by Sandy Barker
He smiled and whispered, ‘Sarah, you take my breath away.’
My, my, the silver fox had a silver tongue.
From anyone else it would have sounded cheesy, but believe me, he pulled it off. Talk about taking someone’s breath away! Mine caught in my throat. And was that stirring in my loins? Without thinking, I reached for my earlobe, and gently caressed it. And as soon as I realised I was doing it, I stopped. I’ve read enough romance novels to know exactly what signal a fondled earlobe sends.
When I regained my composure – and we are only talking microseconds here – I replied the way I had been taught to respond to a compliment. I said, ‘Thank you.’
He immediately countered my thank you with, ‘But men have told you that many times before.’
Was he asking me or telling me? If he was telling me, he was wrong. And I’m not fishing for compliments, here. I know I am reasonably attractive, but I certainly don’t look like a Victoria Secret’s model – or any kind of model for that matter. Let’s just say that Gisele Bündchen’s job is safe from me.
I hadn’t responded to his comment – my ability to banter was taking a beating. ‘Not really, no.’ Wow! Good retort, Sarah. He seemed amused, and not in the charming, ‘I’m on your side’ way – more like in the, ‘you’re cute, little one’ way. I sipped on my drink and chewed my straw a little.
Gary chose that moment to ask James a question. I wondered if he was saving me, or just seeking out interesting conversation. Regardless, I took the opportunity to talk to Gerry. I needed a breather from the silver fox.
‘Hey, Ger.’
‘Hey, Sar.’
‘So, how’s this trip going?’
She shook the ice in her drink and smiled at me. ‘Really good, don’t you think?’
‘Yeah, but I meant, how is it going?’ I looked over her shoulder at Duncan, who was chatting with Marie and Hannah. ‘Isn’t it hard being in a long-distance relationship?’ It was a big question, but I had wanted to ask her since I’d met her and there had never really been a good time. She and Duncan lived in different places and only saw each other occasionally, and they seemed great together, but I wanted to know if it was for real. It mattered to me, because I liked them together. Okay, and because I wondered if a long-distance relationship could really work.
‘How do you mean?’ she replied. Maybe there was a translation issue; I was going to have to spell it out.
‘I mean, how does it work with you two living so far apart?’
She looked thoughtful, as though she was phrasing the ideal response in her head. ‘It is hard sometimes, but we make it work because we want to be together, and for now, we can’t be in the same place – to live.’
I’d been holding my breath waiting for her answer and let it out. ‘That’s good,’ I replied.
She nodded. ‘Yes. You know, when I first met him in the person …’ I didn’t correct her misuse of the idiom; I knew what she meant ‘… I knew my search was finished. A person can spend forever looking for someone who makes their heart sing. Maybe that person is not someone close by. Maybe you must look far away for that person. Even across the world. With the phone calls, and Skype, and emails, Duncan he always made my heart sing from the beginning.’ I was mesmerised by her, the beautiful expression on her face while she talked about the man she loved. ‘And that is well worth crossing an ocean for – many times. So, esto es maravilloso. I am very happy.’
I grabbed her hand and squeezed it. She leaned over and kissed my cheek. God, I adored this woman – no wonder Duncan did too. She was beautiful and smart and funny and so incredibly loving. ‘And when my studies finish, then we find one place to live.’
‘When is that?’
‘Next year.’
I smiled. I had no doubt they’d make it to the following year.
She whispered conspiratorially, ‘And what about you, Miss Sarah?’
‘Me?’
‘You seem to have two suitors now, yes?’
‘No!’ I whispered emphatically. Methinks I doth protest too much! Gerry obviously thought so too, and she gave me a knowing smile. She continued our conversation at a discreet volume. ‘Yes. Two suitors. Josh is behaving like a baby, watching you with the handsome man.’
‘He is handsome, isn’t he?’ I really wanted a second opinion. There had to be a reason I’d reacted so viscerally to the silver fox.
‘Oh, yes, very. And he seems to be taken with you too, Sarah. You have to make a choice, yes?’
‘Do I?’
‘I think yes, you do. Josh, he would like to be your boyfriend – for the trip, maybe longer. I think James, he would like to be your lover – for tonight, maybe longer.’ She raised her eyebrows at me, and the more she spoke, the more panicked I felt. Gerry’s take on things made it clear that the whole situation was just as messed up as I thought it was.
So, what did I want? I could turn down the man for the boy, but would the boy want me after all? Maybe I only wanted a holiday fling, a juicy story to dine out on when I got home. I’d sworn off men indefinitely, and now I wanted two at the same time! Well, not at the same time, obviously. I wasn’t planning a cross-Atlantic threesome. Gerry was looking at me with an odd expression on her face. Concern? Horror? Pity?
‘Crap on toast,’ I muttered under my breath.
‘I don’t think I know this expression.’ She was humouring me. I shook my head vigorously, as though clarity was just a little head jiggle away.
‘What do you think, Sarah?’ I heard from across the table. Oh bugger. Gary chose that exact moment to draw me into his conversation with the silver fox. Gerry patted my leg gently and turned back to Duncan. I was on my own. Wonderful.
‘About what, Gary?’ I tried to look interested. Scratch that – I was trying to look interesting.
‘We’re talking about living the semi-retired life – travelling, meeting new people, only working when you want to – or need to – and only then for yourself. Doesn’t that sound ideal?’
‘Actually, it sounds incredible.’ I turned towards James. ‘Is that what you’re doing? You work when you want to, travel the rest of the time?’ Maybe Josh was right, after all – perhaps it was the perfect lifestyle.
‘Yes, of sorts. Sometimes I get to do both – like this trip. It is both business and pleasure.’
‘What do you do, James? When you want to work, that is.’ I could sense the tables turning as I waited for his response. And the gin was finally kicking in! I had a nice warm feeling flowing through my veins, and a little boost of confidence came with it.
‘I’m in art,’ he said. Okay, that was extremely vague. I looked at him expectantly and waited for him to elaborate. ‘I consult on works of art – for Sotheby’s, other auction houses, some galleries.’ I was impressed so, of course, I tried not to show it.
‘Have you always been “in art”, as you say?’
‘For about twenty years now, but not always, no. I worked in finance through my twenties, and when I made enough to start collecting, I invested in some pieces I liked. Eventually, a few years down the track, I realised I was passionate about the work I was collecting – particularly that of up-and-coming artists. So, when I was in my early thirties I took a leap of faith, quit my job and started apprenticing, I guess you’d call it, with an art dealer in New York. I studied, I travelled, I worked my way up – it’s as much about connections as it is about knowing the work and having a good eye – and by the time I was forty, I hung out my own shingle. That’s about it.’
Dozens of thoughts buzzed around my head. From what he’d said, he was in his early fifties. He looked good – really good – and I hadn’t pegged him for more than forty-five. At fifty-something, he was at least fifteen years older than me, and I wasn’t sure how I felt about the age difference. He hadn’t mentioned a wife, or kids, or anyone else connected to him. And I still had no idea what sort of art he was into. Even though I wanted to know about the possibility of a wife – or ex-wife – and if there
were some kids out there somewhere, I decided not to lead with that.
‘You haven’t said what kind of art you collect – or consult on.’
‘I focus mostly on contemporary artists – the up-and-comers, as I said. I made some smart investments early on, took a chance or two on artists whose work I liked, and a few of those investments paid off.’
Duncan, who must have been listening, interjected. ‘He’s being modest. James is considered one of the best in his field.’ Everyone at the table was now listening. Looking at James, his face gave nothing away. ‘It’s true. He consults all over the world. If he discovers a new artist, they’re almost guaranteed success on his name alone.’ Wowser.
James waved off Duncan’s words. ‘Okay, Duncan. That’s enough about that.’
The rest of the table went back to their respective conversations. I turned to Gary. ‘So, to answer your question from earlier, yes. I think it does sound like a good way to go through life.’ I picked up my drink and held it aloft. ‘To doing what you love.’
Gary and James clinked glasses with mine, and we all took a sip. Marie nudged Gary and whispered something in his ear. He laughed aloud and whispered something back.
I had the silver fox to myself again – or did he have me?
‘I hope this doesn’t come off as completely trite, but your work sounds really interesting.’
‘Why would it sound trite?’
‘Because you have one of those jobs where you must get told that all the time.’
‘I do, but I also like that you think so. And you’re so right about doing what you love – it makes life immensely enjoyable.’
‘And what about someone to share it with? Does that matter too?’ Geez, maybe hold back a little, Sarah.
The amused glimmer reappeared in his eyes. Well, what did he expect? He was hitting on me – although, with what intention I couldn’t divine. I wanted to know if he was attached, and if he wasn’t, how would I fit into his globe-trotting life?
‘Are you asking me if there is someone?’
‘It’s more of a general question about how another person fits into – or would fit into – all of this.’ I waved my hand around, as though to indicate life, the world – possibly even the universe and everything. I caught the pointedness in my voice too late. I’d already said what I said, and I couldn’t take it back. He seemed to be considering his words.
I was certain that I’d blown it.
‘Sarah, there is no one. Not now. There was, quite a while ago, but she was not as taken with the lifestyle as I am, so she left. Now it is only me. And I like to think that, yes, I am leaving room for someone to be part of all of this.’
I hadn’t blown it.
He took a sip of his drink and looked out at the marina, perhaps intentionally giving me a moment to digest what he’d said. He was talking about more than a holiday romance, and it frightened me a little. A lot, really. The silver fox was a grown-up, and even this short conversation with him made me feel girlish – and not in a good way. He was the real deal. And the real deal was interested in me. For real.
I looked across at Josh; he was talking with Hannah and laughing about something. I immediately felt a twinge of jealousy I had no right – and probably no reason – to feel.
The boy and the man. What to do?
But only one of them was alluding to something more than a flirtation – more than a sexual encounter and a good story to dine out on when I got home.
A waft of delicious, masculine scent enveloped me. James’s mouth was next to my ear. ‘I want you to come with me later. There’s something I want to show you.’
‘What?’ I whispered, both nervous and excited.
‘Are you asking me to repeat myself – or are you asking what it is that I want to show you?’
‘Well, I heard you, so let’s go with the latter.’ My banter was fantastic.
‘I am meeting up with an old friend, and he’s introducing me to this artist I’ve come to see – I want you to see his work.’
‘Oh.’
‘You sound disappointed.’
‘No, no, not at all.’
‘Did you think I meant …’
‘No, of course not.’ I was doing a poor job of hiding that I thought he was inviting me back to his place, and that I was disappointed he wasn’t.
He brushed his lips over my ear – which I felt to my very toes – and said, ‘Well, I do want to make love to you. Of course, I do – but first I want to show you some incredible art. Will you come?’
I don’t mean to sound crass, but I could have come at the sound of his voice in my ear. Okay, that was crass – sorry. But I was absolutely going with him.
Chapter Ten
‘Sarah, what are you doing?’ Josh. He looked hurt.
‘What do you mean?’ Playing dumb.
‘You’re really going off with this guy?’
‘We’re going to meet up with a friend of his – and a new client – an artist.’ I tried to make it sound as innocuous as possible.
‘But—’ He stopped short, a pained expression in his eyes.
‘What, Josh?’ I looked at him intensely. ‘What?’ I could tell he didn’t want me to leave with the silver fox, but would he say it? Would he finally articulate how he felt about me? I realised I was clenching my fists as I waited for his response.
‘I just …’ I was willing him to say something – anything – that would make me want to stay. I had only known him a few days, but I cared about him. I was attracted to him, and maybe I wanted to be with him after the trip. But not if he was going to pout like a little boy, and not if he wouldn’t say he wanted me too. I searched his eyes for what I hoped – and sort of feared – was there. God, he has beautiful eyes.
‘Never mind.’ A weak smile pulled at his lips for a heartbeat, then disappeared. ‘Have a good night.’
Then he walked straight past the others towards the marina. I waved to the rest of the group, not stopping to wonder what they were thinking, and walked over to James. I was excited about spending more time with him, but a shitty feeling had made itself at home in my heart.
Here I was, thousands of miles from home, not having expected to meet anyone – not wanting to meet anyone – and wouldn’t you know it? I had two suitors – Gerry was right – and they couldn’t have been more different.
I gave my attention to the one I’d chosen to spend the rest of the evening with.
‘Everything all right?’ He looked genuinely concerned.
I flashed a million-watt smile, even if on the inside I felt about seventy watts. ‘Absolutely. Let’s go.’ He didn’t seem wholly convinced, but didn’t press me for a further explanation. He started walking and I fell into step beside him.
‘So, tell me about this new artist we’re meeting.’
‘In broad strokes, he pays homage to ancient Cycladic art. You’ve probably seen it depicted on urns and other objects, but he works on canvas. So, it’s a modern take on an ancient art form. It’s quite innovative, and at the same time, there’s something classical about it.’
‘Do you only work with artists whose work you like, or are you able to step back and say, ‘This isn’t to my taste, but the art world will embrace it’?’
‘Great question. It’s both, actually. Sometimes I pursue an artist – or I take them on – purely because they’re someone I want to collect personally. Other times, I can appreciate the work, even if it doesn’t move me.’
‘I can see how both perspectives could work for you. You must have an extensive collection by now.’
‘I’ll say this, it’s a carefully curated collection.’
‘So, huge and worth a lot of money?’ I was being cheeky. I must have felt more comfortable with him. He smiled. Maybe cheeky was his thing.
‘When you put me on the spot like that, what can I say?’ I looked at him expectantly. ‘Okay, yes, huge and worth a lot of money.’
We both broke into laughter, enjoying the joke betw
een us. ‘So where is it all?’
‘I have quite a few pieces shared amongst my homes, some on the yacht, a few pieces on loan to galleries in New York and in Europe, and the rest is in storage.’
I was stuck on the first part of what he said. ‘Homes?’
He nodded, but didn’t say more. Was he embarrassed? Humble? I liked that he didn’t want to brag about having homes – plural – but I’d want to know more at some point. We walked in silence for a while, and I mulled over what I knew about him. It would be an exciting life if I ended up attached to the silver fox.
And if I did end up with him, the rest of the evening was a great start to our life together. We went to his friend’s house, which was a steep uphill walk from the bar, but well worth the climb. It was one of those homes that only the truly rich have, a modern take on the traditional whitewashed boxes that are ubiquitous in Greece.
The house had sharp edges and clean lines, which contrasted starkly with the craggy rock it clung to. It was long and narrow, with vast windows that overlooked the town and marina below. The living room opened onto a patio with a lone olive tree planted in the middle of it, and a lap pool ran the length of the house. Inside, we sat on low-slung white leather couches, and sipped Metaxa Private Reserve from ornate brandy glasses.
James’s friend, Armando, was charming and welcoming, and his good humour and Spanish accent put me at ease immediately. I love Spanish people. Every Spaniard I have ever met – and that is quite a few – dresses well, enjoys the good things in life, and knows how to have a good time. Armando was true to the stereotype. I got the sense he and James had known each other for a lot of years. They had a kind of shorthand between them, and there was genuine affection when Armando teased James about me.
The artist was less charming, but that may have been because his English was limited and he didn’t really have anything to say to me. He stuck to Greek most of the time, which Armando translated for James and me. Well, for James. It was his meeting. I tried to be unobtrusive.