chest.
Nick followed the progress of her fingertip before allowing his gaze to lift to her lips again. “Perhaps your luck is about to change.”
TWO
While she waited for Nick to retrieve his car from the long-term parking lot, Darcie called Becky. Even if she didn’t think Nick was a psycho, she decided it would be wise to let someone know she had arrived safely in Athens and was now in the hands of a stranger. Calling her parents was out of the question. Ditto for her sisters. That left Becky, who answered on the fifth ring.
“Someone had better be dying,” her friend muttered ominously, and Darcie realized it was the middle of the night in Buffalo.
“I’m not dying, just checking in,” she said. “Sorry I woke you, Becks. I forget about the time difference.”
“Darcie? Oh. Hey.” She pictured Becky struggling to a sitting position on her bed and trying to force the cobwebs from her head. “Is everything okay?”
Darcie scuffed the toe of one shoe against the pavement. “Sort of.”
“What does that mean?”
“Well, my flight arrived on time, but I’m missing half of my luggage. The good half.”
Becky had helped her pack, so she commiserated. “That stinks. On the bright side, now you have a valid excuse to buy more clothes.”
“Yeah.” Like Darcie could afford to do that. She coughed and continued. “Oh, and there’s been one other small glitch. No one from the tour company was at the airport to meet me.”
“What? That’s ridiculous. You need to report them to the Better Business Bureau or something.”
“I know. Apparently, the owner of the company is a lush.” She forced out a laugh. “Figures, right? I mean, Tad got such a good deal on this vacation there was bound to be a catch.”
Becky muttered something obscene about Tad. It wasn’t anything Darcie hadn’t heard before. Her friend had been quite vocal in her dislike of him. That had been a source of contention between the two women in the past, but no longer. She found herself wondering what Becky would make of Nick.
“I hope the rest of the trip goes smoothly,” her friend said.
Unfortunately, based on what Nick had told Darcie, she had her doubts. She told Becky as much.
“What are you going to do? Can you get a refund and hook up with a different company?”
“I don’t know.” The fine print on the package said the price was nonrefundable, but Darcie planned to try anyway. She figured she had nothing to lose. “In the meantime, I have a ride to the first hotel on the itinerary. The tour group is supposed to stay there for a couple of nights. That should give me time to see if the company is going to be able to deliver on any of its promises and, if not, make other arrangements.” At least she hoped it would.
“Good. Darcie, if you need money—”
“No. I don’t. But thanks.” Not only could Becky not afford it, but she’d also been generous enough already, letting Darcie crash at her apartment until she found a place of her own. That certainly beat moving back in with her parents, even temporarily. What thirty-year-old woman wanted to do that?
Darcie took a deep breath then and, keeping her tone nonchalant, said, “You’re going to love this. The person who agreed to drive me is this insanely gorgeous man with an accent that is to die for.”
There was a slight pause before Becky asked, “You’re taking a cab, right?”
“No. Actually, I met this man in the airport and he...offered to drive. He showed me identification,” she hastened to add. “His name is Nick Costas. He lives in Manhattan, but he’s from Athens originally.”
“Darcie, I don’t know,” Becky began, worry evident in her tone.
“What happened to, ‘Have a fling and get ur sexy back?’ Hmm?”
“Well, I didn’t actually expect you to take my advice! When do you ever listen to me? I mean, if you listened to me, you never would have given Tad the time of day, much less wasted six years of your life engaged to him.”
Point taken. Becky had told Darcie from the start that Tad was a first-class mama’s boy and would stay that way.
“Relax. I’m not having a fling. It’s only a ride to a hotel. Nothing more.” Except maybe in her fantasies.
“Okay, but call me when you get there.”
“I will.”
“Promise me, Darcie. I’m not going to be able to go back to sleep until you do.”
“I promise. I’ll call.”
She hung up just as Nick’s car pulled to the curb. Unlike the other boxy subcompacts parked nearby, it was a sleek, low-slung convertible.
“Nice car.” She tapped a finger to her lips as she studied its graceful lines. “A 1963 Porsche, right?”
He nodded slowly. “A 356 Super 90 Cabriolet, to be exact.”
“Fully restored?”
“Yes, but with original parts. And I have a certificate of authenticity from the manufacturer.”
“Ooh. That pushes up its value.”
“It does.” Nick tilted his head to the side. “How is it that you know so much about automobiles?”
Darcie chuckled at his incredulous expression. “I work for a classic car magazine. I guess I picked up a few things along the way.”
“You’re a writer.”
She frowned. Not for lack of wanting, she thought. “No. I just check the facts of articles other people write.”
“Which magazine might that be?”
“Automobile Enthusiasts Monthly. It’s relatively small and based in Buffalo. You probably haven’t heard of it.” Darcie hadn’t until Tad’s friend had offered her the job just before her engagement.
“I have a subscription. I find it very factual.” He got out of the car and stood beside her. “What else can you tell me about this particular model Porsche?”
“Well, as I recall, it was very popular in America when it first came out.”
“It still is among collectors.”
“And you’re a collector.” It made sense. A man with a Park Avenue address likely would have the disposable income to indulge his whims, even ones that ran into six figures.
But Nick was shaking his head. “I collect for others. As much as I like this automobile, I will not be buying it. It will go to whoever pays the most to possess it. It is what I do for a living.” He pulled out a business card, which he handed to her. It read, Costas Classic Auto Sales and Auctions.
“Impressive.”
“It would appear that you and I have two interests in common.”
“Two?”
“Classic cars and...” His smile could have melted a glass and made it clear what that other interest was. She smiled in return and hoped the laughter that followed came off as worldly rather than the sort fueled by giddiness and nerves.
“Let me take your bag,” he said.
The Porsche had a rear engine, meaning its trunk was in the front. When Nick opened the compartment, Darcie eyed the small space.
“Gee, maybe it’s just as well the airline lost one of my bags. I don’t think both of them would fit in here. I guess when you own one of these babies you have to travel light to travel in style.” She glanced at Nick, a question forming.