The Divided Child by Ekaterine Nikas Page B

Feeling
the betraying prick of tears at the back of my eyes I kept my response to a
minimum.   “No.”
                “Is
that why you came to Greece?” he asked.
                Startled
by his insight, I nodded.   "After that meeting with my father, my life felt like a
kaleidoscope I couldn’t twist back into focus.   After a while, I gave up.   I called my boss and told him I was taking all my saved-up
vacation time, then I caught a cab for the airport and bought a ticket on the
first flight to Greece.”
                "And
here you are," Geoffrey said in a low voice.
                "Here
I am," I agreed softly, suddenly more aware of the intoxicating warmth
tingling up my arm from his touch than the hurt that just a moment ago had
seemed so raw.   “But I think I may
have had too much to drink.”
                He
shook his head.   “You know it’s not
the wine.”
                I
gazed at him helplessly but was saved from having to reply by the headwaiter,
who sidled up to the table to inform us the dining room was about to
close.   Geoffrey reached out for
the bill.   I stopped him.   "Let me get it."
                "But
I invited you," he protested.
                I
shook my head.   "It wouldn't
be fair for you to pay for both dinners, and it's my fault our other one went
to waste."
                "I
recall a certain comment about it 'serving me right' to pay for both
meals," he reminded me.
                "Please,
Geoffrey, I’ve changed my mind."
                His
teasing grin faded.   "I’ll
have to watch out.   When you look at
me like that, it’s difficult to refuse you anything.   Very well.   I'll
let you pay -- on one condition."
                "What?"
                "You
promise to dine with me again before you leave Corfu."
                "All
right, I promise," I said with exaggerated reluctance.
                As
we got up to leave, Geoffrey thanked me for dinner and then slid a possessive
arm around my waist as we started for the door.   We were halfway there when his grip tightened.   "Angus!" he exclaimed.
                "What?"
                "The
letter in your purse,” he said, “it was signed 'Angus'.   It was from your father, wasn't
it?"
                "Yes,"
I admitted tensely.
                He
started to smile, then caught himself and stopped.
                "I'm
glad you find the idea amusing."
                "Not
amusing, Christine, merely a relief.   I thought 'Angus' was some
    ex-lover you were pining over."
                "Hmmm,"
I murmured, my anger mollified.   "And if he had been?"
                His
mouth twisted crookedly.   "I
would have considered it my duty to help you forget him, of course."   His tone was light and teasing, but the
expression in his eyes could have lit any number of small fires.
                We
walked out toward the lobby, and he offered to drive me back to my hotel.   I declined the offer, reminding him he
was already late for his meeting with Robert Humphreys.
                He
turned to face me.   "You
haven't yet told me what you and Robert discussed this afternoon."
                Suddenly
uncomfortable, I shrugged.   "I
told him about yesterday.   He
seemed a bit startled when I said you didn't believe it was an accident."  
                "Startled?”
Geoffrey said.   “Or
disbelieving?   No, don't bother to
answer.   I think I can guess.   I suppose he told you about my
brother?"
                I
nodded.   "Why didn't you tell
me?"
                "And
if I had?" he said grimly.   “What would you have thought of my credibility then?"   His gaze locked with mine.   "What do you think of it
now?"
                "Geoffrey,
I know it must be