The small fish cooked quickly, and by the time Iannis had finished with them there was only succulent pale brown meat on Charlotte’s plate, with not even a fine bone in sight. His knife glinted in the light again as he sliced a tomato, discarding the tough inner core and then balancing the moist slices on the blade to slip them onto her plate. He had salt and pepper grinders, as well as a glass bottle with a screw top containing oil. There were chilli peppers, bay leaves and peppercorns floating in the greenish gold liquid, and he added a little, together with a sprinkling of seasoning, to their food.
If this was standard table tackle for fishermen on Iskos, she was definitely impressed, Charlotte thought as he produced a bottle of local wine. They drank out of pottery beakers, and the wine, chilled in the sea, was delicious.
‘This is wonderful. Thank you,’ Charlotte said as they clinked beakers. ‘It’s far more than I expected.’
‘I am delighted to have exceeded your expectations,’ Iannis replied, dipping his head in recognition of her praise.
They shared the meal between them, balancing the plate on a flat rock and sitting either side of it. It was the most relaxed time Charlotte had spent on Iskos. She stole a glance at her companion, who seemed fully engrossed—either in the food or the view. He stared out to sea with the look of a man who was just at home there as on land. His eyes were narrowed and his glance was keen, and there was such depth there, Charlotte mused romantically, telling herself to note that down. Surely he had many more interests other than fishing. She longed to ask him about them, but at that moment his firm lips quirked slightly, as if he felt her staring at him, and she quickly looked away.
‘Good?’ he enquired, and with that one softly spoken word he drew her back into the ambit of his stunning gaze.
‘Absolutely delicious,’ Charlotte admitted softly. ‘I’ve never tasted sardines like this before.’
‘Because they are freshly caught,’ Iannis explained. ‘They are a different class of food altogether to those fish that have travelled for many hours before reaching their destination.’
‘I couldn’t agree more—’ Charlotte stopped, hearing that her voice had changed subtly to a tone she might employ at a drinks party back home. A foodie chat with Iannis Kiriakos?
‘Are you not lonely on your own at the villa?’
Charlotte took a moment to refocus as he changed the subject. ‘If you mean do I need a man to feel secure there—or anywhere else, for that matter—the answer’s no, Iannis.’
Charlotte knew the strength of her retort was unnecessary, but for some reason he had put her on the defensive. She studied him again, and as he turned to look at her she held his gaze a moment, to show she was quite capable of looking after herself.
Iannis merely huffed a small silent laugh, as if in wry acceptance of the fact, and then turned back to face out to sea.
‘You don’t have to be defensive with me,’ he observed gently. ‘I like my own space too. I am content in my own company. I have learned that solitude can be as invigorating, as instructive as even the very best company.’
Charlotte relaxed a little. It was so refreshing, so unexpected to find Iannis understood her without the need for lengthy explanation. They sat in silence together until he murmured, ‘I value silence too…time to listen to the sounds all around me, and the thoughts and feelings inside me.’
She’d had no idea they shared so much, and the urge to question him about his thoughts and feelings was something Charlotte had to fight to subdue. Without words or physical contact, without much happening at all, they were growing closer, she realised warily.
‘Fisherman have to be patient,’ he said, breaking into her thoughts. ‘They must know their territory intimately and be prepared for the worst.’
While Iannis conveniently chose to gaze out to sea, Charlotte forced herself to take an objective look at his faded tee shirt and battered shorts, his bare feet and tousled hair. She was not Shirley Valentine; she could not give up her successful career to live with a simple fisherman on a remote Greek island.
‘Has someone hurt you?’ he demanded, keeping his gaze fixed on some middle point.
Probing her subconscious by stealth? ‘I don’t want to talk about it.’
‘So they have,’ Iannis observed steadily, turning around to look at her.
His eyes were full of concern, and something else…understanding?
Something she had never expected.
A ball of emotion lodged in Charlotte’s throat. In that moment she wanted to tell him everything, share everything, throw her past open to him, let him be her judge… But reality intruded just in time and she bit down hard on her lip and made a flippant gesture with her hand. ‘I’m over it,’ she said dismissively.
‘Tell me more about yourself,’ Iannis insisted, refusing to let her off so lightly. The suggestion of a smile was tugging at his lips as he warned her softly, ‘I’m waiting, and I’m not going anywhere.’
Charlotte made a few false starts, and then became more animated when she found that he really was listening, and smiling into her eyes, as she shared a carefully edited version of her past with him. Her husband had never asked questions, never listened to anything she had to say, never maintained eye contact for longer than a millisecond…
‘So you organised a sit-down strike at school when your favourite dinner lady was sacked?’
He really was listening! ‘She didn’t get her job back.’
‘You tried,’ Iannis remarked softly. ‘And then you climbed out of a window and shinned down the drainpipe to escape from a swimming gala?’
‘Some workmen brought a ladder when I got stuck.’
‘A real rebel!’
There was approval, even humour in his voice. He made it sound like the most wonderful compliment she had ever been paid. Maybe he wasn’t such a dinosaur after all, Charlotte mused, and for a few moments she felt warm and happy. But then she frowned. Why did things have to get complicated? This was only supposed to be a holiday fling—no depth, no consequences. Everyone did it. Why couldn’t she?
Would a holiday fling be enough for her? They had both let their guard down…both forgotten to be mistrustful. There was a harmony and warmth between them that hadn’t existed before. It was dangerous, she recognised. In fact it was the worst thing that could possibly have happened. They shouldn’t be getting to know each other. It was much better…far safer for them both…if Iannis just was. She didn’t want him to take on substance and become someone she cared about. He was supposed to smoulder and deliver—nothing more. Was it already too late for that?
Charlotte cleared her mind for a moment and tried to look at things rationally. But Iannis’s sexual aura was the most potent thing she had ever encountered. It was like being in a force field she wanted to run from, while another part of her never wanted to leave his side—ever. This was madness, she realised.
‘Swim?’
‘Yes!’ Cold water! Fast! Now!
‘Okay,’ Iannis said, holding up his hands palms flat, as if to calm a small child.
‘I’d really like to swim,’ Charlotte said, springing to her feet as she spoke.
Moving away from Iannis as fast as she could, she tugged off her top as she ran, tossing it behind her and pausing only briefly at the water’s edge to rip off her shorts. Maybe the shock of meeting the waves head-on might knock some sense into her, she reasoned—nothing else had helped her so far.