Sara Andropolous leaned over to view the pastry from all
angles. It looked perfect. Satisfied, she slid it onto one
of the delicate china plates and drizzled a bit of honey on
top. Two mint leaves completed the presentation and she
smiled. One down, five more to do in less than five minutes.
Working swiftly, she finished the last in less than the
allotted time. Perfection.
She'd been on her feet for five hours, yet she felt as fresh
as if she'd just started. She loved creating works of art
for consumption. Time flew, and she was absorbed in her work
to the exclusion of all else.
"See how this pleases your guests," she murmured in a
onesided imaginary conversation with Nikos Konstantinos.
When Sara had first arrived in Greece four months ago, her
temporary assignment at the xpayo´'UG)8t ao´epa, Windsong
Hotel, several miles from Thessalonika had seemed like an
answer to prayer. She'd been trying to find a way to get a
toehold in Greece for so long, it was amazing to her how
swiftly things had fallen into place. No one suspected her
real intent. The sudden opportunity to move to Greece had
been impossible to refuse. She'd left her friends, sublet
her flat, and headed for the Aegean with one thought in
mindfind a way to make contact with her grandmother,
Eleani Konstantinos.
As the yacht gently bobbed on the sea, Sara wondered for the
nth time if she were really any closer to her goal. It had
seemed meant to be when her friend Stacy had discovered that
Sara's grandmother had remarried and found where she had
been living all these years. When Stacy had then told her
five months ago about an opening at the exclusive Greek
resort owned by the grandson of the man her grandmother had
married, Sara had applied instantly for the job. Amazingly,
she'd been hired within two weeks of her first interview.
Being Greek herself and knowing the language had been a big
plus. But she also liked to think her accomplishments had
commanded the attention of the interviewer. The lavish
salary she was getting indicated they expected no less than
outstanding work.
So far things had progressed better than she'd expected.
After only four months in Greece, it was nothing short of
miraculous that she'd been promoted to temporary chef on
Nikos Konstantinos's luxury yacht. With any luck, at some
point, they would put in at the island his family
ownedthe key to getting to her grandmother. How she
was to accomplish the next step was beyond her at the
moment. Still, she was closer than ever. Time would present
the opportunity she needed.
Stretching her muscles, she placed the desserts on the
elegant silver tray and put it on the open area of the
counter where the steward would pick it up to deliver to the
guests in the main dining salon. It was after nine and she
was just about finished for the day. She felt revved up,
wide-awake and not at all ready to go to bed, though she'd
been up before six every morning to prepare breakfast.
The chef on the yacht Cassandra had become suddenly
ill with appendicitis, and she'd been selected to fill the
role until he recovered. As the chief chef at the resort had
explained when selecting her for the assignment, their boss,
resort owner Nikos Konstantinos, had guests expected for a
week's cruise around the Aegean and needed someone versatile
enough for all meals and desserts. The chief chef had
recommended her even though she was the newest member of the
kitchen staff. She still couldn't believe her luck. At this
rate she'd finally meet her grandmother before the month was
out!
Her intelligence unit, as she called her friends in London
who had rallied round to help her get to Greece once they'd
learned of her goal, were certain her mother's mother was
living on the Konstantinos family island in the Aegean.
Strategically isolated for privacy, the island offered no
way to gain access unless a family member brought guests.
Since her letter had been returned unopened, her phone call
refused and no e-mail address available, she knew no one
would vouch for her. To the contrary, she suspected if she
petitioned Nikos Konstantinos directly, he'd have her fired
on the spot and erect even stronger barriers between her and
her grandmother. She was not going to put that to the test.
She'd find a way onto the island on her own.
If she could just meet the woman, maybe she could ignore
some of that stiff Greek pride that apparently ran rampant
in her mother's family and tell Eleani Konstantinos about
her daughter's death, and the last words her mother had
said how she wished she could have reconciled with her
parents. It had been too late by the time Damaris
Andropolous had uttered those words. She had died two days
later.
Sara wanted to carry them back, heal a breach that had split
the family for almost thirty years. She had been working
more than a year to achieve that aim to fulfill the promise
she had made to her mother just before she died.
Was the end really in sight?
Looking back, the best thing her mother had ever done was
insist Sara learn Greek. Most of their family friends in
London had been of Greek descent, a close-knit community of
Greek expats who had loved to celebrate special occasions
together. Her friend Stacy swore she loved the English
lifestyle more than anything, yet she, too, had studied
their ancestors' language. Sara knew her fluency in Greek
had landed her this job, she was sure of it. She had had no
difficulty in adapting to life at the resort. It was a
delightful change from the rainy weather she'd left in
London and she'd thrown herself into her job with
determination that had obviously paid off.
As she put the pots and bowls she'd used to prepare the
evening meal in the sink to soak, Sara thought about how
she'd approach her grandmotherif she got the chance.
Stacy had been a font of information, relying on the gossip
of her own cousins who still lived in Greece. Sara's
grandfather had died several years ago, and Eleani had
remarried Spiros Konstantinos, head of the legendary
Konstantinos Shipping empire. Sara had scrambled to find out
as much information as she could about the family, only to
come up with very little.
They obviously used a good deal of the money they made
ensuring privacy.
"I'm late. Sorry. Won't happen again," Stefano said as he
swooped up the tray of desserts. The steward was late at
least once a dayand always claiming it wouldn't happen
again. She had gotten used to it and if Nikos Konstantinos
didn't care, she certainly didn't.
"Looks delicious, as usual. I'll get it up to the guests."
He talked so fast Sara sometimes had trouble understanding
him. She made sure he had all he needed for the guests, then
began preparing a tray for the crew.
When Stefano returned, he leaned against the door and let
out a long breath. "So the daughter is turning up her charm.
I suspect this is a cruise to ensure the lovely Gina
Fregulia and Nikos have a chance to get to know each other
better. Her father is hinting for marriage, you know. And it
doesn't seem as if Nikos is resisting at all."
"Now how would you know that?" Sara asked as she worked. She
silently urged him to continue. The more she knew about the
Konstantinos family, the better able she'd be to deal with
them, she thought.
"It's no secret. The man's thirty-four years old. Past time
to marry and start a family, else who will inherit all the
money?"
Sara looked up at that. "You're thirty-five. Are you married?"
Stefano laughed. "It's different for me. I get to see
beautiful women every day. Sail the Aegean on every cruise.
Maybe I will settle down one day. But I don't have two
fortunes to leave when I die."
"Two?"
"Nikos didn't follow his father and grandfather into
shipping. But he's still the sole heir after his father.
He's making a small fortune in his own right with the resort
and all the collateral businesses. Wish I had some of that
money."
"I'm sure we all do. Actually, we get some by doing our work
properly," Sara said mischievously, smiling at the steward.
"I meant, have it to spend without working. It'll be
interesting to see how the relationship between Miss
Fregulia and the boss pans out."
"Do you think it won't?" Sara asked, curious. She longed to
ask a dozen questions, but didn't want to give rise to
suspicion.
Stefano gave a shrug. "The way I hear it, Nikos loved his
first fiancée. I never knew the full story of the
breakup, but for a long time, he had the temper of a bear.
Arranged marriages are a bit passé for those of us in
the regular world, but in the world of huge fortunes, not so
uncommon. I think Nikos Konstantinos will marry for the good
of the resort, and to provide heirs for the fortunes. The
Fregulias are big in wine in Italy. Their fortunes surely
match those of Nikos. At least he doesn't worry about being
married for his money. I predict a match made in business."
"An oracle," Sara said, finishing the last touch on the
desserts for the crew. "I wish them happy." A happy Nikos
meant a more amiable man if she ever had to call on him for
access to her grandmother.
"I expect Gina Fregulia will be happy if she gets her hands
on Nikos's millions."
"Thought you said she was wealthy."
"Her father is, subtle difference. Nikos will be the prize,"
Stefano said.
Sara shook her head. Stefano called their boss by his first
name around the staff, but she knew he'd have infinitely
more respect when in the presence of Nikos Konstantinos. At
least she thought he would. She had yet to meet the man.
Didn't care much one way or another if she ever met him, as
long as his yacht docked on the family island at some time
while she was still aboard.
"The captain won't be having dessert. He's returned to the
helm to relieve the mate. This looks nice for the crew,"
Stefano said as he lifted the second, less elaborate, tray
full of delicious pastries.
"We should have our food as nicely presented as the guests,"
Sara said, putting the finishing garnishment on the last plate.
Sara followed Stefano to the aft deck where a table had been
set up for the crew to use. Those already seated had left
her a place at the end since she didn't normally join them
until dessert. Except for Stefano, the rest of the men were
around her mother's age. They had probably sailed on the
Konstan-tinos yacht for years.
Sara relaxed slightly. Her duties for the day were
completed. The gentle breeze that swept by as the yacht
plowed through the sea made it most pleasant to be outside.
It was a cool relief from the hot kitchen. The stars were
growing brilliant against the darkening sky. Only the
running lights from the yacht and the illumination spilling
from the salon disturbed the velvet darkness.
Once she'd finished eating, she considered relaxing on one
of the loungers and just studying the sky. With little
ambient light, the stars seemed to multiply. She saw more
each night than she'd ever seen in London.
They'd be stopping at anchor soon. The Aegean rocked the
boat gently each night. She loved it. Maybe she should
consider looking for a permanent berth on some ship once her
task had been completed.
"Thank you," one of the crew said as he rose. "It's good."
One by one the others rose and thanked her. Sara was beaming
when Stefano left to clean the kitchen. He'd removed all the
dishes and utensils, leaving the table bare, except for her
glass of water.
One of the men went to sit near the aft rail, gazing out
across the sea. The others left, presumably to other tasks
or for an early bedtime.
Sara enjoyed the night air for a short time, then went back
to the galley to check on preparations for breakfast. Once
she had that done, she'd call it a night.
She had been longer on the aft deck than she thought. The
galley was gleaming. Stefano had finished and vanished. She
would have enjoyed some company in the quiet space while she
mentally reviewed the checklist for the ingredients she
would need to bake individual quiches for breakfast. She'd
make a pan of sweet rolls and cut up fresh fruit. The larder
of the galley was bigger than the pantry she had in her
flat. The yacht was spacious and outfitted to suit the most
discriminating tastes.
Humming as she double-checked everything, Sara was startled
when she heard the door open behind her. Turning, she
stopped in surprise. No doubt about it, Nikos Konstantinos
had come to the galley.
In a land where all men seemed to be handsome, she was
momentarily taken aback. Feeling tongue-tied like an idiot
schoolgirl, she could only stare for a long moment, feeling
every sense come to attention as she gazed at him. He had
wavy black hair and a tan that spoke of hours in the Aegean
sun. Dark eyes gravely regarded her. He seemed to fill the
doorway, his head barely clearing the lintel. He was over
six feet, with broad shoulders and a trim physique. The
white dinner jacket he wore seemed out of place on a ship,
yet suited him to perfection. Bemused, Sara wished her
friend Stacy could see how the rich dressed for
dinnereven on a private yacht. This man would take the
crown for good looks. She felt a frisson of attraction, and
the surprise shocked her out of her stupor. He'd think she
was an idiot if she didn't say something.
"Can I help you?" she asked. For a moment she felt a pull
like a magnet's force field, drawing her closer. Looking
away for a scant second, she was vaguely pleased to note her
feet were still where they had been. She hadn't made a fool
of herself by closing the gap between them.
"You are the chef replacing Paul?" he asked in disbelief.
Sara almost groaned in delight at the husky, sexy tone of
his deep voice. She wanted to close her eyes and ask him to
recite some lengthy passage just to hear him speak. But Sara
Andropolous was made of sterner stuff. Tilting her head
slightly, she gave a polite smile, ignoring her racing heart
and replied, "I am."
Be very wary, she warned herself. This man held the key to
the Konstantinos family island. She dared not do anything to
jeopardize that. But for an instant she forgot all of that
as she took in his stunning good looks. The tingling
awareness seemed to grow with each tick of the clock.
He narrowed his eyes slightly. "I had not expected a woman
so young," he said softly.