Falling For Dr. Dimitriou Page 5

  It was unlikely she’d ever know.

  * * *

  Katherine sank back into the leather seat of her replacement car, grateful she didn’t have to drive back to the villa on dark, twisting roads. Alexander switched on the radio, and the soothing notes of a Brahms concerto softly filled the silence that had sprung up between them since they’d left the restaurant. The lights of the dashboard and the occasional passing vehicle revealed a man absorbed with his own thoughts, his forehead knotted, his eyes bleak. He turned the volume up a little more.

  ‘You like this?’ she asked. ‘It’s one of my favourites.’

  He glanced at her. ‘It is? My wife used to play it all the time. I haven’t listened to it for a while...’ He looked away, his mouth set in a grim line.

  His wife was like a ghostly presence in the car.

  Katherine closed her eyes. Deliberately shifting her focus from Alexander, she wondered how Stéfan was faring. If it was meningitis, he could very well be struggling for his life at this moment. She hoped she was wrong and he just had an infection that would be quickly cleared up with antibiotics.

  Becoming aware they had entered the village, she sat straighter in her seat.

  Tension seeped between them as he brought the car to a standstill outside her villa. They unclipped their seat belts and climbed out of the car.

  As he handed her the keys, their fingers touched. She looked up at him from beneath her lashes, wondering if he had felt the electricity too. Would he ask to come in? Or if he could see her again?

  Instead, his voice was as neutral as his words. ‘I enjoyed today. Thank you, Katherine.’

  Disappointment washed over her. But what had she expected? It was clear he was still grieving for his wife.

  ‘I did too. Good night...’

  ‘Good night, Katherine.’

  She winced inwardly as she heard the finality in his tone. Hercules, purring loudly, curved his body around her legs as she opened the front door.

  He was some comfort at least.

  * * *

  As the door closed behind her, Alexander thrust his hands deeper into his pockets and, before turning for the short walk home across the square, cursed himself for the fool he was.

  Throughout the day he had been aware of the rising of desire he felt for this strait-laced, reserved, intelligent and beautiful woman. But hearing the melody Sophia had played so often had reminded him that Katherine would be leaving too. Even if she hadn’t he had only ashes to give her.

  No, his first instincts had been correct. It wouldn’t be right to become entangled with this hurting woman.

  CHAPTER THREE

  ‘YIA-YIA SAYS you must come to our house.’

  Katherine started. She hadn’t been aware of Crystal coming in. Now here she was again, as bold as brass in her sitting room, as if she had every right to be there. But, then, Katherine conceded silently, she had extended what had amounted to an open invitation.

  ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘Yia-Yia says you helped Baba with his hand so she wants you to come to dinner. She says it’s not good for someone to be alone all the time.’

  ‘Yia-Yia? Your grandmother?’ When Crystal nodded, she added, ‘Does your father know you’re here?’

  The little girl hitched her shoulders and flopped her arms to her side, her hands bumping against her legs. ‘I did tell him.’ Her sigh was dramatic. ‘He’s working on his boat again. He also wants you to come.’

  Katherine wasn’t sure she believed Crystal. She didn’t want to impose herself on Alexander’s family—particularly if he’d be there. He’d come to the villa the evening after they’d been to Olympia to tell her that her diagnosis had been correct. Stéfan did indeed have meningitis and was in Intensive Care. But Alexander hoped that, because of her alerting them to look out for meningitis, Stéfan would recover.

  She hadn’t seen Alexander since then but, to her dismay, she’d found herself thinking about him—a lot—during the week and knew she was in real danger of developing a crush on him. An unreciprocated crush, clearly, and someone like him was bound to pick up sooner or later the effect he was having on her. The ending of their evening together had indicated, more than words could, that he wasn’t interested in pursuing a relationship with her. No, if the invitation had been extended by him, it had been out of politeness—from one colleague to another.

  In which case it would be better not to encourage Crystal to visit too much.

  Katherine managed a smile. ‘I’m very busy, Crystal, so...’ she picked up her pen pointedly ‘...would you thank your grandmother very much for her kind invitation but tell her I won’t be able to make it?’

  But instead of taking the hint, Crystal came to stand next to her. ‘What are you doing?’ she asked.

  ‘It’s a paper I’d like to finish before I go back to work.’

  ‘Like homework?’

  ‘Exactly.’ Trying to ignore the child next to her, Katherine made a few more notes on the page. But it was clear Crystal had no intention of leaving any time soon.

  She suppressed a sigh and put her pen down. ‘Would you like some orange juice?’

  ‘Yes, please.’

  When she got up to fetch it, both Hercules and Crystal followed her into the small kitchen.

  ‘I told Baba that Yia-Yia and me thought you must be lonely all by yourself and he agreed. So it’s good I can keep you company sometimes.’

  As Katherine crouched down to give Hercules some food she felt her cheeks grow hot. It was bad enough, mortifying enough, that Alexander had said that, but for him, his six-year-old and his grandmother to be discussing her was too much. Was that what this dinner invitation was about? A let’s-keep-the-solitary-woman-company-for-at-least-one-night-so-that-we-don’t-have-to-worry-about-her-being-on-her-own? She swore silently.

  It made it more important than ever that she stay away from him; she absolutely refused to be the object of sympathy.

  ‘You can tell your father, as I’ve already told him, I’m perfectly happy being on my own. I’m not in the least bit lonely.’ Why was she justifying herself to a child? If she did feel a little bereft at times, it was only to be expected after losing Mum so recently. She handed Crystal the glass of juice.

  ‘I could paint your toenails if you like,’ Crystal said. She held up a plastic bag. ‘Look. I got three different colours for my birthday from Cousin Helen. Baba says I’m too young to be wearing nail polish.’ Her mouth drooped. ‘Helen shouldn’t have given it to me if I couldn’t wear it. What was she thinking?’

  The last phrase sounded so much like something her friend Sally would have said, it made Katherine smile.

  ‘If you let me do your nails, it’ll make you even more beautiful,’ Crystal continued plaintively, and apparently without the tiniest hint of guile.

  Katherine knew when she was beaten. ‘Okay,’ she said.

  A smile of delight spread across Crystal’s face. ‘Can I? Really?’

  ‘Yes, but only my toes. I don’t wear varnish on my fingernails. A doctor has to keep their fingernails short.’ She held up her hands and wiggled them.

  ‘Okay. You sit on the couch and put your feet on this chair,’ Crystal instructed, lugging one of the kitchen chairs over.

  Wondering whether she’d made a mistake by agreeing to the child’s demands, Katherine slid her feet out of her sandals and placed them on the vinyl-covered seat. ‘Like this?’

  Crystal nodded. She opened the popper of her little plastic bag and very carefully placed three pots of nail varnish on the table. ‘What colour would you like?’

  Katherine studied the pots of varnish for a moment. One was deep purple and completely out of the question, even if she intended to remove the polish at the first opportunity, the second was deep red and the third a pa
le, coral pink.

  She pointed to the pink one. ‘That one.’

  ‘But I like the red.’ Crystal pouted.

  Katherine bit down on a smile. ‘Okay. Red it is.’

  She leaned against the back of the couch and closed her eyes. Crystal’s little hands were like feathers on her feet and, to her surprise, Katherine found it very soothing.

  ‘There. Done. Look!’ Crystal said eventually. She stood back to admire her work. ‘I told you it would be pretty.’

  Katherine peered down at her toes. It was as if someone had taken a machete to them, lopping them off somewhere below the metatarsals. There had to more nail polish on her skin and the seat of the chair than on her nails. But Crystal looked so pleased with herself that Katherine quickly hid her dismay. ‘Mmm. Quite a difference.’

  Crystal tugged her hand. ‘Come on, let’s show Baba.’

  ‘I don’t think your father—’

  But Crystal was pulling her to her feet. ‘Helen wouldn’t let me do hers, but when she sees yours, she will.’

  ‘Crystal! I said ten minutes!’ Alexander’s voice came from below the balcony.

  ‘Coming, Baba. In a minute.’

  ‘Now, Crystal!’

  Keeping her toes spread as far apart as possible, Katherine hobbled over to the balcony and looked down. Alexander was wiping grease-stained hands on a rag. His T-shirt clung damply to his chest and his hair was tousled. Yet he still managed to look like a Greek god.

  ‘Hi, Katherine.’ His teeth flashed. ‘Sorry I’m calling up, but my feet are sandy, my hands grubby and I need a dip in the sea before I’m fit for company. You are coming to dinner, aren’t you?’

  Crystal bumped against her as she climbed excitedly onto the rung of the balcony. ‘She says not to dinner, Baba, but can she come for a visit? She is much more beautiful now! You have to see her.’

  Katherine was about to protest when his eyes locked on hers. ‘The part I can see of her already looks pretty good.’ For a long moment the world seemed to disappear until there were just the two of them. ‘Why not dinner?’ he asked, breaking the spell.

  ‘Because I’ve work to do and, anyway, I don’t like to intrude on your family.’

  ‘I assume you take time off to eat?’

  ‘Yes, you have to eat!’ his daughter echoed.

  ‘My grandmother will be disappointed if you don’t. She’s already started preparing her best dishes.’

  Alexander’s family appeared determined to adopt her. She winced at her choice of words and sought desperately for an acceptable excuse. Apart from the effect Alexander had on her, every time she looked at Crystal she was painfully reminded of what she’d lost.

  ‘Yes, lahanodolmádes and patátes yemistés,’ Crystal added. ‘Oh, and baklavás for afters! What else, Baba?’

  ‘Crystal, could you please stop interrupting everyone?’ He looked at Katherine again. ‘Stay for dinner at least and then you can leave.’

  It seemed that she had no choice but to allow herself to be dragged out of the house—it would be churlish to continue refusing not only Alexander’s pleas but those of his daughter too. And to be honest, her mouth had started to water when Crystal had been listing the menu. It was a long time since she’d tasted home-cooked Greek food like her mother used to make.

  ‘Yes, then. I’d love to.’

  Crystal, victorious, clenched her fist and stabbed her folded elbow backwards. ‘Yes-s-s! I’ll see you at home, Baba. I’ll bring her.’

  ‘Not her, Crystal. Dr Burns.’

  ‘Katherine is fine,’ Katherine said.

  He grinned at her. ‘You did bring this on yourself, you know, by being so mysterious and elusive.’

  Mysterious? Was that how he saw it? That she was the elusive one? She couldn’t help smiling back.

  ‘And you did tell Crystal she could visit. My daughter appears to find you irresistible.’

  Her heart plummeted. She preferred him to find her irresistible.

  The pint-sized tyrant wouldn’t even let her stop to put on her sandals, saying severely that she would spoil it all if she tried to put them on too soon.

  Alexander’s home was set back from the village square and up a steep, narrow path. It was several times larger than hers, with shuttered windows, a cobbled driveway and paths and lush, established grounds. He must have a wonderful view from the wide balconies of his clifftop home.

  It took a while for Katherine’s eyes to adjust to the dim interior after the bright light and blinding white beach outside. The house was cool, probably because it was shuttered against the heat of the day, although now the shutters were spread wide, allowing a breeze to penetrate the rooms. Despite Crystal hurrying her along, Katherine managed to catch glimpses of her surroundings: engraved, dark wood furniture; colourful striped rugs on polished terracotta tiles; and montages of family photographs, old and new, on white, rough-plastered walls. Crystal swept her into the kitchen where Katherine’s senses were assailed with the aromas of garlic, herbs and browning meat.

  A plump white-haired woman, bent over the pots steaming on an enormous traditional stove, lifted her head. She smiled warmly at Katherine and addressed her rapidly in Greek.

  ‘Yia-Yia welcomes you and says she’s happy you are here, visiting our home,’ Crystal translated. ‘Please sit at the table.’ Without allowing Katherine time to reply, she turned to her grandmother and spoke in Greek, pointing excitedly to Katherine’s toes. The older woman leant over and exclaimed. Katherine didn’t need to understand any Greek to gather she was praising her great-granddaughter’s efforts. Crystal’s face said it all.

  She had barely sat down before a plate of spanakopita was set down in front of her. Crystal’s great-grandmother turned back to her stove, muttering happily.

  ‘Aren’t you glad you came?’ Crystal said triumphantly. ‘Look how pleased she is!’

  If the child hadn’t been so young, Katherine would have suspected her of engineering the whole situation.

  ‘What’s your great-grandmother’s name?’ Katherine asked.

  ‘Yia-Yia, silly.’

  Katherine took a bite of the miniature spinach and feta pie. She flapped a hand in front of her mouth. ‘Hot. Thermo. Hot. But wonderful,’ she added hastily. Two pairs of dark brown eyes studied her ‘No, I mean what should I call her?’

  ‘The same as everyone. Yia-Yia. She knows your name. Baba told her. I’m just going to get him!’ Crystal said, flying out of the door.

  Yia-Yia beckoned Katherine over to where she was working and pointed at the leaves of pastry she had laid out on a baking tray. She brought her fingers to her lips and made a smacking sound. It was clear she was showing Katherine what she was making for supper and that it would be delicious. Katherine could only smile and nod in response.

  She was almost relieved when Crystal returned, dragging Alexander in her wake. His hair glistened almost black from his shower and he had changed into a bitter-chocolate T-shirt and cotton jeans. ‘Show Baba your toes,’ Crystal ordered.

  Grimacing to herself, Katherine did as she was asked. She saw the leap of laughter in Alexander’s eyes as he dutifully studied her feet. ‘Very beautiful,’ he said to Katherine, before murmuring so his daughter couldn’t hear. ‘Do you actually have toes at the ends of those feet? Or should I get the suture kit out again?’

  Katherine spluttered with laughter, just managing to turn it into a cough at the last moment. But suddenly Alexander was whooping with laughter and she was too. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d laughed like that. Yia-Yia and Crystal looked puzzled for a moment then they were whooping too, Yia-Yia’s deep brown eyes almost disappearing in her chubby face.

  ‘What’s so funny?’ Crystal asked, when everyone stopped laughing.

  Alexander tweaked her nose. ‘If you don’t kn
ow, why did you join in?’

  ‘I couldn’t help it.’ She was hopping from foot to foot. ‘I just liked hearing you laugh, Baba.’

  The atmosphere in the room changed subtly and the light in Alexander’s eyes disappeared, replaced by something Katherine couldn’t read.

  ‘If you’ll excuse me,’ he apologised, ‘a neighbour is complaining of a tight chest. It’s nothing that staying off cigarettes wouldn’t help, but his wife is always happier if I look in on him. I’ll be back in a little while.’ He turned to his grandmother and spoke to her. She nodded, unsmiling.

  ‘Can I come, Baba?’ his daughter asked.

  ‘Of course. You know I always like to have my little helper with me. As long as you stay out of the way and as quiet as a mouse.’ He caught Katherine’s eye and raised an eyebrow. ‘My daughter as quiet as a mouse? Who am I kidding?’ he murmured, his lips curving into a smile.

  Crystal was out of the door almost before he’d finished speaking.

  Once again, Katherine was left alone with Yia-Yia. There was an awkward silence for a moment before the older woman beckoned Katherine to come forward. With a series of hand gestures and nods of the head, she indicated to Katherine that she wanted her help to finish preparing the meal.

  ‘I’m sorry, I can’t cook,’ Katherine protested. There had never been a need to learn. When her mother had been alive and Katherine had been living at home they’d always eaten at the restaurant. And when she’d moved out and into her first flat she’d taken her main meal at the hospital or had eaten simple salads or pasta for supper. Then, when Mum had become too unwell to be on her own and Katherine had moved back home to look after her, she had fetched Greek delicacies from a nearby restaurant—their own having been sold a couple of years earlier—in an attempt to tempt Mum’s failing appetite.

  But almost before she’d finished speaking she was being passed a bowl of minced lamb and handed bunches of pungent-smelling herbs. Either Yia-Yia didn’t understand what she was saying, or it had never crossed her mind that not all women liked cooking.