Chapter Two

“Yup, that sounds like Nik Kontarinis.” Alison resumed chopping the large zucchini, which had been grown by her husband, Pavlos, in the expansive vegetable garden that lay behind their hillside house, shaded by the olive groves Pavlos farmed and adjacent to the converted outhouses of KATS. “Don’t get me wrong; he’s not some kind of serial seducer, despite what the local gossips say. But when on the prowl, flirtatious, foreign, and female is usually his thing.”

“Ooh-kay,” Frankie responded thoughtfully as she took in Ali’s summary. Since arriving in Kathos, she’d really bonded with her mother’s childhood friend, but had learned that Ali, dark-haired, brown-eyed, and in her mid-fifties, wasn’t one to pull her punches when giving her opinion about other people. “Foreign and female—I definitely tick those two boxes.” She frowned. “But no way was I being flirtatious. Quite the opposite, actually.” She took a sip of her wine. “Not that it matters. I refused his invitation. Or rather, his assumption that I would be going out to dinner with him. He seems a bit arrogant.”

Ali turned her attention and her knife to an eggplant. “That’ll be a first. Nik getting turned down, I mean. He’s a millionaire and good-looking, and they just fall at his feet.” She sliced some more and then, her head tilted thoughtfully to one side, added, “He is something of a contradiction, though. I’ve known him for years, and I’ve always liked him very much. His line of business does mean his life is one long party, and he’s used to women throwing themselves at him, but I wouldn’t call him arrogant. Just proud, and very driven and determined. And he’s also got a heart of gold. As you saw, he volunteers for the fire service. He’s a very generous sponsor of the local food bank and the women’s shelter in Paragolis as well.”

Frankie fingered the stem of her wineglass reflectively. “I saw his generosity when he produced two hundred and fifty Euros for the dog’s treatment.”

Ali bustled about as she continued with the preparation of a moussaka for that night’s supper, nimbly avoiding Nyx, Hades, and Persephone, her three cats, who were sitting nearby on the flag-stoned floor in a patient line, hoping for tidbits to fall their way. “Nik’s always been generous. But then, he was adopted and brought up by Ian and Drusilla Brodie Stewart. They were lovely people.”

Frankie’s ears pricked up. “Adopted? By Ian Brodie Stewart, the thriller writer? I know he used to live on this island.”

“That’s right. I got friendly with him and Drusilla when I arrived here. They were very kind about introducing me to the expat community, and also to Pavlos. That was back in his builder days, when he was working on modernising their villa.” Ali stopped what she was doing and gazed dreamily out of the kitchen window.

“How old is Nik Kontarinis?” Frankie asked, picking at the bowl of grated cheese that sat before her on the kitchen table, waiting to be added to the sauce for the moussaka.

“Um…” Ali pulled herself out of her romantic recollections. “He must be… Let me see… I arrived here when Nik was about four…so thirty-four, I guess. Ian and Drusilla adopted him when he was a baby. Drusilla couldn’t have children, and when Nik was orphaned, they jumped at the chance to take him in. They went on to adopt three more boys. Dimitrios, who was also local and abandoned, I think; Sergei, who came from Russia; and poor little Marco.”

That last statement made Frankie stop nibbling at the cheese. “Why poor little Marco?”

“He disappeared at a Christmas fishing festival in Trapazakia when he was just a toddler. It was assumed he was either abducted or wandered off and had an accident.” Ali laid down her knife and reached up for the large, copper-bottomed frying pan that hung on a wall-rack. “It will be twenty years this year since he went.”

Frankie’s eyes widened as she took in Marco’s sad story. “Oh, my goodness, that’s terrible! Did they never find him?”

Ali shook her head. “Ian was a former crime reporter in London’s Fleet Street. He pulled strings with every police force in Europe, contacted Interpol, and hired private detectives. But no trace of Marco has ever been found. My theory is that he was taken by child traffickers. It happens.”

Frankie leaned back in her chair, feeling a little shocked. “Wow. That’s quite a past that Nik Kontarinis has: orphaned, adopted, and with a missing little brother.”

Ali stirred minced lamb, and then the vegetables in the frying pan. “He’s a strong man, but there’s a lot of baggage there. Buried emotion, methinks. Drusilla, his mother, died a couple of years after Marco went, apparently of a cardiac arrest, but everybody said her heart was actually broken. Nik took her loss very hard. As he did Ian’s death from a stroke nine years later.”

Frankie watched as the other woman deftly took a wide, oiled earthenware dish and added the cooked lamb and vegetables, then set about swiftly making a white sauce. This Alison poured over the mix in the dish and finished with a layer of the grated cheese, before popping the moussaka into the oven. It smelled delicious, and Frankie’s stomach started to rumble. Ali was a fantastic cook.

All the while, her brain was whirring as she thought about Nik Kontarinis’s story. It was so dramatic…and tragic. How did you deal with having your baby brother snatched from you, and never discovering what had happened to him?

Without warning, an image of Nik and his naked, glistening six-pack flashed through her mind. She bit her lip hard with frustration, struggling to banish it and the needy ache it aroused low down in her belly. She had to get a grip. It was inappropriate to think that way after what Ali had just told her about little Marco, and, anyway, she shouldn’t be interested in Nik Kontarinis or his body, for goodness’ sake! Dating, sex, men…she just wouldn’t, couldn’t, be going there right now.

“Penny for them?” Ali wiped her hands, then came over to join Frankie at the table, bringing her own glass of wine. “What’s bothering you, hun? You’re looking a little pensive. Is it Andrew again? Or maybe Nik Kontarinis?”

Frankie jumped out of her trance and quickly shook her head. “No,” she denied, but she could feel the heat of a guilty flush spreading across her cheeks. “I’ve decided I need to stop feeling bad about Andrew and Becky,” she said defiantly, noticing Ali raise her eyebrows knowingly. “I have! It’s a waste of my time and energy.” she insisted.

“But you’ve been so cut up about him and her since you arrived here,” Ali reminded her.

“I know. But I’ve got to start getting past it, letting go, haven’t I?” Frankie held up her left hand. “Look, wedding and engagement rings removed! I’m no longer Frankie McKnight; I’m Frankie Worthington again. I’ve resolved I’m going to do my best to be calm from now on whenever I’m in touch with Andrew, and patient while the divorce and financial settlement are being negotiated, even though I’m hating all the legal to-ing and fro-ing. In the meantime, I’ll begin thinking seriously about what to do with myself and my future. That’s what matters.”

“Well, good for you if you can manage it. I do hope Andrew stops arguing and realizes he must do the right thing when it comes to buying you out. It’s so disappointing that he’s getting mean about the financial split, and that the bloody English divorce laws allows him to do it. And, no doubt, he’s letting that greedy little tart Becky push him to keep as much back as possible for her benefit.”

Frankie couldn’t help a grin at Ali’s acid assessment; she had related the whole sad story of Andrew’s adultery when she’d first arrived. “We’ll have to see. To be honest, there’s a part of me that would be quite happy to walk away and not bother about the money. But I guess I’ve got to hang in there, fight my corner, and hope the court will make an equitable ruling.”

Ali looked concerned. “Don’t give in now. It’s about what’s due to you—your shares of the house you and he lived in and the business you built between you. Love, you worked so hard for all of that. Just because Andrew couldn’t keep it in his pants doesn’t mean you should get less than what you’re owed. You’ll also need some money for whatever you decide to do in the future.”

Frankie shrugged. “My lawyer has contacted Andrew’s to say we must reach an agreement in the next few weeks and proceed to court.”

“Good. I’ll keep my fingers crossed for you. And you know you can stay with us for as long as you want. We love having you.” Ali gave Frankie another shrewd look. “But, you know, something is still bothering you, I can tell. Nik Kontarinis, by any chance?”

Frankie puffed out her cheeks and exhaled. She’d discovered she couldn’t hide anything from Ali; the older lady was too sharp. “Perhaps…well, yes. When he announced this afternoon that he intended to take me out to dinner, it kind of messed with my head a bit, took me by surprise. I’m just not in the market for dating right now…and definitely not for that kind of commanding alpha-male stuff.”

“That’s a shame. You’d have a grand time with Nik. He speaks very good English, because of Ian and Drusilla. And I know he’d treat you like a princess if you’d let him take you out. Where’s the harm in having him wine and dine you, indulging in some no-strings fun? You’ve had a rough time recently, and I guarantee he’d cheer you up.”

“But you said he’s Mr. Flirtatious, Foreign, and Female. I hardly need to be a notch on his bedpost right now. That wouldn’t make me cheerful!”

“I don’t know he’d treat you like that. After all, you’re our guest, and he’s a friend of mine and Pav’s. And you’re not exactly a passing piece of skirt that he’s picked up in a bar or on the beach.”

“That makes him sound so appealing! And hypocritical as well, if he would date me but just shag other women.”

“Quite a few of us who know Nik well feel his reputation is undeserved. Sure, he’s sown some wild oats, but he just needs to find the right woman.”

Frankie rolled her eyes. “Yeah, right, and I’m the Queen of England.” She smiled warmly. “You know, it’s brilliant being here with you and Pavlos, just what I do need. I’m really appreciating your support and the opportunity to chill for a while, make plans. But it’s a no from me when it comes to Nik Kontarinis. I’m definitely a single girl for the foreseeable future.”

However, later, after dinner, while she was shutting up the animals in the shelter for the night, Ali’s words niggled at her and her memory kept straying back to Nik; while she was in the cattery, mind pictures of him stripped to the waist rolled past in an erotic, taunting slideshow. She wished they would cease. She so didn’t need it or him right now. He was not for her—too full of himself and only wanting passing flings. She had to focus on getting herself together.

She went into the kennels. Most of the dogs in the caged runs got up from their beds and ran over to her, standing on their hind legs, paws and claws hooking into the netting, tails wagging as they emitted excited barks. She checked that all were okay and had enough water for the night, then stepped back into the doorway, her hand on the doorknob. “Hey, guys, it’s time for bye-byes,” she called out, then closed the door. She should be heading for bed too. But not to dream about Nik Kontarinis. She sighed. How was it that her body was waking up, after months of being alone, and suddenly reacting to the sight of him like he was the hottest thing in the universe? She started walking towards the shelter’s exit. He was hot, she allowed. But that didn’t mean she was about to scorch herself by jumping from Andrew’s frying pan into Nik’s fire…

Seated in the cab of the fire truck, Nik hauled the small boy next to him closer and carefully lowered his fireman’s helmet onto the child’s head. Then he placed his hands on Theo’s chubby ones and guided them onto the truck’s steering wheel. “We’re going to drive the fire engine, mikro mou.” He turned it a little, pretending to drive. The child chortled with laughter and made siren noises. “Nee-nah, nee-nah!”

Outside the cab, Theo’s father looked on, nodding his appreciation. Kostas was the regular captain at the Agia Kalamaros station, a widower single father, bringing up his only son after his young wife had died a year or so ago after losing her battle with breast cancer. Nik had tried to do what he could, paying for Callista to travel to Athens for the best medical treatment, and as an honorary uncle, he always welcomed Theo here at the klimakia whenever he was on duty, knowing the four-year-old wanted to be a fireman when he grew up, just like his dad.

“Nee-nah, nee-nah!” As he continued to move the wheel for Theo with one hand, and hold up the helmet that was in danger of sliding down over the child’s eyes with his other, Nik’s thoughts wandered back to Frankie Worthington. Since yesterday, he hadn’t been able to get her out of his head. He had to see her again. She made him think of a young Grace Kelly, with her cool, sexy beauty—large blue eyes, high cheekbones, pale, clear skin, and smooth, shiny blonde hair. And that sensational slender but curvy body, which had been obvious even under an old T-shirt and jeans.

But she’d refused to go out with him. He smiled to himself. It had been more years than he cared to remember since a woman had turned him down. It was okay, though, a refreshing change—Frankie wasn’t easy or only out for a good time. He was happy to work at it; her reserve was the challenge he’d been craving.

His intention had been to check with the shelter later in the week on how the injured dog was doing. Perhaps a visit in person rather than a phone call was in order as a way of meeting Frankie again. Mulling it over, he reached across and blasted the truck’s horn, making Theo squeal with delight. Suddenly, the little boy bouncing excitedly beside him delivered a flash of inspiration. Kostas had been talking about getting a pet for Theo, and also a mascot for the fire station—the crew in Paragolis, the island’s capital, had recently acquired an Alsatian puppy as theirs. Why not adopt the rescued dog as a companion and a mascot? He sounded the horn again for Theo. He’d do anything to make this little boy happy, and if it helped him to win over Frankie Worthington, then all well and good…