LITMIR.BIZ

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at his resort. This looked homey and friendly—almost like a family place.

      Which it proved to be when they entered.

      Instead of some elegant, quiet, dignified restaurant, this one was huge, boisterous and loud. Families and couples vied for room at the many trestle-style tables. The food was served family style—huge bowls and platters set in the midst of every table from which customers helped themselves.

      They squeezed into a spot near the door and introductions were hastily made, first names only. Two of the men at the table knew Nikos and asked after Spiros. The conversation was lively, the food plain but marvelous. Sara ate her fill in record time. The lamb was tender and flavorful. The vegetables were prepared exactly as she enjoyed. And the crusty Greek bread was delicious. The wine was plentiful, as well, poured from a pitcher.

      “Nothing pretentious here,” she murmured at one point.

      “No. Do you mind?” Nikos asked, leaning closer to better hear her.

      “I’m having the time of my life. This is great.” She almost had to shout to be heard, but she didn’t mind. The lively atmosphere was infectious. She wasn’t sure why his grandfather had urged him to bring her to Patricia, but she was glad they’d come. This was the kind of gathering she and her mother had attended in London whenever there was a celebration. She almost expected to look around and see her mother or one of her friends.

      At nine, several musicians filed onto the small raised platform at the back of the large room and began to play. Immediately couples left the tables for the dance floor to join in the traditional Greek dances. Sara was enchanted. “I didn’t expect this,” she said.

      “It’s a local place, not for tourists. Do you dance?”

      “Some. We had lots of Greek friends in London. Our parents made very sure none of us forgot our heritage. This is a kind of line dance, right?”

      “Right. After this comes a ballos, a couples’ dance.”

      “Ah.” She looked at him with a challenge. “So you do that one?”

      “We do,” he said, holding her gaze.

      Sara could feel the anticipation rise as she stared back. The ballos was a romantic dance—definitely for couples. Had he danced it with Gina? Being Italian, she probably did not know the traditional Greek dances. Whereas Sara, on the other hand, had been schooled well.

      She tore her gaze away and looked at the dancers on the floor. The music made her blood pound—or was it the proximity of Nikos Konstantinos?

      When the next dance began, the crowd greeted the music with a roar of approval. Sara clapped her hands and rose when Nikos did, pleased to show him she knew as much about their heritage as someone raised in Greece.

      The dance was fast and fun. It followed the age-old romance tradition—flirtatious and sassy. Definitely masculine versus feminine role playing. As they whirled and stamped and came together, then parted, Sara laughed in sheer joy. She had loved going to celebrations in the neighborhood. The expatriate Greek community in London had been closely knit. Engagements, weddings, christenings and funerals had brought the entire community together. Of course, there was no dancing at funerals, but other causes to celebrate were embraced with enthusiasm and traditional music and dance.

      When the dance ended, the musicians moved on to another, this one a traditional line dance, with one of the older men from town leading. She and Nikos laughed, danced and shared in the delight of the night.

      It was late when Nikos said it was time to leave. Sara was tired but buoyed up by the exuberant dancing and the friendly locals who had included her as if she’d been born there. Being with Nikos had a lot to do with it, she was sure. They still had the boat ride back to the island.

      The moon had risen, a silvery crescent high in the sky. Once on the boat and heading away from Patricia into the night, Sara glanced around, not seeing anything but stars, moon and sea. She hoped Nikos knew where they were going. He piloted the craft with confidence. She was content to sit back and remember the evening’s frivolity. She glanced at Nikos. This was a side of him she’d never expected—steeped in tradition, reveling in neighbors and casual dining. And dancing with the best of them.

      “I could tell you enjoyed yourself,” he said, once they were on the open sea.

      “It was great fun. I hadn’t expected dancing.”

      “And I didn’t expect you knew our dances.”

      “Why not? I’m as Greek as you. Of course I know them. And more.”

      “Usually we learn them as children.”

      “As did I,” she said, remembering some of the events she and her mother had attended. Then an old memory flashed into her mind. They’d been at a wedding of a friend of her mother’s. When almost the entire group of guests rose to dance, her mother had looked sad, commenting that no one had danced at her wedding.

      Sara gazed across the sea. How much had her mother missed by her impetuous marriage? If her parents had helped her instead of repudiating her, would she have found happiness with another man and married him? She could have had more children, followed a traditional Greek woman’s life. Maybe not lived any longer, but she would have been happier.

      “I’ve dated Greek women who don’t know the dances,” Nikos said.

      She shrugged. Her happiness had faded as she thought about Nikos seeing other women. Yet what would she expect, that he was celibate? He was too dynamic and involved with life not to date and enjoy the companionship of others. It wasn’t as if she had any special claim.

      Nikos guided the boat by rote. He’d traveled from Patricia to the island many times and could probably find his way home blindfolded. He felt wide-awake after the dancing. Sara’s expertise had surprised him. Ariana had not enjoyed dancing—at least not their traditional Greek dances, which were fast and strenuous. She had preferred going to modern nightclubs.

      He no longer cared about Ariana. She’d made sure of that when he’d discovered her lies. Any feelings he’d felt for her had shattered. Trust was too fragile to repair once it had been broken. So why did he use her to compare other women to? As a reminder of treachery and betrayal? Or as a barrier against falling for someone else? Love made a man foolish. He was beyond that time of his youth, though seeing his grandparents again had him wishing for more in life than the suitable marriage to someone like Gina Fregulia. Was he in danger of changing his views on marriage?

      He glanced at Sara. She seemed pensive.

      “What are you thinking?” he asked. He expected tiredness, but at least a happier face as she remembered the evening.

      “Sad thoughts,” she said, turning toward him. The faint light from the control panel didn’t illuminate her face at this angle. She was in shadow, with only the light of the moon showing her silhouette.

      “After the dancing we did? Impossible.” Unless she regretted the evening coming to an end. He did. He could dance with Sara all night.

      “I was thinking of one of the wedding festivities we attended when I was younger. My mother had almost cried when she spoke of no one dancing at her wedding.”

      “Didn’t she have a traditional Greek wedding?”

      Sara shook her head. Nikos wondered why she hadn’t. Sara didn’t speak much about her family. Only to say that her father had left them when she was very young and her mother had died last year. What had it been like growing up in London? She spoke perfect Greek, knew their dances, the food. Obviously, her mother had wanted to maintain the connection. Yet she had no other relatives. Why had her parents moved to England? Why not stay in Greece and forge ties with neighbors to aid the small family?

      Sara had started out intriguing him. The more time they spent together, the more she fascinated him. It wasn’t only the physical attraction, though he enjoyed kissing her, touching her, feeling her warmth against him. He wouldn’t mind a closer connection,

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