Things didn’t add up. She had had plenty of opportunity to “siphon” pieces from the dig, but every piece had been properly cataloged and stored. Was she being overly cautious, knowing he was on site? Did she suspect him of not being a Project Director?
“Alex?”
He spun around, hand going to his hip for the pistol that wasn’t there. He scowled, chiding himself at being caught off-guard. Francie stepped backward, her eyes wide, her arms held out in front of her for protection.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt anything,” she insisted.
Alex forced his facial muscles to relax. It wouldn’t do to frighten her. “I’m the one who should apologize,” he assured her. “My mind was elsewhere, and I was frustrated with myself for not paying attention. How can I help you?”
Instead of answering his question, she tilted her head to one side. Her brown eyes focused on him, her brows dipping in thought. “Why would it be so awful to let your mind wander? When people stop to think, it’s usually because they’re looking for a solution to a problem. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
He couldn’t stop the laugh that erupted. The sound was foreign to him. How long had it been since he had allowed himself to let go and enjoy himself in someone’s company? “Such a philosopher. You’re in the right place for that.”
She colored. “I’m no Socrates.”
“Perhaps not, but your words are wise, nonetheless. What was it you wanted?”
“Oh! I came to let you know that several of us are going into Parikia for dinner and drinks. It’s Saturday, so Dimitri has the night off, and he’s still recovering. Would you like to join us?”
Here was a chance to observe Francie in a larger social setting. Perhaps she would slip off and meet one of her contacts. “That sounds like fun. When will you leave?”
“In about an hour. See you then,” she added, backing away.
“Francie.”
She turned, raising a questioning brow.
“Thank you for inviting me,” he said softly.
He noticed she rubbed her upper arms, as if to ward off a chill. “You’re welcome. See you later.” She turned then and scooted away.
So, I still disturb her, he thought.
He ran a hand through his hair. But not nearly as much as she disturbs me.
****
Alex nursed his drink, not allowing the wine to dull his senses. His tiny table, set on the stone-paved street, wobbled a bit each time he set his arm down. Every few minutes he raised the glass, pretending to drink. His eyes searched for her again, even as he cursed himself for it.
Most of the crew had gone into town for the evening. Only Dimitri and the professor had stayed behind. The group chose a restaurant facing the beach and settled into the comfortable rattan chairs. Yannis and Jane sat apart from the rest, their heads close together, oblivious to anyone but each other.
The restaurant offered entertainment as well as good food. Just inside the doorway, a younger man played the guitar, while an older gentleman played a traditional Greek stringed instrument called a bouzouki. A group of costumed dancers began to move to the music. Standing side by side, they linked hands and stepped to the lively music. Soon others joined in, laughing and cheering as they danced. Alex's pulse leaped as he recognized a familiar figure join in. Her eyes shone with delight and her lovely cocoa-brown hair bounced in time with the music. He was staring, but he couldn’t look away.
****
Francie fought to keep her expression cheerful as she danced. He was staring at her again. She hadn’t looked at him, but she knew his dark eyes were directed her way. It had been the same at the Appolon Grill in Athens. Somehow, whenever he turned her way, the heat behind his gaze seared her like a brand.
She stumbled, but righted herself quickly. The Syrto was a dance her yaya had patiently taught her long ago, and her feet moved automatically, giving her mind the freedom to wonder about the hold the man had on her.
He was such an enigma. He was not averse to hard work and always pitched in where needed. At dinner, he had been a gentleman, making pleasant conversation with everyone. But now he held himself apart. Why? Didn’t he like to have a good time? He’d grown up on an island not far away, so he surely must know the steps.
The music paused, and the dancers waited as an elderly gentleman made his way to the head of the men’s line. His gait was slow and unsteady, but his face was determined. She saw the doubtful looks on the faces of the other dancers, but tradition dictated the eldest person would lead the dance, and the rest had to follow. Would this man be up to the task?
And then he was there. Alex stood next to the old man, but instead of linking hands, he wrapped his right arm around the man’s frail body, holding him upright. The other men wordlessly fell into place beside Alex, and the musicians began again. The line moved, Alex supporting the patriarch’s weight with one arm. Up and down the street they went, cheers and applause coming from those not dancing. The music soared, and the old man's wide, toothless smile tugged at Francie’s heart.
When the dance was over, Alex guided the man back to his seat in the tavern. Several of the villagers patted his shoulder in acknowledgement. A woman pressed a huge piece of baklava, wrapped in a napkin, into his hands.
“Efharisto. Thank you,” she whispered to him before she returned to her seat beside the old man.
Alex Leonidis was a special man. But he was Greek, he was powerful, and he was charming. Francie knew if she weren’t careful, she’d fall in love again…with another wrong man. Doing so would be sheer stupidity.
Too bad her heart didn’t want to listen.
****
“Professor! Look!”
Seven hat-covered heads rose at Francie’s call. She remained on her haunches, swiping at the dirt with both gloved hands. As the dirt fell away, a solid piece remained, a small ceramic bowl with two handles. As Francie gingerly lifted the piece from its resting place, there were several gasps of awe among the group.
Professor Theo was the first to speak. His voice was little more than a whisper, as if speaking aloud would be improper.
“It’s in perfect condition. What an incredible find!”
Alex moved slowly toward the huddle, but instead of looking at the discovery, he focused on the people surrounding it. His eyes missed nothing. If the bowl disappeared, he wanted to remember every look, every nuance, every word. If there was a partnership of any kind, he had to know.
“This is indeed a remarkable find, Francie,” the professor repeated. “This is wonderful!”
The rest of the group added their congratulations, and after the piece was properly cataloged and the exact location of the find was noted, everyone went back to work. Alex kept his eyes focused on the woman who had haunted his every waking moment. If this piece was “lost” like the necklace and coin, he could solve the case. Part of him wanted her to make her move so he could wrap up this entire investigation, another part of him cried out for her to be innocent. If she was guilty, he would not be able to pursue a relationship with her. If she was innocent, she might not forgive him for suspecting her. If she found out.
He shook his head, amazed and annoyed at the turn his thoughts had taken. A relationship? Impossible! He had no business even considering it. She was first and foremost a suspect. It was best if he remembered that.