This man was a stranger, and she didn't know what to do. And she wasn't sure she liked it. "All right?" she echoed. "That's all you have to say?"
He looked up at her again. "What do you want me to say? I told you that you could call the shots. I said it was about you. If you don't want to do it again, that's fine."
That was fine? He'd given her the best orgasm of her life and taken nothing for himself and that was fine?
"Okay then," she said, feeling a bit lost. "Let's go back to just friends."
"Just friends," he agreed.
Why did she feel like she was the one losing this battle?
"So . . ." Violet said after taking a steadying sip of her coffee. "We're here at the hotel. We have a poem that talks about nothing in particular. What do we do?"
Jonathan shrugged again-a gesture she was beginning to hate. "I'm sure something will come to us. Maybe we need to explore the city. The poem mentioned wheels. Maybe we need to look for wheels of some kind."
It was as good a lead as any. "Just looking for wheels seems rather vague to me. And if we don't find the wheel my father referred to?"
"Then we wait here for a while and see what hits us. Something will pop up."
He seemed so very casual about the entire thing. "So we just lounge around on a Greek island and enjoy the sun and sand? Is that what you're saying?"
He grinned, a flicker of the old Jonathan rising to the surface. "Is that such a bad thing?"
It wasn't, not really. Santorini was lovely from what she remembered, and the weather seemed to be nice today. "Do you think we should check out the ruins?"
"We're not part of any sort of archaeological dig, so I don't know if they'd just let us out there unless we pulled strings. We can, but if it wasn't one of your father's digs, it would seem strange for him to send us out there."
That was true. She knew that he'd been heavily involved in the Akrotiri ruins for about five years, and then had abruptly changed his mind, heading for Spain instead. Why Spain, she hadn't known and hadn't cared. "So . . . we're basically stranded at the moment."
"I guess we are. Want to go sightseeing?"
She blinked at his suggestion. "Shouldn't we work on this?"
"We should. And we will. But for now, why don't we just enjoy the day? Take some time off? You seem tired."
If she was tired, it was because she was still a puddle of jelly after last night's interlude. It was an interlude which had rattled her to her core and hadn't seemed to affect him at all. Sheesh. "I'm not tired."
"Good. Then shall we go exploring?"
"Can't I eat breakfast first?"
"I never said we'd skip out on the eating," Jonathan said in a low murmur.
And that made her blush, thinking again of the plane ride over. Damn it, she was pretty sure he'd said that just to bug her. And that made her all confused again.
Which Jonathan was he? Jonathan of all shrugs and not caring if they ever touched each other again? Or suggestive, madly in love with her after ten years Jonathan?
She was so confused.
-
They spent the day in the warm sun. Santorini was just as idyllic as she remembered it. The island itself was formed from the remnants of a volcano, the city hugging the edges of the caldera. It had been one of the oldest civilizations in existence thirty-six hundred years ago when the volcano had erupted and destroyed Akrotiri. In the present day, Fira town was its own little white cluster of buildings crawling over the rocky soil, surrounded by the impossibly beautiful ocean and jagged cliffs. It was utterly lovely, and the sky overhead was a sea of endless blue.
She'd loved this place when she'd snuck away here with Jonathan so many years ago. They'd left the Akrotiri dig behind for a weekend of passionate lovemaking in the Kallista Hotel back when they were teenagers, and walking the streets ten years later, she couldn't stop thinking about that weekend.
Back then, Jonathan had held her hand as they'd explored the narrow streets.
Today, he walked at her side. As a friend. The thought left a sour note in her mind.
Fira's shops lined the streets, colorful fabrics and beach souvenirs catching the eye. Delicious smells lingered in the marketplace, and she couldn't resist stopping for a bite of baklava, or a delicious gyro. She bought a colorful linen wrap intended for the beach, and took her time browsing as they shopped. It was pleasant . . . and infuriating at the same time.
They went sightseeing and talked about nothing in particular. They read the poem repeatedly, scanned the streets for wheels or things that might have matched up with their clues, and came away empty-handed. By the end of the evening, Violet's feet ached from walking, her nose was sunburned, and she was a good, achy tired again. They'd eaten all day as they'd walked, so there was no need for dinner. Still, when it came time to part, Violet hesitated. Did Jonathan want to spend time with her? Maybe come up to her room? Have a little more "friends with benefits" time?