AS NICK LEFT the café, his phone rang. He checked it and cursed. “Alexander?” His breath left his lungs with a whoosh, blood pumping in his temples. He bolted for his car. In the car park, he ran past Angie who was about to climb into her red sports car.
She looked up. “You’re in a hurry,” she called after him.
Nick stopped at his car, keys in hand. “My father’s been taken to hospital.”
“Oh, Nick.” Her eyes filled with sympathy. “I am sorry.”
“I have to go.”
“Let me know how he is, will you please?”
“Sure.” He jumped in and gunned the motor, dreading what he’d find at the hospital. Stopping at a red light, he banged on the wheel with his fist. He wasn’t ready for this. It was too soon!
Connected to a drip, Pop looked small and frail in the hospital bed, his eyes closed.
Nick spoke to the doctor in the corridor outside his father’s room.
“We’ve had a bit of a setback, Mr. Alexander,” the concerned man said. “Your father is growing weaker.”
Words Nick rejected out of hand. His father was a fighter. “I was told to expect him to be around for at least another six months,” Nick said biting off the words in his frustration. Unfair to expect this doctor to create a miracle, but still he did.
The doctor shrugged. “Hard to put a time frame on it. People react differently to the drugs. We’ll try and get him stabilized.”
When a nurse came in to check on his father, Nick left the room and called the station. He could no longer hide his father’s illness. He hung up surprised by the response. He’d been put on loudspeaker while everyone joined in to express their concern and their hopes that his Dad would rally. Angie had been right. Despite his earlier fears, telling the guys about it had proved cathartic. His father was popular at the station and most said they would come to see him. Pop always brought a box of his home-grown produce when he came to visit him at work.
Nick took a deep breath; the tight band of fear hadn’t gone, but it had eased a little. He returned to the room and sat beside his father’s bed. He leaned back in the chair and crossed his ankles as he waited for his father to open his blue eyes, which had always been so full of the joy of life.
“Nicky,” his dad murmured sleepily.
“I’m here, Pop.” Nick leaned forward to take his father’s calloused hand in his. An old man’s hand. He’d never noticed that before.
“What about that nice girl?”
He managed a grin. “What nice girl, Pop?”
“The pretty one, Angie. Are you still seeing her?” He smiled. “I liked her.”
“Saw her today, Pop.” Nick swallowed the lump blocking his throat.
“Keep it up.” His father drifted off.
* * *
Angie dreaded going back to the house. The air had been thick enough to cut when she’d left.
Poor Nick, he’d looked distraught. She prayed his dad would get better, at least for a while.” Losing a parent left a big hole in your life that could never be filled.
Paul wasn’t home at least. Dany was in the studio working on a new canvas, bold strokes of bright color.
“Hi, Angel.” She sounded remarkably cheerful.
Hew rose from the cane chair. A small table was spread with his papers. “Angie.” He sounded jubilant. “The exhibition just closed its doors. All paintings sold.”
“Congratulations. That’s such good news!”
“Isn’t it?” Dany’s eyes brimmed with excitement as she dashed paint onto a canvas.
“I’ll leave you two to talk.” Hew gathered up pens, papers and his iPhone from the table. “I have calls to make.”
“Don’t go, Hew,” Dany said with a scowl. “I want to celebrate. Will you take us to the Newport Arms for a drink? I feel like champagne and oysters.”
Angie narrowed her eyes at her sister. Dany was still avoiding talking to her.
Hew stood at the door. “Angie doesn’t look too enthused.”
“I’d like a few moments with Dany, Hew. If you don’t mind, thanks.”
“Right.” He turned to walk down the path.
“Oh, Ang. Let me enjoy this moment, please!”
Dany’s disappointed grumble made Angie feel mean. “We’ll have that talk later then. You two deserve to celebrate. This exhibition must be a great boost to your career. I’ve just eaten lunch. I’ll get some writing done.”
Angie walked back into the house, wishing she had Dany’s knack of blotting out her fears. She took out her cell and called Nick.
“Alexander.”
“How’s your dad, Nick?”
“Hang on Angie, I’ll just go outside.” Moments later he came on again. “They’re having some success stabilizing him. There’s talk that he might come home in a few days. Didn’t want him to hear. I don’t want his hopes up if it doesn’t happen.”
“Sounds hopeful, Nick.”
“Thanks for ringing, Angie. I appreciate it.”
“That’s okay. Are you hanging in there?”
“I’m okay, thanks.”
She hung up and stared at her phone. Nick’s voice sounded strained. He might appreciate company. She rang him straight back. “Are you staying at the hospital tonight? Or would you like some company for dinner.”
“Just a moment. I’ll put you on loudspeaker.” She heard the swish of the door as he walked back into his father’s room. “Pop, Angie has just asked me to dinner. What do you think?”
“Go for it, son,” she heard Mr. Alexander say. “If you don’t, I will!”
Nick gave a soft chuckle. “I’ll ring you back, Angie.”
Twenty minutes later, Nick rang. “Pop’s doing well. Coming home in a day or so, Angie,” he said, sounding more cheerful. “I’ll pick you up at seven.”
“No, I’ll drive down. I want to get something from the store. Where’s the restaurant? I’ll meet you there after seven.”
Gaining the address of a restaurant on the seafront, she hung up.
What was she doing? She wasn’t thinking, just reacting through pure emotion. It wasn’t like her, but that didn’t seem to matter anymore.
* * *
A candle in a Chianti bottle on the table cast Angie’s pretty face in soft light. The restaurant lighting was subdued, casting shadows over the room, which was brightened with splashes of color from bright tablecloths and pictures of the Greek Isles hung on the walls. In the corner, a man played Never on Sunday on a balalaika.
“I hope you feel like Greek food.” He gave a shrug of apology but couldn’t help grinning. Pop had said the restaurant was romantic. “Pop asked me to bring you here. The owner is a friend of his.”
“You know I like Greek food. But I’m happy with anything except Chinese.” Angie’s large grey eyes were warm. “The music is wonderful.”
His gaze drank her in. She looked stunning tonight. The white dress left her shoulders bare, and a necklace of turquoise and gold hung around her neck. Her hair was a pale bob brushing her shoulders, her smooth skin dusted with honey. “You’ve caught a bit of sun.”
“I swim every day. I prefer the beach, but the ocean’s too cold now.” She laughed. “I thought you might be a lifesaver the first time I met you.”
“Actually, I am a member of the Life Saving Club.” He imagined dancing with her at one of the surf club dances, and then reluctantly dismissed it as never happening.
Her gaze roamed his shirt. He quirked a brow. “Are you admiring my taste in shirts?”
She flushed and traced a drop of condensation sliding down her glass with a finger. “It’s a good color. Did someone buy it for you?”
He shrugged his shoulders in mock resignation. “I believe you’re questioning my taste again.”
A grin tugged at her mouth. “Only in ties. That aqua color reminds me of a tropical sea.”
“I have to confess the shirt was a Christmas present.”
Her eyes sparkled. “I suspected as much.”
The waiter came and filled up their glasses. A swirl of golden wine in the glass. Concern darkened her eyes. “How’s your dad?”
“I just came from the hospital. He’s feeling better. I’ve arranged for my aunt to stay with him when he comes home.”
“He doesn’t want to live with you?”
“No. He prefers his house. Won’t live in an apartment. Says it’s not living, merely existing. He likes to work in the soil, grows all his own vegetables.”
“He’s a practical man, your father.”
“Yes,” he said softly. “He is.”
The owner, Basil Liatos, a garrulous Greek of about sixty, brought their entree to the table. He inquired about Nick’s father, asked to have his best passed on to him, then discreetly withdrew.
Nick popped a piece of calamari in his mouth, buttery and delicious.
“These oysters are superb. Something else I’ve missed. Sydney rock oysters.” Angie licked a corner of her mouth drawing his attention to her lips.
“Pop says that people who love to eat are always the best people.”
“That would just about cover the entire Greek population, wouldn’t it?” she asked with a giggle.
He liked the sound of her laugh. “Passionate eaters are often also passionate lovers,” he said as his eyes met hers. Heat travelled straight to his groin. He shifted in his seat. He was unsure of her motives for this dinner. Best they get that out of the way. Fast. “I haven’t had dinner with a lovely woman for a while.”
“Thank you for the compliment.”
“You’re not here to learn more about the investigation?”
She frowned. “Do you know, I’d rather talk of anything but that.”
“Then I apologize. That was ungracious of me.”
They paused while the waiter placed the next course before them.
“You think I’m devious?”
His mouth twisted wryly. “No. But I have to be cautious.” He laughed. “A beautiful woman has considerable sway over us poor men.”
Angie rested her chin on her hand, a bemused smile on her lips. “You’re far too shrewd to allow a woman to manipulate you. If you don’t wish it.”
His gaze returned to her mouth. “Perhaps I do wish it.”
Golden lashes hid her expression as began to eat her souvlaki.
The proprietor removed the wine bottle from the ice bucket. He refilled their glasses.
“I am worried about Dany more than I can say. But that’s not why I came.” Her cheeks went pink, something he found appealing. “It’s probably not wise to admit it, but I wanted to see you.”
“Why isn’t it wise?” he asked. “I’m pleased to hear it. I wanted to see you.” When she put down her wineglass, he took her hand across the table, rubbing his thumb over the soft skin of her palm. “I hope to see a lot more of you before you leave.”
It sounded suggestive even to his ears. Angie’s gaze flew to his. After a moment, she withdrew her hand with an enigmatic smile. “I got an email from my boss in Hong Kong, today, checking on when I’ll be back. Tone might be difficult to discern in an email, but I caught the mood of her message. She’s running out of patience.”
Nick sighed. “Delay if you can. You need to know this before you decide. The man’s body has been identified. The post-mortem results are in tomorrow.” He had already discussed the findings over the phone and knew that his hunch had been correct.
“Who was he?”
“I can’t tell you that yet, Angie. The relatives are coming out from England to formally identify him.”
Her eyes widened. “Do you know what’s in the post mortem?”
“I’ll discuss it further when I’ve read it, but your sister will need a better explanation than the one she’s been giving me.”
She rummaged in her bag. “I must tell her.”
He stopped her, his hand resting on hers. “Not now.”
She withdrew her hand and chewed her lip, panic widening her eyes. “She’s my sister, Nick. I have to stand by her. She needs me.”
“I understand where your loyalty lies, but what if she bolts because of something she learned from me? Do you want my job on the line? It wouldn’t be good for her either. She needs to sort out this mess.”
“Dany wouldn’t run away. She’d have no reason to.” Her slender hands unconsciously twisted together.
She was frightened and might not know even as much as he did. He was sorry for the position she was in, but his desire to get close to her had little to do with sympathy. They were on borrowed time and he had an urgent need to place this relationship on a better footing. Sort the rest out later. The thought that he would take such a chance on a woman who would most likely leave him was a surprise. Maybe Pop’s nagging was having an effect. Or maybe it was the fact that Pop wouldn’t be around to nag him for much longer. A sobering thought. He picked up his knife and fork and tucked into his Grecian pork tenderloin, done just the way he liked it. “Then let’s talk about something else while we enjoy our nice dinner.”