His brow furrowed and he looked as if he were about to say something more, but he merely took a sip of coffee and asked Paige about the island. The strain between them was back.
For the next two days, Mitch and Paige baited each other until Susannah wanted to slap them both. Mitch continued to bring up the subject of Susannah's return, but she refused to discuss it. He began to make vague allusions to a new problem at SysVal. She ignored him. For the past six years she had dedicated herself to the company. Someone else could take over for a while.
By the third day, Mitch could no longer postpone his departure. 'We need you in California, Susannah,' he said once again, as he handed over his suitcase to the driver of the jeep that was taking him to the airstrip in Chora. 'Come with me. We can get a later plane.' Once again, she had the sense that he was holding something back.
'Soon,' she replied quickly. 'I won't stay much longer.'
'When? Damn it, Susannah-'
Paige quickly intervened, jumping into the fray like a mother bear defending her cub. Using tactics that were distinctly her own, she brushed her small body against Mitch's big one and gave him her poutiest smile. 'So long, Mitch. Look me up whenever you decide you're man enough to go skinny dipping with me.'
Instead of ignoring Paige's baiting, he smiled. For a moment his eyes flicked to Susannah, and then he cupped Paige by the back of her neck and gave her a long, deliberate kiss.
When Susannah saw his tongue slip into her sister's mouth, she looked away. She was well aware that Mitch had a strongly sexual nature tucked away beneath his endless supply of navy-blue suits, but it made her uncomfortable to witness it.
Mitch pulled back and slapped Paige's rear. 'Keep it warm for me, lamb chop. One of these days, I just might run out of interesting things to do and take you up on your offer.'
He brushed Susannah's cheek with a friendly kiss and climbed into the jeep. Paige shaded her eyes with her hands and watched the vehicle disappear. 'Mitch Blaine is definitely one hell of a man.'
It was the first time Susannah had ever heard her sister speak about any male without cynicism. She suppressed a stab of jealousy because Paige was forming a relationship with Mitch while her own friendship seemed to be showing mysterious signs of strain.
'I should have gone back with him,' she said stiffly. 'I don't know what's wrong with me. I can't stay here forever.'
Paige draped a comforting arm over her sister's shoulders. 'Give yourself a little more time.'
Time didn't help. Another week passed, but whenever Susannah thought of returning to California, her heart began to race. One afternoon, she stood at the stone sink washing up their luncheon dishes while Paige went into the village, and as she dried a serving bowl, she told herself she had to do something soon. It wasn't fair to impose upon Paige much longer. For the first time, she let herself think about leaving SysVal and going to another company. Her misery was so encompassing that she didn't hear the jeep pulling up outside the cottage.
Yank hated to travel. He could never find his tickets and his boarding passes disappeared. He picked up the wrong luggage and always seemed to end up next to crying babies. Occasionally he became so absorbed in his thoughts that he missed his boarding call altogether and the plane took off without him. As a result, SysVal had an unwritten policy that he was never to be sent on a business trip alone. But Mitch hadn't been able to retrieve Susannah, and they certainly couldn't send Sam. That meant Yank had to do the job.
His coworkers would have been surprised to know how efficiently he had managed the complicated trip to the island of Naxos. They still didn't understand that he was able to function quite well when he chose to. It was just that most of the time he didn't choose to.
As he got out of the jeep in front of the cottage, he made a precise currency conversion in his head and then tipped the driver exactly fifteen percent of the fare, counting out the drachmas and organizing them into precise piles in the palm of his hand. When he was done, he carefully slipped his wallet back into his pocket so he wouldn't lose it and picked up his suitcase. It was leather and monogrammed with matching Y's. A former girlfriend had given it to him as a present for his thirtieth birthday. Later, his accountant told him that she had charged it on one of Yank's own credit cards.
While he walked up the path to the cottage, he organized his thoughts and mentally prepared himself for the task of retrieving Susannah. This was a job he couldn't afford to bungle. It was too important to all of them.
She answered the door after his first knock. She appeared so tired and sad that Yank wanted to hug her, but of course he didn't. All the feeling he had held for her since the evening Sam had brought her to the Homebrew meeting rushed through him like a bombardment of electrons.
'Yank!' Susannah's mouth grew slack with astonishment. She glanced past his shoulder to see who had brought him. He could almost feel her dread that it might be Sam.
'Hello, Susannah.' He watched as she tilted her head to the side to look behind him again. 'I'm alone.'
'Alone?'
He nodded.
Her forehead wrinkled. 'Did someone come part of the way with you?'
'I came all the way alone.'
'Ail the way to Greece?'
'Could I come in, Susannah? And if it isn't too much trouble, I'd very much like something to drink.'
'Of course.' She stepped aside to admit him, but she couldn't resist one last peek outside before she shut the door.
'I think we have some Greek beer,' she said. 'But-Why are you here, Yank?'
'I've come to get you,' he said simply. 'I've come to take you home.'
The sun was in Paige's eyes, so for a moment she thought the man standing with his back to her on the patio was Mitch. A flash of pleasure washed through her at the idea of engaging in another round of sexual dueling with the delectably stuffy Mr. Blaine. But then she realized that the man looking out toward the sea was much leaner than Mitch and even taller-maybe four or five inches over six feet.
As he turned toward her, she caught her breath. What an incredibly arresting man! His brown hair was side- parted and well-cut. His features were unusually sharp: bladed cheekbones, a thin straight nose, finely chiseled lips-all of it topped by a pair of light brown eyes that were widely spaced and compelling. He was casually dressed in a charcoal shirt with a pair of chinos and a webbed belt. A nearly empty bottle of Greek beer was clasped in his hand, and a gold watch with a leather strap encircled his wrist. All in all, he was an extremely tempting piece of male flesh.
She took a step toward him and stopped as a prickle of unease traveled up her spine. He was looking at her so strangely, almost as if he were taking her apart and examining the separate pieces-the iris of an eye, the curl that brushed her cheek, her chin, a breast. He shifted his gaze to her other breast, regarded it with great concentration, and then moved his eyes down over her torso to her hips. Instead of being insulted, she felt curiously flattered.
'Should I turn around so you can see the rest?'
'Not unless you'd like to.' His voice was so deep and soft that it almost seemed to have blown in off the sea.
The door of the cottage opened and Susannah came out with a glass of ice water. She looked tense and frazzled. 'Paige, you're back. I didn't hear the moped.'
'Just got here.' Paige set down the string bag of produce from the market and once again glanced curiously toward their visitor.
'Paige, this is Yank Yankowski. Yank, my sister Paige.'
Paige nearly choked. This was Yank? This was the dopey genius that Susannah and Mitch had told her all those stories about? Had Susannah gone blind or had she simply lost her mind?
Paige let her gaze drift appreciatively over Yank. 'No wonder big business fascinates you, Susannah. Do you have any more male partners tucked away?'
Susannah looked at her blankly.
Paige returned her attention to Yank and saw that his eyes had grown unfocused. He began patting his pockets, muttering something indecipherable, and then-without a word to either of them-walked past them into the cottage.
Paige watched him with amazement. 'What on earth-'
