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“Unfortunately, your ride has been delayed. I will take you to your hotel.”
“You...but...” she sputtered and glanced around, torn. She was eager to leave the airport, unpack and unwind in the comfort of her hotel room, but... “I don’t even know your name.”
He smiled. “I am Nick. Nick Costas. The men at the counter can vouch for me, if you would like. I fly in and out of this airport often enough. Or I can show you some identification.” Without waiting for a reply, he pulled out his wallet and produced his driver’s license.
“The State of New York?” She glanced up. “You’re American?”
“Yes, for the past five years, but much of my family still lives in Athens. Between business and family, I am here often.” He pocketed his wallet. “And you are?”
Single now.
She cleared her throat and in a demure voice managed to respond, “Darcie Hayes of Buffalo. We’re practically neighbors.”
It was a stretch given that his address was on Park Avenue in Manhattan and she lived upstate, several hours away. They shared a time zone but were worlds apart based on the designer watch strapped to his wrist.
Still, he was attracted to her.
She may have been long out of practice when it came to flirting, but she knew male interest when she saw it. For a woman who’d spent several years waiting to walk down the aisle while her boyfriend deferred to his mother’s wishes, it was heady stuff indeed.
“It’s good to meet you, Darcie Hayes of Buffalo.”
He offered a hand and their palms met briefly. The simple contact managed to make her insides quake. Of course, they were shaky to begin with as a result of exhaustion and the fact that she’d bypassed the in-flight meal of mystery meat coated in unappetizing neon yellow gravy. Still, she pulled back her hand, worried she might make a fool of herself.
“It’s nice to meet you, too. And I really appreciate your help.” She tucked a hank of hair behind one ear. “Um, what did the tour company people say?”
“Stavros is...indisposed.”
Stavros, there was that name again. Nick said he’d gone to school with the man who owned the company, but she asked hopefully, “Is this Stavros the driver?”
“The driver, the tour guide and the owner of Zeus Tours.”
“Oh, boy. A real multitasker, hmm?” She blew out a breath. “When you say indisposed, what does that mean exactly? Has he fallen and broken his leg? Or contracted a nasty virus and is racked with fever?”
Nick shook his head. “Stavros is still lying in bed. He told me that he had a late night out with his friends and overindulged.”
“He’s h-h-hung over?” she sputtered incredulously.
“I am afraid so.”
Darcie gritted her teeth. She should have known. The moment Tad bragged that he’d gotten a great deal, it should have been abundantly clear that the dream Greek honeymoon trip he’d booked was too good to be true for a reason.
“I was really hoping this Stavros had a stomach bug,” she muttered. This surprised a laugh out of Nick. She asked him, “How familiar are you with Zeus Tours?”
Nick wasn’t laughing now. “I am familiar enough to know that Stavros pours more money down his throat than he puts back into his company. He took over when his father died two years ago. In that time, he has had to let go more than half of his employees. He is not a bad man, but neither is he a good businessman.”
Although she wasn’t normally one to air her complaints to a stranger, weariness had her muttering, “Terrific. Just terrific. I’m here for a vacation. God knows, I’m due for one. I haven’t had a day off work in two years. I’ve worked overtime and taken every crappy assignment I was handed without complaint so I could save up money for...for...” She waved a hand and tried to reel in her emotions. “Anyway, I was counting on the vacation described in the brochure—first-rate accommodations, air-conditioned motor coaches for sightseeing with a knowledgeable guide, authentic Greek cuisine at some of the country’s best restaurants. Is this company going to be able to deliver on any of its promises?”
“No.” He didn’t hesitate at all, making that one word all the more damning.
Darcie closed her eyes briefly. “Of course not. Half of my luggage is missing. What showed up is, well, the half I wish were missing. Not that it really matters, given that my dream vacation is turning out to be a bust and I haven’t even gotten out of the airport yet.” She sighed. “I should have taken the condo and Rufus.”
“Rufus?”
“Also know as the spawn of Satan. He’s a cat,” she added when Nick continued to frown. Not that her explanation made anything clear. She shook her head. “Never mind. Trust me when I say, this is the story of my life.”
“Come.” Nick smiled. “You can share this story of your life on the drive to your hotel.”
Why not?
Darcie decided to listen to the little voice telling her that Nick Costas wasn’t a threat. After all, it was the same little voice that had told her to cut all ties and run where her ex-fiancé was concerned, so she figured it knew what it was talking about. It had taken her several years to pay attention the last time. She only had two weeks in Greece. She was going to make the most of them. Starting now.
“In the mood for a good laugh, are you?” she asked wryly.
Nick smiled again. Oh, he was in the mood...for something. A diversion at the very least, and he figured he’d found one. A pretty one, too, given the woman’s tumble of chestnut hair, wide-set Aegean blue eyes and a body that would have made the ancient goddesses green with envy.
He’d come to the airport that day with every intention of leaving Greece and returning to his home in Manhattan. He’d booked a flight to New York, a flight that would be boarding shortly without him. Just as well. He’d been angry with his family and their unabashed matchmaking and had allowed his emotions to cloud his judgment.
Of course, he would have to be back in Greece within a fortnight anyway. No amount of irritation would cause him to miss his brother’s wedding. He would never live down the talk otherwise. And there was plenty of that already since Pieter was marrying Nick’s childhood sweetheart, Selene.
Half of Athens was gossiping about it, waiting for a fight to erupt between the brothers. Nick was determined not to indulge the gawkers, as awkward and, yes, painful, as the situation was. He lamented the strain between him and Pieter. He regretted the division in his once unified family. But neither could be helped. The best he could do was to gather up his dignity and feign indifference.
“Allow me,” he told Darcie and took over pushing the trolley. Five steps later, he nearly took out a bank of unoccupied chairs.
“It wants to go in circles,” she warned.
She was shaking her head and smiling. He liked her smile. Her lips were inviting even without any added gloss. A lovely diversion, he thought again.
And why not? He was entitled. He had no strings to tangle him up. He hadn’t had those since Selene. That was the way he preferred it, too, as he’d pointed out to his grandmother that very morning when Yiayia expressed concern about his ongoing single status. Nick had no such concerns. What he had was a plan, a meticulously crafted five-year plan to grow his auction business. After that, he might start thinking about settling down, but never again would he allow his heart to be broken. Once was enough.
“Is this part of the story of your life?” he asked Darcie, motioning to the wayward cart.
“That’s right.” She lowered her voice to a confidential whisper. “I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but since you’re being so nice, I feel I owe you the truth. I’m a magnet for bad luck.”
“Really?”
“Really. Swear.” She traced a cross over her very impressive chest.
Nick followed the progress of her fingertip before allowing his gaze to lift to her lips again. “Perhaps your luck is about to change.”
TWO
While she waited for Nick to retrieve his car from the long-term parking lot, Darcie called Becky. Even if she didn’t think Nick was a psycho, she decided it would be wise to let someone know she had arrived safely in Athens and was now in the hands of a stranger. Calling her parents was out of the question. Ditto for her sisters. That left Becky, who answered on the fifth ring.
“Someone had better be dying,” her friend muttered ominously, and Darcie realized it was the middle of the night in Buffalo.
“I’m not dying, just checking in,” she said. “Sorry I woke you, Becks. I forget about the time difference.”
“Darcie? Oh. Hey.” She pictured Becky struggling to a sitting position on her bed and trying to force the cobwebs from her head. “Is everything okay?”
Darcie scuffed the toe of one shoe against the pavement. “Sort of.”
“What does that mean?”
“Well, my flight arrived on time, but I’m missing half of my luggage. The good half.”
Becky had helped her pack, so she commiserated. “That stinks. On the bright side, now you have a valid excuse to buy more clothes.”
“Yeah.” Like Darcie could afford to do that. She coughed and continued. “Oh, and there’s been one other small glitch. No one from the tour company was at the airport to meet me.”
“What? That’s ridiculous. You need to report them to the Better Business Bureau or something.”
“I know. Apparently, the owner of the company is a lush.” She forced out a laugh. “Figures, right? I mean, Tad got such a good deal on this vacation there was bound to be a catch.”
Becky muttered something obscene about Tad. It wasn’t anything Darcie hadn’t heard before. Her friend had been quite vocal in her dislike of him. That had been a source of contention between the two women in the past, but no longer. She found herself wondering what Becky would make of Nick.
“I hope the rest of the trip goes smoothly,” her friend said.
Unfortunately, based on what Nick had told Darcie, she had her doubts. She told Becky as much.
“What are you going to do? Can you get a refund and hook up with a different company?”
“I don’t know.” The fine print on the package said the price was nonrefundable, but Darcie planned to try anyway. She figured she had nothing to lose. “In the meantime, I have a ride to the first hotel on the itinerary. The tour group is supposed to stay there for a couple of nights. That should give me time to see if the company is going to be able to deliver on any of its promises and, if not, make other arrangements.” At least she hoped it would.
“Good. Darcie, if you need money—”
“No. I don’t. But thanks.” Not only could Becky not afford it, but she’d also been generous enough already, letting Darcie crash at her apartment until she found a place of her own. That certainly beat moving back in with her parents, even temporarily. What thirty-year-old woman wanted to do that?
Darcie took a deep breath then and, keeping her tone nonchalant, said, “You’re going to love this. The person who agreed to drive me is this insanely gorgeous man with an accent that is to die for.”
There was a slight pause before Becky asked, “You’re taking a cab, right?”
“No. Actually, I met this man in the airport and he...offered to drive. He showed me identification,” she hastened to add. “His name is Nick Costas. He lives in Manhattan, but he’s from Athens originally.”
“Darcie, I don’t know,” Becky began, worry evident in her tone.
“What happened to, ‘Have a fling and get ur sexy back?’ Hmm?”
“Well, I didn’t actually expect you to take my advice! When do you ever listen to me? I mean, if you listened to me, you never would have given Tad the time of day, much less wasted six years of your life engaged to him.”
Point taken. Becky had told Darcie from the start that Tad was a first-class mama’s boy and would stay that way.
“Relax. I’m not having a fling. It’s only a ride to a hotel. Nothing more.” Except maybe in her fantasies.
“Okay, but call me when you get there.”
“I will.”
“Promise me, Darcie. I’m not going to be able to go back to sleep until you do.”
“I promise. I’ll call.”
She hung up just as Nick’s car pulled to the curb. Unlike the other boxy subcompacts parked nearby, it was a sleek, low-slung convertible.
“Nice car.” She tapped a finger to her lips as she studied its graceful lines. “A 1963 Porsche, right?”
He nodded slowly. “A 356 Super 90 Cabriolet, to be exact.”
“Fully restored?”
“Yes, but with original parts. And I have a certificate of authenticity from the manufacturer.”
“Ooh. That pushes up its value.”
“It does.” Nick tilted his head to the side. “How is it that you know so much about automobiles?”
Darcie chuckled at his incredulous expression. “I work for a classic car magazine. I guess I picked up a few things along the way.”
“You’re a writer.”
She frowned. Not for lack of wanting, she thought. “No. I just check the facts of articles other people write.”
“Which magazine might that be?”
“Automobile Enthusiasts Monthly. It’s relatively small and based in Buffalo. You probably haven’t heard of it.” Darcie hadn’t until Tad’s friend had offered her the job just before her engagement.
“I have a subscription. I find it very factual.” He got out of the car and stood beside her. “What else can you tell me about this particular model Porsche?”
“Well, as I recall, it was very popular in America when it first came out.”
“It still is among collectors.”
“And you’re a collector.” It made sense. A man with a Park Avenue address likely would have the disposable income to indulge his whims, even ones that ran into six figures.
But Nick was shaking his head. “I collect for others. As much as I like this automobile, I will not be buying it. It will go to whoever pays the most to possess it. It is what I do for a living.” He pulled out a business card, which he handed to her. It read, Costas Classic Auto Sales and Auctions.
“Impressive.”
“It would appear that you and I have two interests in common.”
“Two?”
“Classic cars and...” His smile could have melted a glass and made it clear what that other interest was. She smiled in return and hoped the laughter that followed came off as worldly rather than the sort fueled by giddiness and nerves.
“Let me take your bag,” he said.
The Porsche had a rear engine, meaning its trunk was in the front. When Nick opened the compartment, Darcie eyed the small space.
“Gee, maybe it’s just as well the airline lost one of my bags. I don’t think both of them would fit in here. I guess when you own one of these babies you have to travel light to travel in style.” She glanced at Nick, a question forming. “Where’s your luggage?”
