Surrender: The Greek Affair Series Book One (5 page)

She laughs a nervous giggle. “It’s ok. I was absent-minded. You just took me by surprise. Yes, I’ve had enough. Time for some sleep.”

“Can I give you a lift?”

She looks into his gorgeous face and is tempted to accept, but she knows she should not. She is determined that she does not want any kind of encounter with this man.

“Thank you, but the taxi will be here in a few minutes.”

“As you wish, but it’s not a problem for me”

She looks at him and smiles and thanks him again, but declines his offer. “I’ll be ok”

As she looks into his god like face she is momentarily tempted, but she thinks better of it.

Chapter Five

Hope wakes up after an alcohol induced sleep. It is about 10 am. Crap! She has lost the morning. Really pissed off with herself, but then she realises she had not got in till about 3am. She makes herself a strong double Greek coffee, puts some smooth Greek yogurt in a small bowl topped with the thyme honey that this island produces in abundance. (It is the best yogurt in the world, with the best honey for the best breakfast ambrosia, after a late night.) She takes it and settles on her verandah to recover from her sleepy state.

As she sits and takes in the beauty of the sea, the sky and the landscape with the fortress on her left, the sea in front of her and more sea on her right, she takes a deep breath and wonders at the beauty of this place; a beauty that is a visual wonder and tugs at her heart strings. In fact, it makes her drunk in a way that alcohol never can. She wishes she could physically hug this environment. She could taste it, smell it and even feel it with her body. It is one of the most erotic feelings she has experienced outside a physical orgasm, and with that she chastises herself as to why she feels so guilty for sleeping in. She has this innate, built-in guilt about all things pleasurable, but has no affiliation with any religion that would make her feel such guilt. It is strange. She is not a practising Greek Orthodox either, but even if she were, Greek culture had embraced so much from its pagan heritage that there is very little room for guilt intellectually, as it has not embraced the “original sin” as such. She suspects the guilt is just hers – related to the need to control her surroundings, to keep order in a life that never had any order.

She watches the sea with the morning sun sparkling on it, making the blue sea look silver. A yacht is sailing in the distance, about to disappear behind the hill that housed the fortress on its way to the port, and she savours the peace and tells herself to simply enjoy! To sleep in, to relax, to detoxify emotionally, loosen up and try and be happy – a concept that has thus far eluded her!

She thinks of Jason and feels tingly, to think that a beautiful young man would take the time to talk to her, let alone offer her a lift and she tries to look at all the positive elements around her. She could worry about life’s crap when she got back to Athens and into reality!

Meanwhile, she packs up her beach bag, locks up and meanders out to walk to the beach she went to almost everyday, whilst she stayed on the island. Hope has a disciplined routine. The coastline of the island is scattered with sandy beaches. When one arrives by aeroplane there is a spectacular view of the light yellow sand, zig zagging the coastline. It is a heady sight and for her, always an emotional one; there are so many beaches. The majority of them are out in wonderful wild places and access to them is either by dirt road, or by boat. Once there, the beach can be private with a crystal azure shimmering sea, where one can see the very bottom of the seabed, no matter how deep.

As she meanders down the deserted road, she takes the walk at her leisure, to get to the beach she loved most. It takes approximately fifteen minutes, on the same road as her house. She passes a small peninsula that separates her neighbourhood from her favourite beach. There she would lie most of the day.

This small peninsula housed an army building. Hope had not worked out if it was a social club, headquarters, or just another office and she really doesn’t care that much. All she knows is that whenever she walks past there, there were young men in uniform guarding the gated entrance and often officers and soldiers coming in and out.

Today was no exception. As she walks past the gate she sees the soldiers and she sees him! He is inside the gates, dressed in khakis, that made him so delectable! He is talking to what seemed to be one of the officers and her breathing quickens, She picks up her pace to avoid him seeing her. But Jason appears to feel her presence and turns towards her while continuing his conversation and he looks at her with an impassive look. He follows her with his eyes for a few fleeting moments, and then turns his head back, to face the man he is talking to.

“Christ! What is the matter with me? I don’t like this feeling. It’s alien to me and I’m not allowed to feel this way.”

She concedes that he is hot, very hot! And she is only human after all. Every time she sees him she sees more of what he is and what he looks like. Tall, slim and from what she can gather, a well kept body; a body that exercises.

He has a mesmerising glance with bottle green eyes, and way beyond his years, he has an air of confidence that comes with living and maturing - and yet, he is so young! But it’s what she can’t see that is fascinating, or what he doesn’t want her to see.

It’s one of the unsettling things about her. She can see inside people and at the same time is capable of shutting them out. It’s even unsettling to her!

She quickens her pace to get away. But, get away from what?

The road belongs to everyone. She is not intruding, nor is she going past the gate to see him. She had not even known that he was there.

Why does she have such low self-esteem? Why does she imagine she would stand out in some negative way? Why? She has always been confident with summer throw-away affairs, so why is she reacting like this now?

Over the rise in the road, she is just in sight of what she considered to be her personal beach. (“It is mine no matter who else is there.”) The people here were her entire beach “family” and they all kept her company in her silent self. She finds a favourite spot and lays out her wicker mat and towel. She always gets restless in a beach lounge-chair; she likes the heat of the sand and the way it moulds into her body. She takes her shorts and top off. She has a bikini on underneath, and she lays face-down and immediately, feels the relief on her shoulders and neck from the heat of the sun. Ahhhh!!! Paradise!

She is not sure how long she has lain there, but she has not had a swim yet, because she needed her body to get warm and detoxify. It is almost like she is in a trance. But she is suddenly brought back to reality by the feeling of someone sitting next to her.

“Hey, Hope, you’re back,
kaló kalokéri
(good summer).”

“Hi Gianni, nice to see you still on the island. Thought you said you were leaving?” Hope sat up and it is then she saw a blonde, Northern European woman next to him.

“Hope, this is Anika. Anika, Hope.” They both take their sunglasses off and shake hands.

“Pleased to meet you Anika.”

“Same.”

Chapter Six

Jason sees her sitting on the short wall of stone, right on the spot where he first saw her, but he comes looking for her this time. She is wearing a short grey skirt above the knee and a sleeveless white blouse and sandals, her colour from the sun is getting deeper, her face is scrubbed clean except for some lipstick on her full lips. Her auburn curls now have random lighter shades from the sun, and she looks so young. There is a divide between her looks and her demeanour. She is not drawing today or handling a camera. Rather, she is sitting, gazing into the distance of the sea towards the Holy Mountain, Mount Athos. There is an aura about her that is spiritual. Jason looks at her and he knows at this moment that this woman is in love with her surroundings. He hesitates before approaching her, debating if this would be the right time, but then he gives in to his needs, and hopes that they are hers too. He is nervous. He is fiddling with his cigarette and knows he must butt out before he approaches her, but he feels he needs this poisonous fix, to allow him to take up the nerve to speak to her.

Hope senses him approaching and she turns her body to see him. It’s early, about six pm, and the sun is still up. She sees him treading on his cigarette butt, she can only see his outline as the sun’s reflection is interfering. But she can see his gait as he walks towards her. His steps are sleek and confident with the grace of a panther. He is wearing army khakis. And this is stolen time for him. He covers the distance in long gracious strides and soon he is standing next to her. Hope looks up at him and sees his voracious green eyes on her, and he asks without smiling, pointing to the space beside her.

“May I?”

She shrugs and looks at him directly into his eyes and says nonchalantly, “It’s not my wall.” She realises she is very nervous and it was a very immature thing to say.

He sits next to her, on her right, not too close, but just close enough so she can feel his strong presence. She can almost touch him, she can smell his male fragrance (not after-shave), just him.

She tells herself he is off-limits. What does she say to him? He is sitting there saying nothing and she’s lost, lost for words and just lost as to why this man is making himself so present in her life. She feels like a teenager, although truth be told she has no idea what it feels like to be a teenager without responsibilities, as she found herself married young and a mother soon after. So she takes the adult high road and speaks first.

“I get the feeling that not all our meetings are accidental.” She turns and looks at him. They are now facing each other.

He looks into her hazel eyes. “No, you’re right. They are not.” He says, feeling lost in her gaze, his heart thumping in his chest.

She looks harder without speaking for a few beats. “Why?”

“You fascinate me, I can’t help but wonder at your solitude.”

“How do you know about my solitude?”

“It’s not hard to see. You are always here alone. You go to the beach alone and you eat alone.”

Hope is a little taken aback by his knowledge of her movements and she looks at his beautiful face, now staring at her with those pools of dark green, and wonders what a poet would have said about his eyes.

“How do you know all this about me?”

“It’s an island. Everybody knows things about everybody else, and you are not a figure that goes unnoticed.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning that you stand out and I’m not the only one who has noticed you.”

Hope’s brain goes into overdrive. What does that mean? “What are you saying, that I’m an island landmark?”

He laughs in a beautiful raspy tone, making him even sexier.

“You’re an attractive woman on your own. Of course you will be noticed! What did you expect? And the fact that you’re on your own makes you stand out even more, eh! The provinces and gossip…. if you’re trying to be anonymous you’re going about it all wrong.”

His body is still turned towards her and she notices that gaze. It is full of heat and admiration, and at the same time it makes her wonder if that is the way he is with everyone, as she has no business to believe that this gaze could possibly be for her alone. She never thinks to ask him what he does at this time every afternoon in khakis, and in an army jeep. He finds her sitting on the retaining wall.

He gets up and readies himself to leave and she feels an overwhelming loneliness take over; she likes his company. He is a man, mature beyond his years, and even though they only spend about ten minutes together during these interludes, she is beginning to warm to him, even outside his devastating filmstar looks.

“I must go. I’m on duty. I’ll see you here tomorrow.”

She is not sure if this was a question, as it sounded more like a request. He gets up to go, but he moves closer, looking at her without speaking. She feels his warmth radiating, he takes his time looking at her, unsettling her, taking her to places she doesn’t want to go. He turns and goes. She’s flustered and as she watches him leave, she knows this is not about her. He has never asked her for a phone number, to try to make a coffee date, the norm for “a get to know” meet up. Once again, she tries to put him, his beautiful face and what she suspects is a very strong and well looked after body under that uniform, out of her mind.