Her Greek Doctor's Proposal

by Robin Gianna

  “Interesting. How long, do you think?”

  He stopped scanning the site to look at her with rapt attention in his beautiful eyes, and a dazzling smile that momentarily short-circuited her brain. What had she been talking about, exactly? “How long what?”

  “How many centuries did the pilgrims come to stay here?”

  “Oh.” The man probably thought she was dense. “About five hundred years, we think. Amazing that people came here to consult the oracle and worship Apollo all that time.”

  “Did the small earthquake we had a couple weeks ago damage anything?”

  That earthquake had scared everyone, but especially Laurel. When the earth had rumbled around them, her heart had about stopped as the vision of how she’d been told her parents had died had surged to the forefront of her mind. The quake had lasted only a few minutes, but her insides had shaken for hours.

  “Some rocks and earth loosened and fell into the pits, but it wasn’t too bad, thankfully.”

  “That’s good.” He seemed to be studying her and she wondered what her expression was, quickly giving him a smile to banish whatever might be there. “Do you have any photos of the things you’ve found?”

  “We do. A number of tools and potsherds have been reassembled and I have pictures in a binder in that box. This section here,” she said, showing him a large, cordoned-off rectangle, “is where several inscribed stones were found that are similar to the ones at the Temple of Apollo.” And one of those stones was etched with the cryptic words that had convinced her mom and dad they’d find the priceless artifact Laurel was still looking for. That part had to be kept secret from most people, but she could show him the rest.

  She pulled the reference binder from the supply box and flipped through it to show him a few of the best photos. They stood close together, the hair on his muscular forearm tickling her skin, his thick shoulder nudging hers, his head angled close enough to nearly skim his cheek against her temple. He smelled so wonderful, like aftershave and hunky man, that she found herself breathing him in. So enjoying his interested attention, she suddenly realized she’d gone on way too long.

  “Sorry.” She closed the book, feeling her face flush yet again, and not just from the blasting heat on the mountain. “I get a little overexcited sometimes.”

  “No. I’m fascinated.” There was something about his low tone and the way he was looking at her with a kind of glint in the dark depths of his eyes that had her wondering if he meant something other than the dig. That thought, along with how close he still stood to her, kicked her heart into a faster rhythm and made her short of breath, which she knew was absurd. But surely there wasn’t a woman alive who wouldn’t swoon at least a little over Andros Drakoulias.

  “My sisters tell me that when I talk about my work, I need to remember to look for eyes glazing over when I go on and on. Sorry.”

  “Had you been looking, you’d have seen my eyes were most attentive. And you should never apologize for talking about something you love.”

  The deep rumble of his voice, the warmth in it, seemed to slip inside her, and for a long moment they just looked at one another, standing only inches apart, before Laurel managed to snap out of whatever trance he’d sent her into. She sucked in a mind-clearing breath and turned to shove the binder back into its box.

  “You’ve hurt yourself.” His strong arm came around her side, brushing against her as he reached for her hand. His head dipped close to hers again as he turned her palm upward, his fingers gently tugging loose the tape and bandage to expose the darn gash that had started bleeding again.

  “It’s nothing.” She swiped at the trickle of blood, trying to tug her hand from his, but he held it tight. “I cut it on a potsherd. I’ll bandage it up better when I’m done for the day.”

  “When was your last tetanus shot?”

  “Just before I came here, Dr. Drakoulias. Cuts and scrapes are one of the hazards of this job.”

  “I know. Last summer, I had to treat one of the workers on this dig for sepsis.” His gaze pinned hers, his former warmth replaced by a stern, no-nonsense look. “When you come to see the Wagners, I’ll clean and bandage it for you.”

  She opened her mouth to assure him she could take care of it just fine, but the words died on her tongue. The wide palm that held hers was firm yet gentle, and something about his authoritative expression told her any protest would fall on deaf ears. Part of her didn’t want to protest, anyway. She realized, ridiculously, that it felt…nice to have someone want to take care of it for her. Probably because, for a long time, she’d been the nurse, cook, decision maker and overall helper for her sisters, without a soul to assist with all their challenges. Or, except for Tom and Mel, her own.

  She reminded herself it wasn’t as if there were anything personal about it, the man was just doing his job. “Not necessary. I have everything I need to clean and bandage it at my hotel.”

  “Necessary.” His eyes still on hers, he slowly released her hand. “I’ll see you at the clinic at, say, six o’clock?”

  It was loud and clear she’d be in for an argument if she refused, and what sane woman would anyway? “Thank you. I’ll be there.”

  The warmth of his palm lingered along with a little flutter of her heart as she watched him steadily stride back down the path, and she shook her head at herself. Mooning after the man was ridiculous, supersexy or not, since the dig was over in a matter of weeks and every second of her focus had to be on what she’d come here to accomplish.

  She was already so late getting her career started. By the time her parents were her age, their accomplishments had been featured in numerous archaeological magazines. She could still hear them pointing out how they’d finished their PhDs in just four years, chiding their oldest about her schoolwork and GPA, about how important it was to be a role model to her sisters. Doubtless they would be disappointed in her if they were still alive. She dropped to her knees to get digging again.

  The best way, the only way, she could begin to catch up, keep their memory alive, and make them proud, was by doing whatever she could to finish their work then finally get going on her own.

  CHAPTER TWO

  HOURS LATER LAUREL was finally able to shower off the film of dirt that clung to every bit of exposed skin, before studying the cut on her hand. It was less than an inch long, but deeper than she’d realized, which was probably why it kept opening up and bleeding. She washed it out with peroxide and knew that it wouldn’t be a bad idea to have Andros Drakoulias make sure it was clean. Which of course had nothing to do with liking the feel of her hand in his.

  The feeble hair dryer in the old, rambling Delphi hotel that the excavation team had rented rooms in for the summer blew about as much air as she would trying to cool a bowl of soup. The impact on the dampness of her long blond hair was practically nil, and she had to wonder why she’d decided to dry it anyway, when she usually just pulled it back.

  She shook her head as she wrapped an elastic around her ponytail. Who was she kidding? She knew the reason, which was a certain megahunky Greek doctor her vain side wanted to look good for.

  She threw on a sundress, swiped on a gloss of lipstick, and headed out of the door. Already perspiring again from the shimmering heat, she slipped inside the group’s equally hot rented sedan. She nosed the car down the winding road out of Delphi, and, before she turned onto the highway, paused for a moment to take in the incredible view.

  On every horizon, partly sheer cliffs scattered with pines met tumbles of boulders that looked as though they’d been broken apart then glued back together by some giant hand, or perhaps the gods and goddesses of Greek lore. The mountains cradled the valley below, filled with the distinctive silvery-gray leaves of an endless, undulating sea of olive trees that went on as far as she could see. Where the valley ended, the trees seemed to flow right into the Gulf of Corinth, the water such an incredible azure blue that, every time she saw it, she felt amazed all over again. And beyond that azure sea, anot
her range of mountains met the sky that today was equally blue, but at times reflected an ethereal beauty when mistiness embraced the entire scene.

  Just looking at it filled her with a reassuring sense of tranquility, the same way walking the ancient Delphi ruins did, hearing the voices of the past. Before she left, she’d take her camera on one last hike of this historic place that still felt so untamed. To remember it by.

  With a last, lingering look, she turned onto the highway, her thoughts turning to Tom and Melanie. A bead of sweat slid down her spine as she wondered how they would be feeling when she saw them. Surely they’d have improved by now, since they’d been on antibiotics for hours.

  For the first time all day, she let the niggle of worry she’d pushed aside grab hold and squeeze. After her parents had died, Mel and Tom had wrapped their arms around her as if she’d become their surrogate daughter. Advised her on grad school and now her PhD program. Helped set her up at digs close to home so she could still care for her sisters. Got her here as a paid assistant to work on her parents’ project and her dissertation.

  They were such special people. What if they were seriously ill?

  No. Borrowing trouble was a sure way to have trouble take over, as her dad used to say. She’d had to be in charge at home whenever her parents were gone on digs, and full-time after they died. That had taught her a lot about leadership, and it was time to lead, not fret.

  She had to get up to speed on what Tom’s crew was supposed to be doing in the caves to make sure it happened. With so little time left on the dig schedule, not a single hour could be wasted by worrying. She knew Tom and Mel would agree, and that her parents would have too.

  The sign for Kastorini was in both Greek and English, thank goodness. Laurel turned off the highway, concentrating on driving the steeply curving road that sported the occasional rock that had rolled down from the mountainside. And the term “hairpin curve”? Now she knew exactly what that meant.

  If she hadn’t already been sweating from the heat, this crazy trek would have done it. The road finally flattened and swooped toward a thick stone archway flanked by high, obviously ancient walls, and passing through it was like entering a different world. One minute she was driving with the mountain soaring on one side and dropping off on the other, the next she was surrounded by stone and stucco buildings sporting terracotta rooftops and draped with vines and magenta bougainvillea. Cheerful pots of flowers lined balconies and sat by inviting front doors. Farther down the narrow, cobbled street, men with small cups of coffee relaxed on patios in front of several tavernas, engaged in lively conversation as they watched her drive by.

  The utter charm of the place made Laurel smile. And as Andros had promised, she easily spotted the ancient-looking clock tower and found the medical clinic with a few bona fide parking spaces right in front of it.

  The building looked as old as the rest of Kastorini, and she wasn’t sure what to expect when she went inside. A small, fairly modern-looking waiting room was currently empty, but within moments a young woman appeared.

  “May I help you?” she asked.

  The fact that, right away, the woman spoke English instead of Greek, proved Laurel’s foreignness was more than obvious, though she’d accepted months ago that she didn’t exactly blend in as a local.

  “Hello. I’m Laurel Evans, working with the Wagners. I believe they’re patients here? Dr. Drakoulias told me I could come see them.”

  “Ah, yes.” Her pleasant smile faded to seriousness. “He is with a patient right now and wanted to talk to you before you see them. I am Christina, one of the nurses here. I will take you to Dr. Drakoulias’s office.”

  Laurel followed the woman down the hallway. A side door opened, and she immediately recognized the deep rumble of Dr. Drakoulias’s voice.

  She couldn’t follow many of his quickly spoken Greek words, but saw his hand was cupped beneath the elbow of a stooped-over elderly woman as they stepped from what looked like an examination room, obviously helping her stay steady as she walked. A small frown creased his brow just as it had when he’d been looking at Laurel’s gash.

  Whatever the woman said in return made him laugh, banishing the frown and making him look younger. His eyes twinkled as he shook his head, saying something else in a teasing tone, making her laugh in return. She lifted a gnarled hand to his cheek and gave it a pat, then a pinch that looked as if it had to hurt, but he didn’t seem fazed.

  Christina was chuckling too, as she took hold of the woman’s other arm to walk with her back down the hall.

  Laurel wanted to ask what the woman had said that was so amusing, and if she always pinched people like that, but didn’t want to sound nosy. Dr. Drakoulias turned his attention to Laurel, and she felt the power of those eyes and that magnetic smile clear down to her toes. “Very punctual, I see. In my experience, the workers on the dig usually show up late. Or not at all.”

  “I admit it’s easy to get distracted up there. But I had to learn fast how to keep track of time.” Her own and everyone else’s.

  “So apparently you didn’t find a gold statue today.”

  Her heart lurched hard in her chest and she stared at him, relaxing when she realized he was just kidding. “Not today, I’m afraid.”

  “Just so you know, I’d consider that a good reason to miss an appointment.” He gave her a teasing smile that sent her attention to his beautiful mouth, which was not a good place for it to be. Thankfully, he reached for her hand and she followed his gaze to the new bandage. “Let’s get this cleaned up.”

  “It’s all right, really. I put peroxide on it and a clean bandage.”

  He grasped her elbow and walked to the sink, her injured hand still in his. “That’s good, but I’d like to clean it again, nonetheless. Better to prevent an infection than have to treat one.”

  She couldn’t argue with that, and again watched his fingers gently and carefully remove the bandage. He looked closely at her palm for a long moment before he spoke. “It’s going to hurt a little, I’m sorry to say, but thoroughly washing this out is important. Are you ready?”

  She nodded and braced herself as he turned on the faucet, holding the open cut directly underneath the cool stream. He was right, it definitely hurt, but no way was she going to be a baby about it. Biting her lip, she’d have sworn he about drained the town’s entire water supply and was just about to yell, Enough already! when he finally turned it off.

  He wrapped her hand with a towel and gently dried it. “You were very brave. I appreciate that you didn’t scream in my ear like the last patient I did that to.”

  The eyes that met hers held a pleasing mix of humor, warmth and admiration in their dark depths. “I reserve screaming for activities that truly warrant it,” she said. Then wanted to sink into the floor when his eyebrows lifted and something else mingled with the humor in his eyes. “Things like bungee-jumping, for example,” she added hastily.

  “I see. So you’re a daredevil.”

  “Um, not really.” Not about to admit she wouldn’t bungee-jump unless her life depended on it, and definitely wouldn’t admit the direction her thoughts had suddenly gone, she quickly changed the subject. “What is that stuff you’re putting on there?”

  “Just a topical antibiotic.” With nowhere else to look, her gaze again got stuck on his face instead of his work on her hand. On his dark lashes, lowered over his eyes; his ridiculously sculpted cheekbones; his lips twisting a little as he wrapped white gauze over the cut. “This gauze bandage will keep it clean and dry, but I’d like to check it in a couple days.”

  “It’ll be fine. Thank you.” It suddenly struck her that she probably needed to pay him. “What do I owe you, Dr. Drakoulias?”

  “First, I’d like you to call me Andros, since Dr. Drakoulias reminds me of my father and I don’t want to feel old around a beautiful woman. Second, I’m the one who insisted on treating you, so it’s on the house. I might get a bad reputation if I chase ambulances, then hand unsuspecting pa
tients a bill.”

  She had to grin at the picture that conjured, and the smile in his eyes and on his lips grew in response. “So if anybody on the dig team gets hurt, I need to find a way to lure you to the site, then when your Hippocratic Oath kicks in, we’ll get free medical care? Good to know.”

  “I’m pretty sure you’d have no trouble at all luring me there.”

  Did he mean, because he was interested in archaeology? Or something else altogether? After all, he’d called her “beautiful.” She shoved aside the intriguing question, reminding herself she had work to focus on, and luring dreamy Dr. Drakoulias couldn’t be on the agenda, even if he was willing to be lured.

  Though the thought alone put a hitch in her breath and sent a little electric zing from the top of her head to her toes.

  “Are we going to see Mel and Tom now? Where are they?”

  His expression instantly became neutral and professional. “They’re in the clinic hospital, which is attached to this building. But before you see them, I’d like to talk to you in my office.”

  “Why?”

  “Because,” he said, his lips tightening into a grim line, “they are both seriously ill.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  ANDROS WAS ALL too aware of the woman following close behind him down the clinic corridor. She smelled good. Like sweet lemons or grapefruit strewn with flowers, and he had an urge to bury his nose in the softness of her neck and breathe her in.

  Something about her had stopped him in his tracks the first second he’d seen her on the mountain. Her blonde hair was the color of sunshine, pulled back into a thick, untidy ponytail that had flowed from beneath a creased canvas hat that was definitely for function, not style. The blue eyes that had met his were sharp and intelligent, and there was an exotic look to her features that made him want to keep looking. Maybe not a classic kind of beauty, but there was something intangible and appealing about her. Her skin was practically luminous without any makeup at all. He hadn’t thought much about it until this moment, but, compared to the carefully put-together women he used to date, he liked her natural look a lot.