The Tycoon's Son. Cindy Kirk
rolling off him.
“You may call me Theo,” he said politely, pushing in her chair as she took her seat.
Out of the corner of her eye, Trish saw a few people staring and realized she and Theo had become the main attraction in the small café.
“Have you had lunch?” she asked when he took the seat opposite her.
Mentioning food or the weather was always a good conversation starter. But Theo didn’t have a chance to respond because the proprietress chose that moment to deliver a bottle of ouzo to the table along with ice and water. The older woman’s cheeks might have been a road map of wrinkles, but her dark eyes still had a youthful flare and a healthy dose of curiosity.
“This woman is a friend, Theo?” the woman asked, her hands fluttering in the air like tiny wrens.
“Mrs. Melrose and I have done business together in the past,” Theo said smoothly. “She and I have some work-related concerns to discuss.”
Theo went on to introduce the proprietress as his grandmother, Menka Catomeris. He also casually mentioned that his grandfather, Tommy, was in the kitchen cooking.
After a few seconds of polite conversation, the woman bustled off to take care of other diners. But not before giving Theo another hug and making him promise to stop in back and see his grandfather before he left.
Trish felt a pang of envy. It was obvious the threesome had a warm, loving relationship.
“You’re lucky to be so close to your grandparents,” Trish said, her tone sounding wistful even to her ears. It had been her dream to have her daughter, Cassidy, grow up surrounded by family. But her ex-husband’s parents were too busy with their own lives to spend much time with the child and Trish’s parents lived in Nebraska.
Theo poured ouzo into the glass and added water. “They’re more like parents than grandparents. I’ve been with them since I was a baby.”
She’d expected him to continue but his lips clamped down as if he’d said more than he’d intended.
“I’m sorry.” A wave of compassion washed over Trish. “Did your parents die?”
“No.” Theo raised the glass to his lips. “My mother lives in Athens. My father isn’t…involved.”
Trish almost asked what had happened, but at the last minute regained her common sense. This was a work-related luncheon, and until their business was concluded, it wouldn’t do to let the conversation get too personal. Still, the more she knew about Theo, the better she’d be able to solidify a deal that met both their needs.
“How did you get started doing tours?” she asked.
“I went to college in Athens,” he said in an offhand tone, taking a sip of ouzo. “Then to Stanford for my MBA.”
Trish smiled. No wonder he spoke such perfect English.
“And then?” she prompted when he didn’t immediately continue.
“When I returned to Greece, I worked in Athens for a brokerage firm for several years.” His eyes grew distant with remembrance. “But my heart wasn’t in it. I bought my first boat, returned to Corfu and started my business.”
Trish picked up a piece of feta. “How many boats do you have now?”
“Six,” he said, a note of pride in his voice. “We now go to most of the Ionian Islands. In the beginning it was just Kefalonia.”
Trish took another bite of the delicious cheese, and tried to get a hold on the excitement strumming through her body. The excursion to Kefalonia was the reason for this meeting, and Theo had just opened the door to that discussion.
“From what I understand, Kefalonia is a must-see for visitors to this area,” Trish said, doing her best to keep her tone casual.
“You’ve never been there?” Menka asked, suddenly reappearing to place a plate of savory phyllo pastries on the table. Apparently the older woman had decided if they were there, they were going to eat.
Trish shook her head. “This is my first visit to the area.”
“You must go,” Menka said. “You must make a tour.”
Trish hesitated. She and her friend had booked a spot on an excursion to Kefalonia later in the afternoon. But she hated to mention the plan for fear Theo would use it as a reason to cut their meeting short.
“It sounds like Kefalonia is a place everyone should have a chance to see,” Trish answered instead, casting a pointed glance toward Theo.
Theo nodded. “It’s very beautiful.”
“Theo. Maybe you could—” Menka stopped mid-sentence, her gaze focused on Theo. Instead of continuing with the thought she merely patted Theo on the shoulder and scurried off.
Theo glanced down at the phyllo pastries his grandmother had placed on the table. “Yiayia likes to bring me all my favorite dishes when I come here. I can ask her for a menu if you’d like to order something else.”
“Thank you, but these will be fine. They look wonderful.” The delicious smells in the café had set her stomach to rumbling and she’d always found eating to be conducive to doing business. “While we’re eating, why don’t you tell me a little bit about Corfu?”
Theo obligingly started talking and continued to talk while Menka brought them salads and then grilled fish. It didn’t take Trish long to realize why Theo was so effective as a tour operator. The man possessed a wealth of knowledge about his home country…and a passion.
Yet by the time the galactoboureko—a milk custard pie with phyllo pastry and a touch of honey—had arrived, Trish had lost interest in geography and history.
Instead she found her attention focused on Theo. On the way his brown—almost black—hair brushed his shoulders. The way his lips closed around the spoon with the custard, the way he gestured with his fingers to make a point.
Even the way he talked fascinated her. His English was excellent, but occasionally his inflection would reveal that he wasn’t a native speaker.
Trish suddenly wished that she didn’t have an agenda and could just enjoy his company. If only the words business and contracts didn’t have to cross her lips.
She wasn’t sure how he was going to react to the incentive she planned to offer him. Regardless of what Mr. Stamos called it, offering Theo’s foundation a generous donation in exchange for him resuming the Kefalonia excursions smacked of bribery.
“Trish.” Theo’s deep voice broke through her reverie and she looked up to find him staring at her, an inscrutable expression on his face.
“I suppose you want to get down to business.” She practically sighed the word and a dimple flashed in his cheek. Once she’d laid the offer on the table, the delightful lunch would be over.
He leaned back in his chair. “What’s on your mind?”
Trish opened her mouth and the words she didn’t want to speak tumbled out.
CHAPTER TWO
“COULD YOU EXPLAIN to me,” Trish said, lifting a glass of ouzo to her lips, “your reservations about signing the contract to do shore excursions for Liberty Line?”
Though Theo had wondered how long it would take her to get to the point of the meeting, disappointment coursed through him. He’d been enjoying her company and hated to see the conversation turn ugly.
He had terminated all of his tour company’s contracts with the Liberty Line when his father had bought out the previous owners.
He had no doubt that Mrs. Melrose, Trish, was in league with his father. When he’d spoken with her on the phone she’d been careful to portray herself as an independent businesswoman who needed his help. But Theo hadn’t been fooled.