Chapter Thirty

THEY’D BARELY FINISHED DINNER when several of the waiters pushed empty tables aside in the center of the dining area to create a dance floor.

Music sounded from a pair of speakers. A group of men and women dressed in traditional costumes came out, bowed, and began a Santorini folk dance.

The restaurant patrons clapped their approval, and Acacia turned her chair so she could have a better view.

She glanced at Nicholas. Instead of watching the dancers, he was watching her.

When the first song ended, the performers approached the patrons and invited them to join the next dance. Acacia waved off the young man who spoke to her.

“You should dance,” Nicholas suggested.

“I don’t think so.”

“Why not?” He looked at her feet, which were tapping against the floor. “You can barely sit still.”

“I don’t want some man I don’t know touching me.”

Nicholas gave her a curious look. “There is another option.”

Acacia looked at the dancers and patrons lining up together, arms around one another’s shoulders. “I can’t dance in these shoes.”

“That’s easily fixed.” Nicholas threw his napkin on the table and crouched in front of her.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Removing your shoes.”

Discreetly, Nicholas lifted Acacia’s foot and undid the strap around her ankle. He slipped off the bronze sandal and placed it aside. Then he repeated the procedure on her other foot.

He stood and offered his hand. “Let’s go.”

She hesitated, but then the music started, and she took his hand. He led her to the line of dancers and positioned her between a female dancer and himself.

Acacia’s shoulders were bare in her pale purple dress. When Nicholas rested his arm across them, she felt a prickle of heat. Then they danced, mirroring the steps of the professionals as the music began slowly and increased its tempo.

Acacia could dance. She had innate rhythm and loved to move to music. She was amused as she watched Nicholas, who was a head and shoulders taller than everyone else, gamely trying to lift his long legs to keep step.

She smiled, she giggled, and she laughed until her eyes watered. It was so much fun. Almost the entire restaurant joined in the celebration.

When the dance was over, Acacia hugged the young woman at her side. Nicholas did the same. Then she looked up at him.

He’d been laughing and smiling too, but he grew contemplative.

She looked down at her brightly painted toes. “Thank you. You’re a good sport.”

He wove their fingers together and led her back to the table, where he helped her with her shoes. “Do you want to stay?”

“No.” She gazed longingly at the sea. The sun had slipped just below the horizon. “I wouldn’t mind a walk.”

“I’ll settle up.” He waved over a waiter and quickly paid the bill.

“We can walk along the cliffs. There’s a pedestrian path.” They climbed the stairs that led to the Jeep, as Rick and Kurt followed close behind. Before they reached the parking area, Nicholas took a left turn.

“What do you call that?” He nodded vaguely at her dress.

“Call what?” She smoothed her skirt.

“The material at the bottom of your outfit.”

In concert, they looked down.

Acacia laughed. “That’s a ruffle.”

“I like it.”

“It’s meant to be flirtatious.”

Nicholas lifted their conjoined hands and kissed her knuckles. “And are you?”

“Am I what?”

“Flirtatious?”

“When I want to be.”

Nicholas groaned, as if her answer pained him.

They walked slowly and admired the streaks of orange, pink, and purple that still lit the sky.

The wind began to rise and blew Acacia’s curls across her face. She tried tucking them behind her ears unsuccessfully and finally gave up.

At the top of a staircase, Nicholas stopped and removed the navy linen jacket he’d worn to dinner. He placed it around her bare shoulders. “There.” He pulled the lapels together, as if that would offer additional warmth.

She smiled up at him. “You noticed I was cold.”

“I notice everything about you.” He stood with his back to the sea and held her hand.

She looked down at their connection. It was a little thing—one set of fingers clasping another. But it was thrilling and comforting and strangely natural, given how little they knew one another. It was as if their hands had become acquainted long ago and were pleased at being reunited.

“What are you passionate about?” She lifted her gaze to his face. He watched her intently.

Nicholas’s hands moved with hers, bringing her next to him, against the whitewashed concrete barrier that stood on the side of the cliff.

She frowned. “Perhaps my question was too intimate. I’m sorry.”

“It wasn’t, no,” Nicholas responded. “You surprised me. There’s one question I’ve been expecting, but as ever, you are most unexpected. In the best sense.”

“What’s the question?”

He gave her a half-smile. “If it hasn’t occurred to you, I’ll let it be.

“I used to be passionate about tennis, my work, my circle of friends. I’m afraid all those passions have given way to family concerns.” His smile faded.

“Can I ask about your sister?”

“She was intelligent and funny. She was passionate about art. She always wanted to curate the gallery, even when she was a little girl.”

“She must have been very gifted.”

A fond expression came over Nicholas’s face. “She was. I had a mind for numbers and problem solving. She had a mind for beauty. In many ways, she was closer to my parents than I was.”

Nicholas exhaled slowly and looked down at Acacia. “Do you think if someone does the right thing for the wrong reason, the action is still right?”

“That sounds like a question for a prophet.”

“What about doing the wrong thing for the right reason?” His eyes focused on hers.

“That question is easier to answer. I think it’s clear that wrong actions are wrong, even if you have good intentions.”

“Why?” He came a step closer.

She took a deep breath. “Because the rhetoric of racists, terrorists, and those that commit genocide always claims good intentions. The woman from Lyon claims to love France and wants to keep it strong. So she’s determined to keep foreigners out. In the Rwandan conflict, the factions claimed to want to protect themselves. So they killed the men, women, and children of the other side.”

Acacia shook her head. “Perhaps the real problem with the world is self-deception. People have evil intentions, believing them to be good.”

Nicholas was silent. He drew her into his side and placed his arm around her shoulder. Together, they watched the light colors darken and fade from the sky.

Nicholas drove back to the villa, taking his time down the dark, winding roads.

When they reached their destination, he placed his hands on Acacia’s waist and lifted her to the ground. She touched his chest to steady herself.

“I have to make a few phone calls.” His face was rueful. “Thank you for today.”

“Thank you. I had fun.”

He lifted his hand to push the curls out of her face. “You didn’t wear your head scarf.”

She touched her hair frantically. “Is it a mess?”

“No. It’s gorgeous.”

She lowered her gaze. “I should give you your jacket.”

She tried to remove the item but Nicholas stopped her. “I’ll get it from you tomorrow.”

He glanced over his shoulder. Rick and Kurt stood by the door to the villa.

Nicholas made an unhappy sound.

He touched her forehead, just the barest brush of the edge of his thumb, and stepped back. “I’m afraid they’ll have to scan us in case we picked up any surveillance devices.”

“All right.”

“Good night, ma—” He gritted his teeth and cut off the last word.

Before Acacia could respond, he turned and strode away.

“Good night,” she called to his retreating back.