. Compassion was one thing. Getting involved was totally different.
There was no way Theo was getting involved.
He and Martha Antonides had had one night together. Granted, it had been an amazing night. But it wasn’t more than that. They’d had sex. No strings. Just sex.
And they’d have it again today.
“Come on. Time’s wasting,” he said abruptly, and tightened his grip on her hand to pull her past the graffiti-filled wall. He needed to keep his priorities straight and focus on the prospects of the day ahead.
When they got to the shops, Martha bought a sketch pad. She bought charcoal and pastels and some soft-leaded pencils. She stood there considering watercolors while Theo shifted from one foot to the other and despaired of ever getting away.
“Are you finished yet?” he finally demanded while she chewed her lip and continued to study all her options.
“What? Oh—” she looked up and actually seemed surprised to see him “—I, um, guess so. I didn’t think. Are you really waiting for me?” She sounded surprised about that, too.
“I was, yes,” Theo said a little stiffly. “I thought we’d discussed that already, spending the day together, since you’re so big about making sure we tell the truth.” He did his best to make it sound like a matter of supreme indifference to him.
“Okay. As long as you’re sure.” Martha beamed at him and Theo felt as if the sun had come out, which was ridiculous because there wasn’t a cloud in the whole Mediterranean sky. She grabbed a child’s watercolor kit and a couple of brushes and headed for the front of the shop. “This should do it.”
Theo, studying it all, felt a bit disgruntled. If she planned to use everything she bought, she’d be painting and sketching all day. But to argue would just take more time.
He took the package of art supplies from her, though, as soon as they got outside. “I’ll carry them.”
Martha’s brows lifted.
“What? Are you some feminist who’s got to carry her own load?” He couldn’t have said why it mattered, but it did.
“No,” Martha said. “Be my guest. Do whatever you like.”
“I will,” he said. And since he wanted to take her hand again as they walked through the streets to the dock, he did that, too. She slanted him a sideways glance. He shrugged. “You said to do whatever I liked.”
A corner of her mouth twitched into a smile and she squeezed his fingers.
He led her down to the dock. “Have you sailed much?”
“I used to. It’s in the genes. Or I hope it is. I haven’t done it for ages. So feel free to yell at me when you want me to do something.”
Feel free to yell at her? That was a novel idea. Agnetta had damned sure never said that. Neither had any other woman he’d ever spent time with. Not even Jill. Theo nodded. “Yeah, I’ll be sure to do that.”
Walking through the village with Martha was quite different from doing it on his own. He was accustomed to women looking his way, especially since the damned article had plastered his face—not to mention backside—on magazine stands all over the world. But he’d been pretty much ignored by the locals until today. Now they were calling out greetings to Martha. Several of them even smiled at him, which was more than they had done before.
One, the lecherous wolf who ran the liquor store, whistled and shouted something in Greek that had Martha’s cheeks flaming.
“Who’s that?” Theo’s eyes narrowed.
“Costas,” Martha muttered. “A friend of my brother’s. Ignore him.”
“What did he say?”
“You don’t speak Greek?” She looked relieved. Then, “He didn’t say anything.”
“I thought you liked to tell the truth.”
“He didn’t say anything important,” Martha clarified.
“Yeah, right.” But just to make sure Costas-the-wolf understood who the alpha was, Theo gave him a hard stare followed by a smug smile as he deliberately slung a possessive arm over Ma
rtha’s shoulders.
“You do that and everyone is going to think we’re a couple,” Martha warned.
“Let ’em.” It felt satisfying. “Anyway, we know better.”
“Well, yes, but—”
“Is it a problem?” he challenged her.
She glanced sideways at him, then shrugged and gave him a faint smile. “No.”
“Good.” He felt a certain grim satisfaction. “It will just give them something to talk about.”
“Did you bring food?”
“Food?” It hadn’t even crossed his mind.
“If we’re going to be out all day, we need food. I do, anyway.”
Were they never going to get to the boat? He sighed. “Fine. There’s the grocery. Stock up.”
She picked up food the way she picked up art supplies—as if they were going to be gone years.
“You’re going to eat all that?” Theo looked askance at the amount of food Martha had stockpiled.
She grinned. “I expect sailing will make us hungry.” Her tone was entirely deadpan, but there was a glint of mischief in her eyes—and a slight emphasis on the word sailing that made him hope she had a few other ideas in mind, as well.
Theo grinned and handed her into the sailboat at last. “I expect it will.”
It was like a dream.
An idyll.
A fantasy in which the real world—the world of work and demands and bills and inconveniences and shortcomings, not to mention Agnetta and Cassie and the memory of wretched Julian—did not exist.
Only she and Theo existed—in a private world of their own.
She’d forgotten how much she loved to sail. It was wonderful to feel the wind in her hair, the sun on her face—and the touch of Theo’s hand on hers as he showed her which way to move the rudder and how to shift the sails.
They sailed along the island, then anchored in a sheltered cove where she actually meant to do some sketching.
But she didn’t sketch.
“Later,” Theo said, his tone gruff and imperative. “Swim with me first.”
So she swam with him. They raced and dove and played in the water.