Desperately Seeking Summer

by Mandy Baggot

  ‘Come!’ Theo beckoned.

  She probably would if she was given another few minutes of the shimmying on display. She swallowed again, trying to restore some sensibility, before getting to her feet.

  Walking towards him, the Greek pop got a little louder. It was happy and rousing, giving off all the ultimate holiday feelings. She started to move as she walked, hips swaying a little, letting the rhythm guide her motion.

  ‘Oh, Abby,’ Theo said, grinning. ‘You do not tell me you are a good dancer.’

  ‘You didn’t ask,’ she answered, with a coquettish edge. She moved closer to him, her feet tapping to the beat, body twisting up and down to the intoxicating vibe.

  Forty

  Theo caught hold of her then, both his hands on her hips, guiding them along with the tempo. She was so beautiful and the way she was expertly tipping her body one way then the other, so fluidly, so sensually, was hitting every erogenous area he possessed.

  She was smiling back at him as they moved together, him holding her hips, her arms moving upwards to clasp around his neck. He couldn’t remember a time when he’d felt like this. It was so unscripted. Despite the veil over his true vocation, it was him being him, for the first time in a long time. He slid his face close to hers, drawing her nearer, as the song’s pulse slowed to a sultry, passion-filled timbre.

  ‘Tell me, Abby,’ he whispered. ‘What will your new job be?’

  He felt her intake of breath, so long and slow, as if thinking hard. He said nothing, their bodies softly rolling back and forth together.

  ‘I don’t know,’ she said finally. ‘I never thought about not working there.’

  An unexpected change of plans. That wasn’t dissimilar to the position he was in. And he still didn’t know what his future held.

  ‘I came here to think,’ Abby breathed. ‘And to see my mum and my sister, but when I got here things … weren’t quite how I thought they would be.’

  ‘You think Corfu has changed?’ Theo asked.

  He felt her shake her head. ‘No, not the island. It’s the business … well … things, they could be a little better.’

  He could read between the lines. Her mother’s estate agency was no different to any other small business trying to survive in difficult times. There was so much more competition and no leeway in lean months. She was here to help her family. The sale of Villa Pappas was important to her. He closed his eyes, hating the current conflict.

  ‘We’re hoping the party will increase visibility and bring in some more customers – either buyers for properties already on our books, or sellers who want to make the most of the current upturn.’

  ‘I am sure this will work,’ he answered softly.

  ‘I hope so.’

  He felt another breath leave her, the warm exhale seeping through the thin fabric of his shirt. ‘Can I do anything to help?’

  ‘I … don’t know.’

  He raised his head then, moving to look directly at her. ‘You have everything you need? Food? Now I know I can do something with this.’

  Abby smiled. ‘Thank you, but George is helping us with that.’

  ‘Drinks maybe? I could … make cocktails for your guests.’ He had never wanted to help with anything more and he watched her pondering on his question.

  ‘Don’t you have to work?’

  ‘I have a shift at The Blue Vine but I can work around this.’ He put his hand to her face, gently cupping her jaw. ‘Let me help you, Abby.’

  She was gazing up at him now, those warm, sexy hazel eyes looking back. Normally he would not hesitate. Dancing so close, someone in his arms, it was natural to dive right in, do what nature intended, but something was holding him back. He held very still, halting his motion with the music for a moment.

  ‘OK,’ she whispered.

  ‘OK?’ he asked.

  ‘You can make cocktails,’ she elaborated.

  He swallowed. Right now, the only mixology he was interested in involved their tongues. Why was he holding off? What was he waiting for? Hadn’t he had a telling off from Stamatis about not letting moments pass you by? ‘Abby,’ he whispered.

  ‘Yes, Theo.’

  His name on her lips was enough to tip the balance. Dropping his head to hers, he captured her mouth with his, pulling her closer.

  What was happening? It felt like someone had set off fireworks and Abby was in the middle of the display, perhaps the biggest rocket of them all. Theo was kissing her. She was kissing Theo and it was a rush like no other she had experienced. His velour tongue was urging hers into an unknown, but very pleasant tempo and as each scintillating second passed she found herself wanting to get nearer to him, inside those linen trousers and what lay beneath. God, he tasted of all things nice! Lemon and … spice and … man flesh. Man flesh so moist and warm it was like feasting on a just-prepared peach flan … only sexier … with less pastry. This was one time where less pastry was definitely a good thing.

  She broke away to breathe. ‘Theo—’

  He caught her mouth with his again, those full, gorgeous, ripe lips encouraging hers to part and let him in for more delicious making out. His hands were on her bare skin, fingers tracing her shoulders, slipping under the straps of her dress … and she didn’t feel the need to tell him to stop because … she didn’t want him to stop.

  ‘Theo!’

  Abby fell away from him, startled by the interjection of a third-party voice. Was that Spyridoula Pappas?

  ‘Abby?!’

  Her mouth dropped open then, as she looked to the owner of the other voice who had called her name. ‘Mum?’ She didn’t know why she had felt the need to clarify Jackie’s identity except that being caught with your tongue down the throat of the gardener of the property you were trying to sell in front of the client’s sister, probably wasn’t the most professional thing she had been involved in. And Jackie thought she was still in a relationship with Darrell …

  ‘We were just having some dinner,’ Theo informed calmly. ‘Would you like a glass of wine?’

  ‘I have been calling your mobile phone,’ Spyridoula stated, strutting towards the table, bracelets jingling together as she began to gather up their plates. ‘The people who came to see the villa before. They want to see it again. Tonight. In thirty minutes. They are in Kassiopi right now. Leon is fetching them.’ She paused before adding. ‘After he has cleaned that skip of a taxi.’

  ‘Abby, what’s going on?’ Her mum looked a little like she was in shock. The Greek ‘happy’ music was still playing but Jackie’s expression was rather like a Holby City extra who’d been given bad news.

  ‘Nothing’s going on,’ Abby said. ‘I just …’ What was she going to say to this? What was going on? She’d kissed a rather gorgeous, sexy man and she enjoyed his company – and Greek dips – apart from that she didn’t know. ‘Shall I help you tidy up? Dress the house?’

  ‘I asked you a question, Abby,’ Jackie stated, a little angrily.

  Abby closed her eyes momentarily, then took a breath and made a move for the table. ‘I’ll pick up these plates, shall I? And wash up.’

  ‘Abby! I’m not blind. I saw what was going on,’ Jackie stated a little too loudly. ‘What about you and Darrell?!’

  She stopped walking, not needing to look up to know that both Theo and Spyridoula would be looking at her. There was only one way out of this and it was long overdue. She raised her head and turned back to face her mum.

  ‘There is no me and Darrell, Mum,’ Abby said. ‘Not any more.’ She took a breath. ‘Not for almost four weeks.’

  ‘What?’ Jackie couldn’t have looked more crestfallen. Her stance was wavering. Abby wondered if she should guide her to a chair. Instead, she walked towards her and took hold of her hands.

  ‘I’m sorry I didn’t tell you when I first got here, like with my job, but you told me about the business and I went into prioritising mode. You and Melody and the business seemed to be more important than anything I had going on in my life, and
it gave me something else to think about when I didn’t want to think about Darrell.’

  A chink of a bowl both distracted her and reminded her that they weren’t alone. That the man who had seemed like he wanted to strip her was in fact listening to all this along with the woman who was employing them to sell the villa.

  ‘What happened?’ Jackie asked, eyes welling up with tears.

  ‘Mum, please,’ Abby begged. ‘Can we do this later? At home? Not here when clients are due and there’s tidying to do?’

  ‘Please,’ Spyridoula called with a hint of sarcasm. ‘Do not mind us. What use is a nephew if he cannot clear up the great, big mess he has created?’

  ‘What?!’ Both Abby and Jackie had said the word together but it was Abby’s heart that hit her chest wall like a gymnast landing heavily on a crash mat. Her nephew. Theo was Spyridoula’s nephew.

  Theo dropped the plates back to the table and moved towards Abby. This was not how he had wanted his identity to come out. He had just needed a little more time. A few more dates of being just Theo, not Theo Pappas and all the family responsibility that went with that. He hadn’t really lied. He hadn’t put on a persona. He had just stripped things back a bit.

  ‘Abby,’ he said as her neared her. ‘Let me explain.’

  He could see her dynamic had changed. Gone was the fluid, loosened-up, smiling Abby who had danced with him to the happy music. Barriers were in place.

  ‘You told me you were the gardener,’ she whispered.

  ‘I know,’ he said. ‘I never intended to do that. It was stupid and—’

  ‘You tell her you are the gardener?’ Spyridoula laughed out loud. ‘Theo does not know one end of an olive from the other. Unless he is making the Dirty Martini.’

  ‘Abby, please, let me explain.’ He took hold of her hands then, squeezing them tightly. ‘I did not really lie. I only did not say … who I was related to.’ He couldn’t have sounded more pathetic.

  For a second, he felt a little hope. She hadn’t wrenched herself away, was holding on to him. But her eyes refused to meet his. She shook her head. ‘I have to help my mum secure this sale.’

  ‘A text from Leon,’ Spyridoula announced. ‘He is almost leaving to pick them up.’ She clapped her hands. ‘Everybody working together now, parakalo.’

  Forty-one

  Desperately Seeking

  ‘But him being a Pappas means he’s rich,’ Melody stated. ‘Did he look at your hair?’

  It was the morning after the night before and Abby had a vicious headache that wasn’t being calmed by anything containing aspirin, especially not the ancient, out-of-date-been-around-every-handbag-Jackie-ever-owned packet her mum had produced. They still hadn’t got Paul and Lynn to commit to buy Villa Pappas, she had had to go into detail about breaking up with Darrell with her mum as soon as they had got home, and she had left a beaten-looking Theo being verbally horsewhipped by Spyridoula about hanging clothes to dry on the master bedroom’s balcony. Last night she had been mentally exhausted; the best date she’d ever had cut short, blighted by the arrival of her mum; the fallout over Darrell and some quite important misinformation that had once again rocked her faith not only in the male population but in herself. Where was her good judgement and her Prior Preparation Prevents Poor Performance life hack when she needed it?

  ‘Did he look at her hair?’ Jackie queried, struggling with a guy rope on their supposedly easy-to-put-together-pop-up gazebo. ‘Listen, I know with regard to Igor and Valentin the lines got a little blurry, but a man’s attention to your tresses shouldn’t be what you judge him on, Melody. Respect and good conversation are so much more important.’

  ‘Not when you’ve spent a fortune on imported products and no one’s noticed!’

  ‘He made a beautiful dinner,’ Abby said wistfully. Although, if she was honest, she could still taste more of Theo himself than the feast he had made.

  ‘He’s probably used to eating out in fine restaurants, being super-mega-loaded.’

  ‘Melody,’ Jackie said, using warning tones.

  Abby stood up from her seat at the table where she was helping Melody with sorting raffle tickets and sign-up lists, moving to help her mum with the gazebo. It was another beautifully warm day, the harbour area already alive with tourists. Small boats for hire had been chugging around in the water for the past few hours, cool boxes and six packs of water bottles being loaded, hat-wearing holidaymakers slicked up with sun cream getting aboard. And everything seemed to be under control for the party, even Cardboard Tom had arrived. The lack of panicking was concerning. Nothing involving the Dolans usually ever happened without some degree of flapping and perspiration.

  ‘Well,’ Melody continued. ‘Rich blokes don’t go working at bars or pretending to be gardeners for no reason. Maybe he’s on the run.’ She nodded at her ‘brilliant’ suggestion. ‘You know, one of those white-collar crimes—’

  ‘You’ve been watching too much Ozark,’ Jackie said. ‘Although, I have to admit, Jason Bateman could launder anything of mine any day of the week.’

  ‘I’m just saying, either he’s on the run, or he’s left the business under a cloud, or maybe … maybe his millionaire father hasn’t really got a million any more. Yes!’ Melody sucked in a confident breath. ‘We know from experience how tight things have been for small businesses here in Greece. Perhaps it’s the same for larger firms too.’

  ‘Ssh!’ Jackie shushed. ‘You know the village has more ears than a cornfield. And remember that’s Spyridoula’s brother you’re talking about – the woman who recommended us to him for selling the highest-priced villa we have on our books.’

  ‘And why’s he having to sell it, huh? Ask yourself that.’ Melody pointed a finger into the air at nothing in particular. ‘But this could have an upside. Maybe Theo has run off with a business bank account full of money, off-shored it to the Caymans or wherever it is tycoons hide money these days, and he’s hiding out in the villa.’

  ‘There’s two issues with that scenario,’ Jackie began. ‘One, he isn’t hiding, Spyridoula, his aunt, knows he’s here. And he’s working in a bar.’

  ‘His father’s business is going well. They’ve just won a big multi-million-euro contract,’ Abby said, tugging on the rope, making sure it was secure enough to withstand gale force winds should Corfu turn into Hurricane Central.

  ‘How do you know that?’ Melody asked.

  ‘I googled Dinis Pappas,’ she admitted.

  ‘Could you google “Dinis Pappas married?”. And was there a photo?’ Melody turned towards Jackie. ‘If Abby marries the son, you could marry the dad and all our financial woes will be over. Hang on, wait. Abs, you’d have to marry Theo first otherwise he’d kind of be your step-brother – but that’s allowed, right?’

  ‘Dinis Pappas is widowed,’ Abby said. ‘At least, that’s what Theo told me.’ She still wasn’t sure how much of what he had said was true. How could she trust someone who had pretended to be something he wasn’t? Or was she being harsh? After all, hadn’t she hidden her lack of employment and break-up from her family for as long as she could? Wasn’t that, in effect, exactly the same thing?

  ‘For how long?’ Melody quizzed. ‘Recently? Too recent for Mum to give it a go? We’ve got his email address, right? I’m thinking a little introductory electronic letter … have you still got that lovely photo I took with Canal D’amour in the background and the flower in your hair? You could attach that as part of the email tail. Like a business Tinder. Bin-der!’ Melody laughed. ‘Or is that too trashy?’

  ‘I thought, after the Russians, we’d decided to focus on fixing what we’ve got with hard work and determination, rather than degrading ourselves by going after questionable men.’ said Jackie.

  ‘I wouldn’t call Dinis Pappas questionable,’ Melody said.

  ‘What would you call him then?’ Jackie asked.

  ‘I’m hoping “Daddy”.’

  Abby gave the last rope a hefty tug before her attention was drawn to
the road, the noise of a large vehicle approaching breaking the near-tranquillity of the Greek radio playing from one of the tourist shops and the soft roll of the waves.

  ‘What’s that?’ Melody asked, getting up from her seat and joining Abby on the edge of Desperately Seeking’s terrace area. ‘It sounds a lot bigger than a delivery truck.’

  Abby shielded her eyes from the sun as she looked down the road. It was a coach. There was nothing unusual about coaches, bearing in mind convoys of them relayed tourists from the airport every season, except the road through San Stefanos harbour was small, too small for a vehicle like that.

  ‘It’s a coach,’ Abby said.

  ‘Don’t be stupid,’ Melody replied. ‘You can’t get a coach down here. They struggle with the delivery vans. Spiros has to do an eighty-five-point turn to get back round.’

  ‘It’s definitely a coach.’

  ‘Going where, exactly?’

  ‘Kalimera, ladies!’

  Aleko waved a hand as he sauntered past Desperately Seeking. He was dressed in white trousers, a bright turquoise Hawaiian shirt festooned with white palm trees and a straw fedora on his head. He stopped, waving both hands as if beckoning the oncoming single decker towards him.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Melody left the terrace for the road. ‘Is that coach something to do with you?’

  ‘You know I have a party, yes?’

  ‘Yes, we bloody know,’ Melody snapped. ‘You organised it the same day as ours in a deliberate, rather pathetic attempt at sabotage!’

  Aleko laughed. ‘This is not true, Melody.’

  ‘I don’t believe you.’

  ‘Aleko,’ Abby interrupted. ‘Where is the coach going? Because we were going to set up a table just in front of the office here with speakers on, to play some music while we give out leaflets.’

  ‘Outside the office,’ Aleko stated, turning to look at Abby, his expression a little like she had just announced Kit-Kats were now only going to be made one finger.

  ‘Just outside,’ Abby added, the roar of the coach engine getting louder.