A man approached them and asked for payment to rent the chairs. Nicholas paid him, and he quickly put up the umbrella, adjusting it to provide only minimal shade.
“You want more shade?” The man addressed Nicholas in English.
Nicholas cast Acacia a questioning look.
“No, I prefer the sun.” She unrolled her towel and arranged it carefully.
The man continued to the next sunbathers, and Rick and Kurt took their places in deck chairs behind the lounges.
Out of the corner of her eye, Acacia watched as Nicholas pulled his linen shirt over his head, revealing his muscled chest and abdomen. His khaki pants followed, leaving him in black swim trunks that fit very well.
While he slathered sunscreen on his arms and chest, she removed her sundress and adjusted her tangerine bikini. While many women were topless, as was common in Greece, she kept her top on.
She glanced over at Nicholas and discovered he’d abandoned his sunscreen to stare at her.
She lowered her sunglasses. “Something wrong?”
“Not at all. I was wondering if you’d help me.” He waggled the sunscreen in his hand.
“Sit down.”
He sat with his back to her, and she stood behind him. She squirted the white lotion into her hand and smoothed it over his broad shoulders.
Under her touch, his muscles tensed and then relaxed. She couldn’t help but notice how fit he was.
“Your turn,” he said thickly when she’d returned the bottle to him.
He rubbed the sunscreen into her skin. His touch was light but focused as he spread the cool substance all over. When he touched her lower back, she shivered.
“I should have warmed it first. I’m sorry,” he apologized.
She felt his breath on her ear and the heat of his body so close to hers. “It’s all right.”
He smoothed over her shoulders, a last caress, before he sat back.
She thanked him and returned to her lounge where she lowered herself on her stomach.
A cell phone rang nearby. Nicholas muttered a curse and retrieved his phone from a beach tote he’d placed in the sand.
Acacia turned her head in his direction. “No rest for the weary?”
“I’m switching it off. They’ll have to do without me for a few hours.” He tossed the phone back into the bag. “You have my full attention.”
She laughed. “Sorry to disappoint, but I’m taking a nap. You and your friends kept me out too late last night.”
“Today is your day.” He pulled out a Paris newspaper. “If you need anything, Andarta, anything at all, I’m here.”
She started at the unfamiliar name, but recovered herself and returned his smile.
Nicholas’s life was far from simple. She wondered how he could relax when there were so many dangers.
But Acacia couldn’t deny that the beach was peaceful. She soon forgot about the bodyguards as she dozed in the hot sun. The gentle hum of the people around her combined with the sound of the waves lapping against the sand. The rhythm was soothing.
What seemed like hours later, Nicholas touched her shoulder. “I’m worried you’re going to burn, ma chère. I think you should roll over.”
Slightly hazy from her nap, Acacia simply nodded. It took her a moment to right herself and sit up.
“I’m going into the water. Join me?” Nicholas extended his hand.
She set her sunglasses down and placed her hand in his. Nicholas’s hold was firm. He stroked her hand with his thumb as he navigated around the other sunbathers to the ocean.
When they reached the water, his grip on her tightened.
Acacia hesitated as the waves kissed her toes. The water seemed cool to her heated skin.
She looked over her shoulder and saw that the bodyguards had followed. As they approached, Acacia tugged Nicholas into the sea.
The water was at Acacia’s waist when Nicholas released her hand. He immersed himself and then emerged from the surf and wiped the water from his face. “Much better.”
Water droplets clung to his shoulders and chest and glistened in the sun like tiny jewels. Lower down, the droplets winked at her from a defined abdomen and the beginning of a trail of hair that disappeared below his waistband.
She looked away and surveyed the crowded beach and the looming bodyguards, who’d dipped their toes into the surf.
There were many beautiful women, almost all of them topless, who sunned themselves on lounge chairs and towels. A few had wandered into the water and looked like mermaids emerging from the foam.
Nicholas stood with his back to the mermaids, his eyes fixed on her. The realization sent a tingle down her spine.
She knew she was attractive. Her height stretched out her curves, but her breasts and her backside were generous. Her legs were long, and she had a narrow waist. Nicholas seemed to appreciate her bikini.
An arc of water sailed over her. She shrieked as the cold hit her skin.
Nicholas laughed. The bastard had splashed her.
Without hesitation, she used both hands to splash him back.
Nicholas held his arms up to block the spray, but was unsuccessful. With a roar, he charged, and lifted and spun her around.
Disoriented, she clutched at his shoulders and giggled.
“You are so beautiful.” He stopped turning. They were at eye level, their faces very close. “I’ve seen you in a concierge uniform, a bikini, a formal gown, and jeans. No matter what you’re wearing, you always take my breath away.”
Nicholas’s warm body pressed against hers, chest against chest. His arms wrapped around her. She felt safe, perhaps for the first time in years.
Nicholas’s gaze moved to her mouth.
He inhaled slowly, as if he were exerting himself, and placed her on her feet. He released her upper arms. “I’ve laughed more the past few days than I’ve laughed in a very long time.”
“I’m glad.”
He lifted his dripping hand and pushed her hair back from her face. “I may be Sisyphus, but you are Euphrosyne, the goddess of laughter. She’s one of the three Graces featured in Botticelli’s Primavera.”
Embarrassed, Acacia looked toward shore.
Nicholas took her hand in his. “We’d better return before Rick and Kurt show us what they look like in swimsuits. Do you think they wear Speedos?”
Acacia burst out laughing.
“So you grew up in Brazil?” Nicholas poured Acacia another glass of red wine.
They sat in a taverna built into the cliff, overlooking the sea. Their table stood next to the railing and afforded them an exceptional view. But again, Nicholas’s attention was entirely fixed on her.
They’d changed for dinner. Acacia wore a knee-length, pale purple dress with high-heeled bronze sandals. Nicholas wore a navy linen jacket over a white Oxford shirt and dark-washed jeans.
“We lived in Recife. I tried to spend as much time as possible at the beach when I wasn’t studying.” Acacia sipped her wine.
“I bet you drove all the young men crazy.”
She shook her head. “As I told you, my mother was strict.”
“But not your father?”
Acacia placed her glass on the table to steady herself. “He was strict too. How about your parents? Were they strict when you were young?”
“Not really. You’ve met them, so you know they prize manners and deportment. Apart from that, we had a lot of freedom. Perhaps too much freedom.”
“Did you go to boarding school?”
Nicholas gripped the stem of his wine glass. “No. I went to school in Geneva and lived at home until I went to university.”
“What did you study?”
“Business.”
“That’s a surprise,” Acacia teased. “I thought you were an expert in Lyonnais history and French existentialism. D
id you attend the University of Zurich?”
“No, the London School of Economics.”
Acacia couldn’t hide how impressed she was. “Did you always want to go into business?”
“My parents expected us to be involved in the family business. Riva chose to curate the gallery. I decided to work for one of my father’s companies in London. I’ve always been interested in history, but when I was young I wanted to be a tennis player.”
“Really?”
“Yes. Do you play?”
“A little.” She gave him a half-smile. “I wouldn’t be a very good opponent.”
“I doubt that.” He tasted his wine. “Did you always want to be a concierge?”
“No, I wanted to be a curator and oversee an art gallery.”
Nicholas’s eyes widened. “Why didn’t you?”
“I had a part-time job working at a hotel, and I kept being offered more work. I had difficulty finding employment in the art world. Finally, I gave up and took a few classes in hospitality.”
Nicholas looked stricken. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Why would I?”
“I can make an introduction. I’m friendly with the director of the Louvre, for God’s sake.”
She bristled. “I don’t want a job at the Louvre because I know someone who’s friends with the director.”
“Why not?”
“Because I want to earn it.”
Nicholas turned his head and looked out toward where the sun was setting.
I’ve offended his pride. She waited for him to turn to her once again.
The left side of his face was visible, and she studied it, noting that she’d become used to his scar. She’d been quietly upset when Yasmin brought it up, intimating that it was repulsive. It wasn’t. It was just part of Nicholas, the way the scar near her temple was part of her. Over time, she doubted she’d notice it.
She reached out across the table to touch his fingers. He surprised her by twining them with hers.
He gave her a repentant look. “Can I interest you in more wine?”
“No.” She squeezed his fingers. “I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful. It’s kind of you to offer, but I don’t want anything from you.”
“Perhaps that’s why I want to give you everything.”
Acacia rearranged the napkin in her lap, still holding Nicholas’s hand across the table.
He waited until she lifted her head. “You are the only one who never wanted anything from me.”
A long look passed between them, then Nicholas turned to look toward the sunset.
Chapter Thirty
THEY’D BARELY FINISHED DINNER when several of the waiters pushed empty tables aside in the center of the dining area to create a dance floor.
Music sounded from a pair of speakers. A group of men and women dressed in traditional costumes came out, bowed, and began a Santorini folk dance.
The restaurant patrons clapped their approval, and Acacia turned her chair so she could have a better view.
She glanced at Nicholas. Instead of watching the dancers, he was watching her.
When the first song ended, the performers approached the patrons and invited them to join the next dance. Acacia waved off the young man who spoke to her.
“You should dance,” Nicholas suggested.
“I don’t think so.”
“Why not?” He looked at her feet, which were tapping against the floor. “You can barely sit still.”
“I don’t want some man I don’t know touching me.”
Nicholas gave her a curious look. “There is another option.”
Acacia looked at the dancers and patrons lining up together, arms around one another’s shoulders. “I can’t dance in these shoes.”
“That’s easily fixed.” Nicholas threw his napkin on the table and crouched in front of her.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Removing your shoes.”
Discreetly, Nicholas lifted Acacia’s foot and undid the strap around her ankle. He slipped off the bronze sandal and placed it aside. Then he repeated the procedure on her other foot.
He stood and offered his hand. “Let’s go.”
She hesitated, but then the music started, and she took his hand. He led her to the line of dancers and positioned her between a female dancer and himself.
Acacia’s shoulders were bare in her pale purple dress. When Nicholas rested his arm across them, she felt a prickle of heat. Then they danced, mirroring the steps of the professionals as the music began slowly and increased its tempo.
Acacia could dance. She had innate rhythm and loved to move to music. She was amused as she watched Nicholas, who was a head and shoulders taller than everyone else, gamely trying to lift his long legs to keep step.
She smiled, she giggled, and she laughed until her eyes watered. It was so much fun. Almost the entire restaurant joined in the celebration.
When the dance was over, Acacia hugged the young woman at her side. Nicholas did the same. Then she looked up at him.
He’d been laughing and smiling too, but he grew contemplative.
She looked down at her brightly painted toes. “Thank you. You’re a good sport.”
He wove their fingers together and led her back to the table, where he helped her with her shoes. “Do you want to stay?”
“No.” She gazed longingly at the sea. The sun had slipped just below the horizon. “I wouldn’t mind a walk.”
“I’ll settle up.” He waved over a waiter and quickly paid the bill.
“We can walk along the cliffs. There’s a pedestrian path.” They climbed the stairs that led to the Jeep, as Rick and Kurt followed close behind. Before they reached the parking area, Nicholas took a left turn.
“What do you call that?” He nodded vaguely at her dress.
“Call what?” She smoothed her skirt.
“The material at the bottom of your outfit.”
In concert, they looked down.
Acacia laughed. “That’s a ruffle.”
“I like it.”
“It’s meant to be flirtatious.”
Nicholas lifted their conjoined hands and kissed her knuckles. “And are you?”
“Am I what?”
“Flirtatious?”
“When I want to be.”
Nicholas groaned, as if her answer pained him.
They walked slowly and admired the streaks of orange, pink, and purple that still lit the sky.
The wind began to rise and blew Acacia’s curls across her face. She tried tucking them behind her ears unsuccessfully and finally gave up.
At the top of a staircase, Nicholas stopped and removed the navy linen jacket he’d worn to dinner. He placed it around her bare shoulders. “There.” He pulled the lapels together, as if that would offer additional warmth.
She smiled up at him. “You noticed I was cold.”
“I notice everything about you.” He stood with his back to the sea and held her hand.
She looked down at their connection. It was a little thing—one set of fingers clasping another. But it was thrilling and comforting and strangely natural, given how little they knew one another. It was as if their hands had become acquainted long ago and were pleased at being reunited.
“What are you passionate about?” She lifted her gaze to his face. He watched her intently.
Nicholas’s hands moved with hers, bringing her next to him, against the whitewashed concrete barrier that stood on the side of the cliff.
She frowned. “Perhaps my question was too intimate. I’m sorry.”
“It wasn’t, no,” Nicholas responded. “You surprised me. There’s one question I’ve been expecting, but as ever, you are most unexpected. In the best sense.”
“What’s the question?�
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He gave her a half-smile. “If it hasn’t occurred to you, I’ll let it be.
“I used to be passionate about tennis, my work, my circle of friends. I’m afraid all those passions have given way to family concerns.” His smile faded.
“Can I ask about your sister?”
“She was intelligent and funny. She was passionate about art. She always wanted to curate the gallery, even when she was a little girl.”
“She must have been very gifted.”
A fond expression came over Nicholas’s face. “She was. I had a mind for numbers and problem solving. She had a mind for beauty. In many ways, she was closer to my parents than I was.”
Nicholas exhaled slowly and looked down at Acacia. “Do you think if someone does the right thing for the wrong reason, the action is still right?”
“That sounds like a question for a prophet.”
“What about doing the wrong thing for the right reason?” His eyes focused on hers.
“That question is easier to answer. I think it’s clear that wrong actions are wrong, even if you have good intentions.”
“Why?” He came a step closer.
She took a deep breath. “Because the rhetoric of racists, terrorists, and those that commit genocide always claims good intentions. The woman from Lyon claims to love France and wants to keep it strong. So she’s determined to keep foreigners out. In the Rwandan conflict, the factions claimed to want to protect themselves. So they killed the men, women, and children of the other side.”
Acacia shook her head. “Perhaps the real problem with the world is self-deception. People have evil intentions, believing them to be good.”
Nicholas was silent. He drew her into his side and placed his arm around her shoulder. Together, they watched the light colors darken and fade from the sky.
Nicholas drove back to the villa, taking his time down the dark, winding roads.
When they reached their destination, he placed his hands on Acacia’s waist and lifted her to the ground. She touched his chest to steady herself.
“I have to make a few phone calls.” His face was rueful. “Thank you for today.”
“Thank you. I had fun.”
He lifted his hand to push the curls out of her face. “You didn’t wear your head scarf.”
The Man in the Black Suit Page 19