Chapter Fourteen #3
They stood that way for a few long moments, and the way he smiled at her had that fizzy feeling rippling through her chest again.
Eventually, she stepped away from him when it occurred to her that, knowing Blane, he probably wouldn’t move first in case he somehow thought he was messing up her dream.
She chuckled as she took his hand again.
“Come on. Let’s walk.”
After a few steps, his fingers tightened around hers. “Your dream. Was it specifically about holding hands?”
“Why, Blane? What are you thinking?”
When she looked up at him, he gave her a sheepish smile. “Just that I kinda like it when I get to put my arm around you. But I don’t want to screw it up if it’s about holding hands.”
She had to laugh as she let go of his hand and wrapped her arm around his waist instead. When his arm settled around her shoulders, she leaned against him.
“This is good too. Perfect, in fact.”
“I thought so; I get you closer this way.”
She didn’t have any words for that, because it was exactly how she felt too. With every day that passed, she found herself wanting to get closer and closer to this wonderful man.
As they approached the harbor wall, she pointed. “There are usually a bunch of tour boats there in the summer. I thought there might at least be fishing boats or something right now.”
“I’d guess they might use a more sheltered harbor. Sea’s a bit rough.”
“Oh yes. You’re probably right.”
“Is this somewhere you used to come a lot?”
“Not a lot. Meg and I have been a few times when we’ve come to Crete on holiday. We stayed at the house the last couple of times, so this is sort of our local beach, even though it isn’t all that local.”
“It was only a twenty-minute drive.”
“The way you drive. But I’d normally describe it as thirty.”
He took her completely by surprise when he stopped walking, slipped his other arm around her, and lifted her off her feet. He did it so fast that her legs swung out over the water, and she clung to him.
“Blane! Don’t you dare!”
He laughed as he set her back down on the sand. “Don’t worry. I wouldn’t. But you know, my driving’s not that bad.”
“I didn’t say it was bad. I simply implied that you go a little fast.”
He chuckled. “It only seems fast to you because you’re too busy worrying that you’re on the other side of the road and don’t have a steering wheel in front of you.”
“It’s true,” she agreed as they started walking again and his arm came back around her shoulders. “It’s very disorienting sitting where the driver should be, only to discover that you’re now the passenger and there’s no way to drive even if you wanted to.”
“You should practice, you know.”
He stopped short, and she knew exactly what he wasn’t saying.
She should practice while he was here to keep her company.
Before too long, he wouldn’t be. And that should be fine.
It had always been the plan. She’d expected to get used to the roads after she arrived, and of course she’d expected to be alone.
She stole a glance at him. His features had settled into a scowl, his gaze fixed somewhere out on the horizon as they walked.
“I will,” she told him. “But look, we’re almost at the restaurants now, and I’m going to let you choose. They have the menus on picture boards outside, so it’ll be completely up to you. After the fish-and-chip fiasco, I’m not prepared to risk making any recommendations.”
As it turned out, he chose her favorite of the three restaurants on the waterfront without her saying a word. He ordered moussaka, since he’d taken a liking to it when they had takeout from the taverna in the village, while Bea ordered grilled sea bream with lemon potatoes.
Their server brought them a bottle of sparkling water, and Blane poured them each a glass before leaning back in his chair. He stared out at the sea for a few moments, then turned to her with a smile.
“I can see why you like this place. Have to say, I like it myself.”
“I’m glad. It’s the kind of place you can come to relax, and…” She let the words trail off.
She’d been about to tell him that anytime he needed a relaxing break, he should come back and see her. But they still had a couple of weeks before he had to leave, and she didn’t want to bring up the ending before they had to.
Blane pressed his lips together and gave a slight nod, almost as though he’d understood what she hadn’t said.
“How was work this morning?” he asked after a moment.
“It was fine. Things are mostly quiet at the moment.”
His brows drew together. “Is it seasonal work?”
She gave him a puzzled look.
“I just wondered if there’s a reason it’s quiet now, or…” He shrugged. “Sorry. I don’t know what Simon did for a living, so I can’t make any guesses.”
“Oh.” She leaned back as the waiter arrived with their food. After he’d gone, she picked up her fork. “He was in private equity.”
Blane looked at her and waited. When she didn’t elaborate, he frowned. “That supposed to mean something to me?”
She found herself hesitating. It was a strange feeling, but somewhere along the way her loyalties had shifted.
Not in any way that made sense. Simon had been her husband for most of her adult life, while she’d known Blane for a matter of days, and yet she suddenly found herself caring more about what Blane might think of Simon than about protecting Simon from Blane’s judgment.
She wasn’t going to examine that too closely either.
“It means something rather unflattering to most people, actually. In America, you’d have called him a corporate raider.”
Blane had just picked up his fork, but he set it down again and met her gaze. For a moment, she wondered if he would judge her for having been married to a man like that.
When he eventually spoke, his words couldn’t have surprised her more. “You mean like Richard Gere in Pretty Woman?”
For a few moments, all she could do was stare at him. Then she laughed.
“What?”
“I’m sorry. I simply wasn’t expecting Pretty Woman from you.”
“Why the hell not?”
She studied him closely for a moment, wondering if she’d misread him completely or if he was somehow teasing her.
“Bea.”
That only made her laugh again.
“What? What’s the problem? Brooke loves that movie. I’ve seen the damn thing at least a dozen times.”
“Clearly,” was all she could manage to say.
He narrowed his eyes at her. “Whatever. My point is, Richard Gere in the movie—Edward, whatever his name was. He buys companies, breaks ’em apart, sells off the pieces, learns his lesson, ends up climbing a fire escape with flowers.”
Bea’s composure cracked completely. “Yes. That. Exactly that.”
Blane shrugged, completely unbothered. “So you’re saying that’s what Simon did?”
Her smile faded. “Well, the buying and breaking things apart part, at least. I’m afraid there were no fire escapes or flowers. Simon wasn’t the lesson-learning sort.”
“No?”
“No. In the movie, Edward felt a pang of conscience and saved the shipyard. Simon, on the other hand, would have sold the shipyard, sold the land it sat on, made three hundred men redundant and been home in time for dinner without a flicker. He was very good at knowing what a thing was worth in pieces.”
Blane said nothing, just watched her the way he did.
She cut into her fish and stared down at her plate for a moment before adding, “I don’t think it ever occurred to him that something might be worth more whole.”