My Greek SEAL (6 page)

While I was alone and at peace in the sea, doing something crazy and new seemed like a perfect plan. Now that I’m sitting at this lunch table and realizing a bill will soon be handed to me for this meal, my confidence is waning. I’ve worked in sales since graduating from the University of Arizona with a degree in marketing and a minor in journalism. I could get an excellent recommendation from my first employer for whom I worked for three years. Only my most recent prick boss would write terrible things. Shouldn’t I just stick with what I know? I should be able to land another job pretty quickly. Many people hate sales. And few are good at it. I don’t enjoy it as much as I thought I would, but overall sales work has been great to me in the money department.

Both of my previous employers were national lifestyle magazines. I sold advertising spots to clients and got paid a base salary plus commission. My recent employer’s magazine was new and just taking off and I believed it had potential. Steve and I hit it off reasonably well for more than two years. Sometimes I even met him and his wife for dinner outside work hours. My sales efforts and innovative marketing ideas helped the company more than double its annual revenue. I’d learned early on that if I proposed an idea and didn’t push it, a few days later Steve would bring up the same idea as if it was his and make the change. He had a major ego and I learned how to feed it.

If only the new office assistant, Nora, hadn’t put the target on my forehead and decided she wanted my job. While I was out-of-town meeting with clients or doing exhibits to promote the company, she was bad mouthing me to my boss. She even deleted my voice mails so clients would complain about me not returning their calls.

I tried to tell Steve this was happening, but by the time I had a few non-travel days in the office, the vindictive bitch had already soured his attitude toward me. I’d known my days were numbered, but somehow I figured that honesty would win and that I’d come out on top.

Instead, over an elegant dinner during a week-long show in Iowa, he told me the company was moving in a new direction and my services wouldn’t be needed anymore. When I asked about my month’s salary and commissions, he said if I worked for free for a month, he would consider paying me. I should do that much for the company at least “because of what I’d done.” Whatever that was. More poison I’m sure that Nora made up and pushed into his brain.

Then the bastard stood up from the table. After saying that he was flying out first thing in the morning and that running the exhibit the next day would be my responsibility, he left me there to feel completely alone and broken. How could this happen, I asked myself over and over again. Getting through the rest of the conference was an endurance contest. All I wanted was to get home so I could call a lawyer and drink myself into a stupor.

“Did you want to order something?”

Eros deep rich voice breaks into my thoughts. “Oh, yes.” I glance down at the menu in front of me and order the first thing that catches my eyes. “I’ll have the grilled fish, please.”

“You do know that it—“

“And a Coke,” I add quickly. Listening to Eros’ recommendations might mean I get a tastier meal, but it might also give him the impression I want him to talk to me. Maybe if I continue to ignore him, he’ll stop.

The male waiter nods and jots a note on his pad before directing his gaze to Maryann.

“You might be in for a surprise when you get your order,” Eros says. One thick wing-shaped brow raises and the expression in his dark eyes strikes me as sympathetic.

“Maybe I like surprises.” From his woeful expression, I suspect the head and the tail will be served along with the rest of the fish. I don’t care. Thinking about my stupid boss and his bitch assistant has killed my appetite. Even if the waiter brought me a T-bone steak, I probably wouldn’t finish it.

“I ordered fried cheese. You can try some if you like.”

I shrug. “Sure, why not?” I’m not at all in the mood to choke down some greasy cheese, but Eros is trying so hard to be nice, it doesn’t feel right to outright reject his offer. I remind myself that giving in to his niceness is not going to keep him away from me.

“Now this young lady is a fast swimmer,” says Maryann. “How did you get so fast?”

My face heats up as many heads turn toward me. I shrug and try to make light of it. “I’ve been swimming all of my life. My parents signed me up for swimming lessons when I was really little.” Actually, I took mom and tot classes with my mom at age two. A few days after I fell in the pool and almost drowned.

“But you’re so fast. Do you compete?” asks Maryann.

“Once in a while. I swam for my high school team. Didn’t swim much in college. Now I swim with a Masters team. We have organized workouts every day.”

“I wish I could have that kind of structure,” says Randy. “But my work requires a good bit of travel. In places where they don’t have pools.”

“What kind of work do you do?”

“I work for a petroleum company. I’m out on a drill rig for weeks. I work out during the long holidays I have between jobs. But a few weeks away and I feel like I’m in dreadful condition. I’ve only had a bit more than a week to train for these swims. And even then I spent more time on my bike than in the pool. That short swim we just did was enough for me. I may lounge on the boat instead of doing some of the long ones.”

“Randy is an expert cyclist,” says Maryann. “And he’s done some triathlons as well. The water works a bit better for me. Now that we’ve left cold London behind, I swim three or four days a week. There’s a lovely public pool near our new home in Sydney and once in a while I venture into the ocean. What time do you usually swim?”

“Five AM. In an outdoor pool. I kind of need exercise to get going in the morning.”

Maryann shudders. “Oh, dear, that sounds dreadful. It must be dark.”

I let out a sigh. “Yeah. That’s about right. And in the winter, it’s awful getting out of the pool wet in the wind and cold.”

“You’ve got tougher skin than I do. My job is flexible so I go whenever it suits my mood and go midday most of the winter since our pool is outside as well. There is an indoor facility a bit further from us where I sometimes swim when it gets too cold. It must be bloody freezing swimming outside all year.”

“Arizona has a relatively mild climate. It’s only cold for a few months. But in the winter when it’s freezing and pitch dark, it’s hard to leave a warm bed to jump in cold water. Some of the gyms in our town have indoor pools, but they’re too crowded. Swimming outside in the summer is fabulous. It gets light at four AM. We see a lot of amazing sunrises.”

Maryann shivered. “I don’t know how you can do any swimming outdoors in winter. We often travel during the Australian winter to Europe. Then I can take a dip in the ocean or pool.”

Maryann directs her gaze toward Eros. “You’re a very fast swimmer, too. I can’t imagine they have an Olympic sized pool near here. And the ocean must be freezing in the winter. How do you keep in swimming shape?”

“I live in Athens. There are many swimming pools there. Grocery stores, too,” he says as a sarcastic smile spreads over his face.

I suppress a laugh.

“Excuse me, I didn’t mean to offend you,” said Maryann. “I love how quiet and quaint it is here. That’s what drew us to the place.”

“I wasn’t offended. But ever since the financial crisis, people act like they are shocked if anything is right with Greece. There is a lot of corruption in our government and people are worried and struggling to get by, but not everything about our country is in ruins.”

“I understand that completely,” I said. “And every country has its problems. The United States has its issues. Almost anyone can buy a gun, even someone who is a suspected terrorist. Mass shootings happen all the time. I think people have forgotten how to be civil to one another. Just look who’s running for President.” I sigh. “Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to live someplace like this where I can just have some peace.” I extend my hand toward the calm waters in the aquamarine bay.

Eros looks at me with unblinking eyes and I detect connection and understanding there. “I have often wondered whether any of the people in America feel they are missing something when they are always running and working overtime and talking on cellulars.”

“It’s not like we have much choice. That’s America today.”

“Maybe you should live somewhere else for a while and see if it suits you better.”

I don’t answer. But it’s not because I’m ruling out the idea. As a matter of fact, I’m thinking why the hell not?

“Or maybe it isn’t possible because you have the house and car payment and the nine to five job and a very long list of other things you believe you must do.”

“Actually, I have none of those things,” I burst out with, feeling suddenly free. “I could move to another country today if I wanted to.” If I had money, I don’t say.

“You seem to be at an important place in your life. One where the decision you make will change your destiny.”

“I don’t know that it’s as dramatic as all that.”

“Isn’t it? It seems very dramatic to leave your birthplace to live in an alien land.”

“Yes, that’s true. But thinking about it. It sounds amazing. I never considered running away from this mess that is my life now and trying to start over somewhere else. I was kind of thrown into these circumstances.”

“What circumstances?”

I want to kick myself for talking myself into this trap. “You know, I’d really rather not talk about it.”

“Ah, yes. Americans tend to keep their emotions and problems deep inside I have heard. Your magazines warn readers to stay away from those toxic people who talk about their problems. I imagine people who are open and honest must have very few friends in your country.”

I see his point, but feel compelled to resist admitting it. “Insulting my country won’t get me to talk.”

“My words were not meant to be an insult, Maya. I’m simply making an observation, one that seems related what you yourself said before about people not having compassion or being civil. How can anyone feel compassion for people they don’t understand?”

I’m more irritated than ever that his conclusions seem so astute. If only I could spew out some snappy retort.

“I realize my bias toward Americans largely comes from what I hear in the media. Before you came here, you must have read articles and news bulletins, and come to some conclusions about the Greek people,” said Eros.

I don’t mention all the reports I read written by financial advisors that described the Greeks as irresponsible, lazy, and corrupt. As if every one of them were the same. Or the travel advisories warning that trains, planes and buses would likely be on strike, and that streets might be overflowing with rioters. It would be embarrassing given that every Greek person I’ve met, other than Eros, has been completely charming and that I’ve had no transit problems or witnessed a single protest. It was all a bunch of media hype if you ask me. “I have noticed a certain Greek man asks way too many questions.”

Eros leans back in his chair and laughs, stretching his T-shirt tightly over his muscular chest. His laugh is full-bodied and masculine and the expression on his face is so relaxed and unrestrained.

I wish I felt comfortable unleashing my emotions. It could be so cleansing. Instead, I battle with all my might to keep them inside.

When his burst of laughter subsides, he crosses his arms in front of his chest and looks at me. “Ah, yes. I have asked many questions. You see I like to get to know people. I like to understand them. You’ll find many of my people are like this. Men and women alike. We like to get to know the travelers. Where they’re from. What brings them to Greece. Knowing people is a good thing here. We don’t need to preserve our own space or worry that hearing about someone’s problems will make us feel depressed.”

When he blinks, I notice his eyelashes are long and curly. Every feature from his wavy unruly dark hair, thick brows and deeply emotional eyes give his face a character I want to like. “It’s dangerous,” I say too loud. I’m terrified of this magnetic attraction I feel toward Eros, of my emotions, which are rising to the surface and threatening to give my vulnerability away.

His brows raise and his eyes widen. “What’s dangerous?”

An image of Nora pops into my head. She acted like she wanted to be my friend and then later used what she learned about my personality to drive the knife in deep. She learned I was a concrete thinker and often didn’t get obscure jokes. She knew my sales presentations were more professional than entertaining. I sold to people because I got them to trust me and showed the benefits the advertising could do for their business, not because I made them laugh. But she said my serious demeanor didn’t fit for a high-profile sales person. That she had a friend who had the potential to make my boss even richer who would work for less than what I was being paid. And my greedy boss fell for that one, hook, line and sinker. “Getting to know people. That’s not always so fun. Once they know your weaknesses, they stab you in the back.”

“Ah, so you recently broke up with a boyfriend?” He raises one eyebrow and rests a sculpted cheek on a palm, gazing at me with a pensive, wide-eyed expression that makes my blood simmer.

“No. I got fired. And I didn’t do a damn thing to deserve it. I worked really hard. And my sales numbers were great. This awful woman who was our receptionist told my boss all these lies. I... I said I don’t want to talk about it.”

Maryann places a hand on my shoulder and pats it gently. “Codswallop. I’m thinking you need to talk. Don’t worry, dear. We’re not all dodgy like those work folks who did you wrong.”

A flicker of compassion appears in Eros dark, sensitive eyes. “It would be good to get some of that pain off your chest.”

“Yes, it’s really quite all right,” says Maryann. “We’re good listeners.”

Apparently, the
we
she’s talking about doesn’t include her husband because Randy clears his throat, glances away and starts up a conversation with Scott.

“A vacation is a terrible time to talk about work. I’ve already said too much.”