“All right,” he said with a wry smile. “I’ll think about it.”
“You’ve been thinking about it for years. When are you going to do something?”
The smile turned to a bark of laughter. “God, you’re as bad as a snapping turtle.”
“Turtles nag?”
“The old saying is that if a snapping turtle bites you, it won’t turn loose until it hears thunder.”
She tilted her head. “I don’t think I’ve heard thunder since we’ve been here.”
“I know we haven’t. Okay, I promise I’ll call my kids.”
“And-?”
“And tell them I know I was a lousy father, but ask would they hate it if I saw them more often?” He made it a question, as if he wasn’t certain that was the correct answer, but his blue eyes were dancing.
She clapped her hands, like someone applauding a performing child.
“Smart-ass.” He was laughing aloud now, getting to his feet and taking her hand to pull her up and into his arms. “I was going to show you something special tonight, but now I think you’ll just get the same old, same old.”
If he thought that was punishment, he was way off target. Lily hid a smile as she pressed her face into his shoulder. She loved him so much she would enjoy her time with him down to the last minute, and not worry about whether or not he took this job his friend Frank wanted him to take. Wasn’t that part of what she’d just been talking to him about, making the most of your time with the people you love, because you don’t know how long that time will be?
She wouldn’t think how unlucky she was to love him and lose him. Instead she would consider herself lucky for having met him at a time in her life when she had needed him so much.
The next day was another unusually sunny day, with the temperature warming as rapidly as it cooled down at night By April, the daytime temperature would be in the nineties; by July, soaring over a hundred wouldn’t be unusual. But the weather in early January was pleasant, if sometimes a bit rainy, especially when compared to Paris at this time of year.
Chrisoula prepared them a lunch of meat patties, flavored with herbs and fried in olive oil, served on saffron rice. They ate on the terrace, enjoying the weather. Because the stones of the terrace reflected the sun’s heat, Lily wore a loose, gauzy white dress that she’d bought in town, though she had a shawl nearby in case she needed it. She liked being able to wear whatever she wanted without having to worry about whether it concealed her ankle holster, and she had embraced the island’s tourist fashions with enthusiasm. The locals probably thought she was crazy for wearing summer fashions in January, but she didn’t care. She wanted to wear sandals, and she had bought a silver anklet that made her feel feminine and carefree. She might stay on Ewoia even if Swain left, she thought. She loved it here.
“Who was your handler?” he asked abruptly, telling her that his thoughts had been far different from her lazy enjoyment of the day. “The guy who got you into the business. What was his name?”
“Mr. Rogers,” she said, smiling ironically.
He almost choked on his wine.
“He never gave me his first name, but you can bet it wasn’t Fred. It doesn’t matter; I doubt that was his real name anyway. Why are you asking?”
“I was watching you and thinking how young you look, and wondering what kind of bastard could approach a kid with a job like that”
“The kind who gets the job done, regardless.”
After lunch she napped on one of the chaises on the terrace, and woke to incredible pleasure brought by Swain’s tongue. He had lifted her skirt to her waist and removed her underwear and knelt with his head between her spread thighs. lily gasped, her body arching in delight even as she choked, “Chrisoula will see-”
“She left a few minutes ago,” Swain murmured, and gently slipped two of his fingers into her. She climaxed rapidly under that double stimulation, and was still quivering with the last spasms when he loosened his pants and covered her with his body. His penetration was smooth and slow, the fit perfect now after making love so many times during the past month. He was tender and attentive, holding off until she had climaxed a second time, then going deep and holding himself there while he shuddered with his own release.
Making love alfresco was wonderful, she thought after they had tidied themselves and she was once more completely dressed. The air had felt like silk on her skin, heightening her response. She stretched, utterly relaxed, and smiled at Swain when he brought over their glasses of wine. She took hers and he sat down on the chaise beside her legs, his warm hand sliding under her skirt to lazily caress her thigh.
“Why did Chrisoula leave so early?” she asked as she sipped the fragrant wine, thinking she hadn’t slept that long. Chrisoula hadn’t had time to prepare their dinner.
“She wanted to go to the market for something. I think.” Swain smiled. “Either that or a pig was on top of her house.”
“I’m betting it was the market.” Sometimes their attempts at communication had laughable results, but Swain threw himself into it with enthusiasm.
“Probably.” His stroking hand had worked its way down to her ankle. He played with the silver anklet, then lifted her foot and pressed a kiss to her ankle. “We could be having the pig for dinner, though, so we’ll see how far off I was in my translation.”
“What do you want to do for the rest of the afternoon?” she asked, finishing her wine and setting the glass aside. She didn’t know that she would be able to move a muscle. Two orgasms had left her bones feeling like butter. She hated to waste such a gorgeous day, though, so if he wanted to go into Rarystos, she would make the effort.