

No Stranger To Love

Pamela Aares

Also Available

**in the** Tavonesi Series

Love Bats Last (Book #1, Alex and Jackie)

Thrown By Love (Book #2, Chloe and Scotty)

Fielder's Choice (Book #3, Alana and Matt)

Love on the Line (Book #4, Cara and Ryan)

Aim For Love (Book #5, Sabrina and Kaz)

The Heart of the Game (Book #6, Cody and Zoe)

Love in the Vineyard (Book #7, Adrian and Natasha)

A Very Daring Christmas (Book#8, Cameron and Jake)

No Stranger to Love (Book #9, Parker and Juliet)

Until Love Finds You (Book #10, Coco and Evan) coming December 2016

also available:

Jane Austen and the Archangel

For a complete list visit www.PamelaAares.com

NO STRANGER TO LOVE

(The Tavonesi Series #9, Parker and Juliet)

Juliet Cabot is no stranger to trouble, but she never imagined that her work defending endangered sea turtles on a beautiful Greek island would turn deadly. Threats to her life force her to call for help from the man who's haunted her dreams for years—wine country landowner and international polo star Parker Tavonesi.

Parker owes Juliet big time for getting him out of a fix in the past. Handsome, resourceful and fearless, she trusts him with her life but she vowed she would never trust him with her heart. When danger enshrouds them and warm island nights cause their bottled-up passions to flare, Juliet's every fantasy could become reality... unless the dark secrets of a sultry paradise prove fatal, not just for the struggling sea turtles but for Parker and Juliet as well.

# NO STRANGER TO LOVE

Tavonesi Series #9

Copyright 2016 Pamela Aares

Smashwords Edition, License Notes:

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in articles or reviews. For information address P.O. Box 750924, Petaluma, CA 94975-0924.

www.PamelaAares.com

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Cover design by www.jdsmith-design.com

Interior Layout by www.formatting4U.com

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

# A Note from Pamela

I am so honored by the requests pouring in asking for more stories of the Tavonesi cousins and their intriguing, sensual, adventurous and wildly romantic friends! Readers have been asking for Parker Tavonesi's love story and in _No Stranger to Love_ , in the simmering setting of a sultry Greek island, he falls hard and fast for the daring Juliet Cabot.

_No Stranger to Love_ is the ninth book in the Tavonesi Series (and the first book of the _Journey to Love_ trilogy). Each book in the Tavonesi Series can easily be read as a standalone yet you may enjoy reading the entire series and meeting all of the Tavonesi clan. If you have read the first books of the series, stay tuned as the love stories of some of your favorite characters are in the works!

Thank you for being the greatest readers in the world--your emails, tweets and facebook messages (and reviews!) keep my fingers flying. I love hearing from readers. You can contact me Pamela@PamelaAares.com and join my newsletter if you'd like to stay in touch and find out about new releases (and please check your spam filter and set up your email to allow my notes to reach you so you'll never miss a new book or a chance to win great prizes).

Thank you and happy reading!

Pamela

# Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Epilogue

Thank You

Other Books by Pamela

About the Author

Copyright

# Chapter One

She hadn't been paying attention. Scuttling like a crab on her hands and knees, Juliet scrambled out of the foaming white water. Zuri sputtered beside her as they pressed up to their feet and dashed away from the tideline. Juliet spit salty sand from her mouth. They both knew better than to turn their back on the Pacific, on any ocean for that matter. But Zuri's request had smacked into Juliet with almost as much force as the rogue wave that had caught them both off guard.

Juliet shook the water from her hair and tapped at her ears, still not sure she'd heard Zuri right.

" _Why_ would I pretend to be your domineering brother's girlfriend, even for a few days?"

Zuri brushed the sand from her thighs as they climbed up the slanting beach toward the dunes. "He's not really _so_ domineering. He just thinks he's always right." Squinting into the sunlight reflecting off the sand, she added, "And usually he is."

Juliet heard the defensiveness in her friend's voice. They'd been friends all their lives, but Zuri had grown up with wealth and all that came with it. Juliet had had to get by on her wits. And her wits were telling her that what Zuri was proposing was a really bad idea.

Juliet snagged her beach towel from where she'd left it at the base of a dune and wound it around her waist. She hated to disappoint Zuri. "Parker's your favorite brother, and I know you love him—"

" _Sommelier_ magazine is the _absolute_ authority on wine. But they want a lifestyle article." Zuri fisted her hands to her hips. "That means seeing Parker with a woman—cooking, walking the vineyard and relishing the good life of Sonoma wine country. This is huge for the launch of his new line of wines. As in _really_ huge. If he delivers what they're looking for, he'll get the cover."

Juliet couldn't remember the last time Zuri had asked her for a favor. But pretending to be Parker's girlfriend was beyond ridiculous.

"We don't even like each other."

"You haven't seen him since you went away to college. Sure, he teased you in high school, but he teased all of us. People grow up, you know."

"You forget that I saw him at Alex and Jackie's wedding reception. He was running around giving orders like a madman."

"That was four years ago. And he was in charge of the party. He wanted it to be perfect."

Alex and Jackie's wedding reception had been a stunning celebration. Parker Tavonesi had lived up to his reputation for throwing fabulous parties.

"What happened to the woman he was with at the wedding—the polo player? They looked tight."

Zuri grabbed her beach towel and shook the sand out of it. "Rachael? That's been over for years. And the woman he dated last year? We all breathed easier when that broke off. It was no fun having a supermodel around our family. She lived on _lettuce_. You could feel her freeze up from the other end of the table when cake was served. You'd think the devil had entered the room slathered in whipped cream and the world was coming to an end."

Juliet laughed. "I never trust anyone who doesn't eat cake or chocolate."

"Right there with you. Especially cake."

Juliet unwrapped the towel from her waist and pulled on her jeans. Sand shook down out of the pant legs and made her smile. The beach, the ocean and the creatures that lived in it were her life. Her passion. She gave a quick prayer of thanks that the brisk swim and the shock of the rogue wave had banished the jet lag that had dragged at her all morning.

"There has to be someone better than me. I'm a scientist, for goodness' sake, not a socialite."

"You're an actress."

"Two high school plays and one summer stock gig before my postdoc last year do not make me an actress."

Zuri flipped her head down and scrunched the towel through her hair. There'd been years when Juliet had wished for Zuri's straight brown hair instead of her own unruly mass of curls.

"The woman Parker most recently dated ran off with one of his polo mates three weeks ago." Zuri huffed through the folds of her towel. "He hasn't had a moment or an inclination to date since her abrupt departure."

"Not so good at keeping girlfriends."

Zuri flipped her head back up and eyed Juliet. "He works too hard."

Juliet quirked her lips.

"Okay, maybe he doesn't have the relationship gene. Some people don't." With a quick twist, Zuri pulled her hair into a sleek tail and secured it with the elastic she pulled from her wrist. She wasn't smiling as she turned. "Look, I'm grateful he's settled down enough to establish his winery. I was worried about him. Flitting from one party and polo match to the next doesn't make for a life. Not in the long run." She folded her hands in front of her in a prayerlike pose. "Do this for me, Juliet. I can't bear to see him fail."

"You know I'd do anything for you. But this scheme has disaster written all over it."

"He'll make a significant donation to your Hawaiian monk seal project."

"Hit me where it hurts." Juliet tugged on her T-shirt. "How significant?"

"As in huge." Zuri caught Juliet with her doe-eyed stare. "Two hundred thousand dollars."

"You're a rat."

"A very loving rat."

She couldn't refuse. Two hundred thousand dollars would make it possible to finish the construction of the seal rescue center on the outskirts of Kona. With fewer than six hundred Hawaiian monk seals living, it was a critical facility. They couldn't afford to lose even one of the endangered animals. And with that project topped off, she'd be free to head to Greece. The protection of the major sea turtle nesting beach on Zantos Island was a battle with a ticking clock. A battle she wanted to win.

"It's only for two days, Juliet. Well, that and a couple of days beforehand to teach you the ropes. You're here to visit your mom for ten days anyway."

"I'm on day three. And this was supposed to be a badly needed break."

"Hey, think of it as a caper." Zuri tapped a finger to Juliet's temple. "All that science and graduate school biz hasn't shut down my partner in fun, has it?"

"Our childhood capers didn't come with such high stakes. You of all people know that I haven't even had time to date in the last two years. I'm not sure I remember what romance looks like, let alone how to pretend to be someone's main squeeze."

Zuri aimed her phone at Juliet. "Smile."

Juliet stuck out her tongue. But then she couldn't help flashing a smile at her friend.

"See?" Zuri showed her the photo. "Piece of cake. You're perfect."

She hated looking at photos of herself. What she wished to see and the reality never lined up. Zuri was flashing a triumphant grin, and then a question hit Juliet. "Does Parker even know what you're up to?"

"Sure he does. And you can bring your mom over to see some of the shoot. She'll love it. We can fuss over her."

As they reached the parking lot, Juliet had to ask the question that had been nagging at her.

"Is Parker still convinced that he can control the universe?"

Zuri's eyes crinkled with her broad smile. "I'd be lying if I said no."

Zuri sashayed into Parker's library. She loved his book-lined sanctuary, so he didn't mind. Sometimes, when he went out of town for one of his polo matches, she'd come over, light a fire in the stone-lined fireplace, curl up with a novel and forget about the piles of work she had to do for the family foundation. It turned out that giving money away wisely was harder than any of the Tavonesi cousins and siblings had imagined.

Zuri leaned against his desk and peered over his shoulder. "I solved your _Sommelier_ problem. Juliet has agreed to be your girlfriend for the shoot."

He pushed his laptop to the back of his desk and looked up. "Juliet Cabot?"

"Do we know another Juliet?"

"Isn't she like nineteen?"

Zuri let out a groan. "She's a very worldly twenty-five. Currently a wildlife biologist working in Hawaii. And she's amazingly beautiful. But she doesn't know it." Zuri whipped her phone from her jeans pocket and flashed an image. "She'll read well in the photos."

Parker stared at the beauty with gold-tipped auburn hair. Drops of water shone on her skin, highlighting her toned arms and shoulders like a cloak of diamonds. But it was the wry smile and look of challenge in her eyes that captivated him. Still, accepting help of any sort ratcheted his nerves into defense mode. Accepting help made a man vulnerable. Deeply etched memories flooded in, dragging anger in their wake.

Zuri nudged him. "Earth to Parker."

He snapped his gaze to his sister's face. "What on earth would make her want to do such a thing?"

She grinned, and he knew he was in for it.

"I told her you'd make a two-hundred-thousand-dollar donation to her rescue center in Hawaii."

"I'm buying dates now, am I?"

"No, _I'm_ buying you a date. You're just writing the check."

"I don't want to play a charade."

"You're the family charades champ, in case that fact has slipped your mind. I still owe you your winnings from the Christmas matchup."

"Four dozen cookies."

"Today. I'll work on that today."

"Buy them at Chez Delice. Or get Mrs. Almstead to make them. I'm not sure I'd survive the result of your baking skills."

The dart of pain from her punch to his biceps had him wincing.

"I know how to bake cookies." The grin faded, and her face took on what he and Beau had come to call The Look. When she pulled that face, there was little use in arguing.

"Parker, you're the one who told me you can only launch a wine like this once. I've been around the family business long enough to know how important this article could be."

"What makes you think your friend can pull it off? I doubt she knows much about wine. Or vineyards."

"She's hung around with me over the years, so she knows a bit. Besides, you have two days to teach her the ropes. She's a quick study. She was a drama star in high school and—"

"We're importing drama queens? Doesn't this family have enough of those?"

"Be serious. And the good thing is, she's not looking for romance. Not with you."

"What's wrong with me?"

"She's not in the market for a man, let's put it that way. And we don't have time to go over all the areas where apparently you lack in the relationship arena—you have a magazine shoot to plan."

The barb about his failed relationships stung more than it should have. "When I signed up for a younger sister, I must have forgotten to mention compassion wasn't a negotiable trait."

"Juliet will play the part seamlessly, and the article will be a huge success. Just don't be pushy. She's my best friend; you hurt her feelings and you answer to me."

"If she's not looking for—how did you put it?—for romance, how could I hurt her feelings?"

"She's sensitive to her family's lack of wealth, always has been. To the differences between our lifestyle and hers. I've had to be careful over the years."

Zuri paced over to the fireplace, where the early morning fire had now gone cold. She crossed her arms over her chest as she turned back to face him.

"Jeez, Parker, do I have to spell it out?" She squared her shoulders. "Just don't make her feel insecure and you'll be fine. It'll _all_ be fine. And your launch will rock the wine world."

He let out a frustrated breath as he opened his desk drawer and pulled out his checkbook. "What's the name of the seal center?"

Zuri smiled. "Now there's the brother I've been missing for these past few months. Good to have you back. Make it out to the Hawaiian Marine Mammal Rescue Center. And by the way, Juliet will be here tomorrow at nine."

"I have a polo match in the morning. At the Regis Club."

"Get Zoe to play for you. She got back from Rome on Saturday. With Cody off to spring training, she's probably aching for a distraction."

" _You_ could do the shoot with me."

"They want romance, Parker, not pastoral scenes with your sister."

Zuri was right and he knew it. He signed the check.

"Nine a.m., Parker." She took the check he held out. Beaming the smile that usually warmed his soul, Zuri fluttered the check in her fingers. "Let the games begin."

As he sat back down at his desk, he heard a clattering in the kitchen. And a chorus of voices. His sister attempting to cook was a challenge even his stalwart housekeeper might not be up to facing.

Zuri meant well. And maybe she was right about him too. With the worry over the wine launch, he had been less than himself over the past couple of weeks. He'd let stress distract him and muddle his ability to focus. He'd missed two goals in yesterday's polo match, two goals that he usually would've shot straight through the posts.

Maybe the _Sommelier_ shoot would work out. Maybe Juliet would be perfect. He liked the part about her not being interested in actually being his girlfriend. That took the pressure off. They'd play their parts with no expectations in the way.

But he had only two days to groom her. Two days to teach her what it had taken him years to learn. Or at least enough to put up a believable front and have the shoot run smoothly. He'd have to stick to the basics, but there were a hell of a lot of basics.

He pulled a notebook from a drawer and started to make a list. Halfway down the page, he stopped. Cursing, he tore out the page, balled it up and threw it toward the fireplace. And grimaced when his shot fell short.

He stared at the wad of crumpled paper. If Elizabeth had stuck around, even for another couple weeks, he wouldn't be in this fix.

It wasn't like he was torn up over Elizabeth leaving; they'd had little in common other than their love of horses. Sure, she'd fit seamlessly into his lifestyle. But he was a stepping stone for her, and he'd known it from the start. Neither of them was looking for anything long term. And he'd been fine with that. After Rachael had left him three years ago, he'd sworn he'd never again be vulnerable.

Rachael had left a hole he didn't understand, one that he didn't plan to ever revisit. The emotional turmoil of their breakup had shaken him, and his well-ordered world had frayed. He'd made some bad decisions after she'd left, lost his ability to plan and maintain careful control. And if there was one thing he couldn't stand, it was losing control.

Deep down, he was beginning to think that maybe he sucked at relationships. He should keep things simple, date women who just wanted to have a good time, enjoy life and indulge in hot sex without attachment. Women who, like him, wanted to avoid emotional entanglements.

But a life of serial dating? Didn't that sound like the bottom of the pit.

He dragged his thoughts back into the room, back to the task at hand. Right then he had a bigger problem than imagining his future dating life.

_Sommelier_ had made it clear that they were after a lifestyle article. He'd assured them when he'd agreed to the shoot that they'd get what they were after.

But that was before Elizabeth had bailed.

They wanted a wine country couple savoring the good life together. To deliver what they expected, he needed a woman by his side. And he wanted—no, he needed—the article to be entrancing enough to guarantee him a cover.

He shut his eyes and rubbed the heels of his palms along his forehead. He could do this. He was good at pulling off stunning events. And the beauty of his estate, of the vineyards climbing the rolling hills and the excellent wine he'd lovingly coaxed from the vines would wow the journalist and photographer.

Facing the blank page, he once again began the list for training Zuri's friend. If his sister was also right about Juliet's acting skills, they might pull it off.

# Chapter Two

What's Coco doing here?" Parker tried to keep his cool. He had devised a carefully orchestrated plan to prepare Juliet for the _Sommelier_ shoot, and having Coco on site was not part of the plan.

"That's his jovial American way of greeting you," Zuri said to their petite cousin.

"I do know something of photography, Parker," Coco said in Italian-accented English. " _And_ about making shots look sensual."

"This shoot is about wine, Coco. Not an ad for a dating service."

"Ah, but you are wrong. This is about _dreams_ , my sweet cousin. Yes, the wine has to be perfect—and I'm sure yours is—but it is the alluring dream that will draw people in."

Sometimes he imagined that Coco's softly accented purr could convince anybody of anything. Too bad she was his cousin, or she could've posed as his stand-in girlfriend.

Coco lifted a portfolio from the table Zuri had set up in his guest bedroom and handed it to him. "See for yourself how the perfect setting of a scene can conjure a mood."

He flipped through the contact prints. And recognized the beginnings of the calendar she'd been working on as a fundraising project for the local women's shelter. Shirtless men surrounded by different props, each set in a different outdoor scene, covered the pages. He had to give it to her: even to him, every photo, every man, told a story and beckoned the viewer.

"I see."

Coco poked a finger to his chest. "If you and Mister So Stubborn Alex would pose and help me get a few more of the local celebrity athletes to pose, I'd be finished with my project by now." Her smile brightened. "After this _Sommelier_ article and with your big polo win last month, you'll be enough of a celebrity to help the cause immensely." She nodded to the portfolio he held. "I'm tempted to—how do you say it?—to sic Natasha on you to sway your decision."

Natasha had married Adrian, Coco's brother, but before that, the women's shelter had given Natasha a helping hand. If Natasha pressured him, his resolve not to bare his body to strangers might crack. But he doubted she'd be able to sway their cousin Alex.

Zuri snatched the portfolio from his hands. "Now is _not_ the time to revisit intransigent family traits," she said, eyeing first him and then Coco. "Or for once again pitching your project. We have work to do."

A thump followed by a muffled curse sounded from the hallway. A moment later Juliet stood at the doorway, holding a pile of clothes in her arms and dangling a violin case from one hand.

"I brought everything I could scrounge up," she said.

Her gaze flitted over Coco and landed on Parker. _Unwilling_ was the word that came to mind when he caught the look in her eyes. Zuri had bought her off, and she was there to pay her dues. It didn't bode well for portraying—what had Coco called it?—an alluring dream.

"I'll help you with those." Zuri crossed the room and took the clothes from Juliet's arms. "I think you've met my cousin Coco?"

Juliet gave a wavering smile and clutched the violin case to her chest. "Yes. At Zoe's bridal shower."

"And you remember Parker?"

Juliet's lips quirked and she nodded.

"You didn't have to bring all that clothing," Coco said. She gestured to the four racks of hanging clothes and to others laid out on the bed. "A stylist has provided everything you'll need. We just have to make sure of your size."

Coco's eyes ranged down and then up Juliet's fit body. As did Parker's. His sister had been right about Juliet growing up. The lanky girl he had fixed in his mind from years before had transformed into a lusciously curved beauty.

"Zuri was pretty sure you were a size six," Coco continued, "but we'll have time to exchange anything that doesn't fit properly. It's _all_ about the fit."

Juliet surveyed the racks of clothing lining the guest room. "I thought I could wear some of my own clothes. Make it more authentic."

Coco glided over to Juliet. "Authentic can wear many faces." She shot a glare at Parker. "If you'll leave us, Parker, we'll begin. Oh, and when the stylist and hairdresser arrive, please send them up. They got caught in traffic on the bridge."

Zuri grinned. Juliet looked miserable. And Coco had a gleeful gleam in her eyes. Like him, his cousin loved directing a project.

But project or not, he was beginning to doubt that he'd survive four days of his sister and Coco's meddling and hovering. And from the looks of her, Juliet wouldn't either.

"I think I'd rather start in the vineyard with Parker," Juliet said as she set the violin case on the bed. "I'm better with soils and plant life than with costumes."

He liked her firm, confident tone. She was a woman who knew her mind. And likely her strengths.

"Great idea," he said. "I've already spoken with the stylist and gone over key choices." He pulled a list from his jacket pocket and handed it to his sister. "These are color coded for each day and event. If you and Coco really want to be of help, sort these out."

"I can't _believe_ you went behind my back and talked to the stylist," Zuri huffed. "You're not the only one in the family with good taste, you know."

"Desperate times call for desperate measures."

Coco raised a brow but didn't argue.

Juliet fisted her hands to her hips. " _I'd_ like to have a say in what I'll be wearing." She held him in the same challenging gaze he'd seen in the photo on Zuri's phone. "It's my body, after all."

Her gaze softened as she smiled at his sister and cousin. "Don't get me wrong—I appreciate your help. God knows dressing me up to pass for wine country romance will be a feat." She touched her hand to Zuri's arm. "I promise to come back up in an hour or so and try on whatever you"—she glanced at Parker—"and he want me to. But more importantly, I need to get the feel of this place. If I don't know the basics, it'll show, no matter what I'm wearing."

"Juliet and I are the same size," Zuri said in a conciliatory tone as she surveyed the list. "I can try these on when the stylist arrives." She grinned and stroked the sleeve of a blouse hanging from a rack. "You can decide what you like best. There will be plenty of choices."

"I'll have her back up here before lunch," Parker said as he motioned Juliet toward the open door. There was no use arguing in the abstract. When the time came to choose the perfect outfit, he'd stand firm.

"If he gives you a hard time, there's a stun gun in the left-hand drawer of his desk," Zuri said as Juliet turned to leave. "Better yet, text me and I'll take care of him. It'd be my pleasure."

Juliet laughed. "Parker is the least of my worries. It's the flora and fauna that have me in a panic."

But it wasn't just learning about the vineyard and the stables and the rhythms of Parker's estate that had Juliet's stomach tied in knots. She'd forgotten how handsome Zuri's older brother was. Tall and with muscles that came from years of being a world-class polo player, he moved with the grace of an experienced athlete. He had the characteristic broad Tavonesi smile, yet she detected a sorrow behind his eyes that contrasted with his outwardly smooth charm and golden-boy aura.

She liked complexity, and Parker Tavonesi probably had complexity in spades. And from the performance she'd witnessed in the guest room, he was accustomed to having the world bend to his will. Bending to a man's will was not the assignment she'd signed up for.

"Do you ride?" he asked as they made their way through the main foyer.

It was the first question he'd directed at her. A question she hadn't anticipated.

"Passably. Nothing to impress anyone."

"Do you enjoy riding? Passably?"

There was laughter in his piercing green eyes. She couldn't help but smile back.

"It's been years. Since before I moved to Hawaii."

"I have a passable mare." His tone was teasing, and Juliet wasn't sure she didn't prefer him barking orders to the way his gentle tease sidled in and loosened the guard she was determined to keep up for the duration of the shoot.

"She's very mellow," he continued, his tone more serious. "Want to give it a go? It's a good way to see the lay of the land fairly quickly."

"I'm game." And she was. Back in Kona she'd been locked up in one meeting after another. The successful meetings had moved the rescue center through its permit process, had cleared the way to begin construction. But as she'd sat in windowless rooms, she'd longed to get out under an open sky. Riding in the countryside, no matter what challenges Parker threw her way, would be bliss.

He opened the front door, and they descended the marble steps at the front of the house. Colorful gardens spread out to touch the closest rows of grapevines. The Tavonesi family was renowned for their devotion to native plants, and she recognized many of them from her early studies. The tangled gardens were deceptive. It took careful tending to create the wild and natural look.

A hummingbird buzzed by her shoulder. She stilled and watched the bird tip its beak into a clump of natives at the garden's border. "Apparently I'm not the only one who loves Grinnell's penstemons."

Parker frowned as he watched the hummingbird gather nectar from the flower. "Adrian's wife, Natasha, designed these gardens. They would be much further along if I hadn't resisted her advice."

Shading her eyes with her hand, she turned to him. "You don't strike me as someone very good at taking advice."

He stilled, as if frozen in place by her observation.

"Advice can be a weapon in the wrong hands."

"I'll tuck that gem of an insight away." She'd hit a nerve, one that she knew too well. Discernment, especially when it came to a person's character and motivation, was a skill she was still honing. She'd done well in the negotiations for the rescue center, but if she'd had more experience, the process might've gone smoother.

He motioned to a path to their right. "We should get going."

The same mixture of colorful plants lined the path they followed to the barn a short distance behind the house. Parker asked her to wait on the paved staging area outside the stables while he saddled the horses.

Like the main house on the estate, the barn housing the stable was constructed with simple mission-style lines. But the simplicity didn't fool her. She could tell at a glance that the vast building had probably taken a team of architects a year to draft and much longer to build. _Quality_. The man and his estate exuded a dedication to excellence and attested to the careful attention to detail such quality required. She respected people who paid attention to details.

The clatter of hooves on the paved stones pulled her from her observations.

"This is Helki." He patted the neck of one of the horses. Then he turned to the second horse, saying, "She's this gelding's mother. His name is Lance." He motioned to stairs leading up to a wooden platform. "Step up here and I'll help you mount."

She hadn't expected the rush of energy that flowed through her when he wrapped his fingers around her waist and lifted her into the saddle. She tugged at her shirt and straightened her spine, but the feeling didn't dissipate. When his hands brushed her calves as he shortened the stirrups, she couldn't suppress the involuntary shiver that washed through her at his touch.

"Coming back to you?"

"Excuse me?"

"Riding. The maneuvers and commands. Is it coming back to you?"

When she didn't answer immediately, he raked a hand through his hair. "We don't have to ride. We can cover enough ground on foot."

"No. I'm fine. I was just..."

Just what? Thrown by the realization that having a man's hands around her waist could spark fire? Maybe she'd better make the time to find a boyfriend. Or at least date. How long had it been since she'd bothered to date? Nearly two years. The last guy she'd seen hadn't liked being second fiddle to her work. Maybe when she went to Greece, she'd find time for a date. Or at least an international fling.

She dragged her gaze back to Parker's. His eyes narrowed as he assessed her.

He offered his hand to help her down from the horse, but she leaned away.

"Really, I'm fine. I mean, I'll be fine. I was just remembering. Remembering how to ride, that is."

He tilted his head as he looked up at her. He must think she was a ninny. God, she was going to pretend to be his girlfriend for two days in front of a camera and answer questions from a journalist. It would be like faking a marriage to get a green card. The thought made her already-spiking nerves fire into overdrive. It took concentration to force what she hoped was a believable smile.

Parker must've taken her smile as an indication that she truly was comfortable on the mare.

"Great. I'll be right beside you, so no worries."

He leaped onto his shining black thoroughbred as if it took no effort at all, and they headed out. She'd seen him play polo a couple of times, but being up close and personal, even if the personal bit was fake, was a whole different experience. He and the horse looked like a single powerful creature.

His lips tipped up into a smile. "I'm hoping there's a violin in that case you brought."

She laughed. "Worried that I might have smuggled in a machine gun? I trust you more than that." She tugged the reins, slowing her mount's pace. "The violin was Zuri's idea. She thought that having me in some dress she's picked out and playing the violin would smack of intimacy and domesticity."

"I think it would smack of a setup."

"My words exactly. But I love her, so I brought it."

"She's rather persuasive, my sister."

"The fact that I'm here is pretty good proof."

"I thought it might have been the two hundred thousand dollars that persuaded you."

"A persuasive friend with an arsenal of bribes at her disposal is a dangerous combination."

He laughed, but Juliet didn't. His laugh resounded in her chest, its free, easy sound reminding her that he was at home but she was playing a part.

He leaned from his saddle and touched a hand to her arm. "I'd like to hear you play."

"I doubt we'll have time for that."

He raised a brow.

She didn't play in public, not anymore. Not even for an audience of one.

Changing the subject, she peppered him with questions about the vineyard as they rode along a wide path flanking a newly leafing row of vines.

Grapes. Soils. Irrigation and nutrient requirements. One good result of graduate school—she'd learned how to keep thousands of details organized in her mind. And Parker's narrative not only wove the facts into a memorable story, his telling revealed his love for the land.

Maybe he wasn't completely the arrogant older brother she remembered from her younger years during her visits with Zuri and the sleepovers at Beaumont, their family vineyard and estate. The overly commanding man she'd witnessed earlier in the day faded as he introduced her to the place he'd transformed into a veritable paradise.

Her nerves eased as she gazed out over the rolling hills. Maybe this wasn't going to be such a hardship assignment after all.

He reined up at the crest of the hill. Good thing her horse had been paying attention, or she would've run into him from behind. Entranced by the beauty of the day and the place, she hadn't been paying attention to their progress.

"My cousin Alana has convinced me to plant more olive trees on that north slope," he said, pointing to a rise in the distance. "Grapes are my passion, but I have to admit I love everything about olive trees. Their shape, the green in the winter and of course the fruit. Pretty handy that she can process the olives at her _frantoio_. Her oil won the gold in New York last year."

She didn't need to hear his words to know the depth of the passion he felt; his face beamed with joy. She knew such joy. Felt it deeply for her own work. She'd felt nearly giddy with joy when the rescue center in Hawaii had been approved and the dream started on its way to being a reality.

With Parker's donation, her work in Kona would be done. Though she'd miss the team she'd worked with in Hawaii, a tingle of excitement zipped through her belly. Soon she'd be headed to Greece. She'd had to postpone her departure twice due to permit delays, but now she was free to go to Zantos. The campaign to establish a marine park there wasn't going well. Unexpected opposition had riled up the locals and made the politicians wary. But she liked a challenge. And she liked winning. When it came to the health of the oceans and its creatures, losing wasn't in her vocabulary.

"Juliet?"

Parker's voice tore her from her musings about Zantos and back to the hillside path they were riding.

"Sorry. Just taking this all in."

He didn't need to know how pivotal his donation had been. It was a payoff. One she intended to earn.

They rode steadily, dismounting several times for Parker to show her specifics about the different soils on the slopes. They stopped at a gurgling stream to let the horses drink and nibble at the tender grass along its banks. She leaned back on her elbows and let her thoughts drift as she relaxed in the gentle spring sunshine. How long had it been since she'd relaxed?

She could get used to such a place.

Half an hour later as she stood in front of the three-way mirror in the guest room with Parker, Zuri, Coco and Athena, the stylist, Juliet wondered if she'd imagined the charming and gracious man she'd ridden with in the vineyards. The bossy, know-it-all, master-of-the-universe Parker she remembered from her youth had returned in full force.

"No, that will never do," he said as he paced in an arc behind her. He tossed aside the ruffled white blouse that Athena had chosen for their initial meeting with the journalist. It was the third outfit the stylist had proposed that he'd vetoed point-blank.

"She must look as if born to the estate, as if she were an integral part of it. These pieces you've chosen have 'trying too hard' written all over them."

His eyes traced her body. She hadn't counted on being able to feel his gaze on her as firm as a touch. Or feel the burn of his assessment in her veins.

Juliet schooled her features and raised a brow. "There's still time for you to call an escort service," she said, hoping her chiding tone and comment would set a boundary. "I'm sure they could have someone here this afternoon. A perfect size six, no doubt."

Coco, Zuri and Athena laughed. Parker didn't.

Juliet moved to hang her thumbs in the pockets of her jeans. But she wasn't wearing her jeans. The snug-fitting khaki trousers were skintight. But even she had to admit they were gorgeous. Huffing out a breath, she let her arms dangle at her sides.

If he took the bait and hired an escort, it wouldn't matter. His check was already on its way to the rescue center. He wouldn't dare call the bank and stop payment; Zuri had him well enough in hand to ensure that.

Parker crossed his arms and studied her reflection in the mirror. Juliet rolled her eyes, but his face remained impassive, his gaze focused. And despite her challenging remark, she discovered that as she met his stare, she wanted to hold up her part of their bargain.

She'd made a deal.

Principles mattered.

Always.

He turned and strode to the clothing-strewn bed and selected a tailored white cotton shirt. " _This_ is the ticket." He held up the shirt. "Once she puts this on, it will be perfect."

That she agreed with him wasn't the point. She wasn't an _it_. No wonder he had trouble keeping a girlfriend.

She stepped down off the dais in front of the mirror. As she took the shirt from his hands, she made a vow. Before this charade was over, she'd make sure he never took her input lightly. Standing up to his domineering ways was a small step she could make for womankind.

And a huge step for her.

" _It_ will be _my_ pleasure," she said.

The curve of her lips echoed her inward smile.

# Chapter Three

It's ten forty- _five_." Parker looked up from his phone. "There's no traffic on the freeway."

"If you keep pacing, you'll wear a trench in the rug," Zuri said. She turned to Juliet and the stylist. "He's a freak about starting on time."

"The world and its inhabitants often have their own time clocks," Juliet said.

Parker stopped pacing and leaned against the carved marble mantel. "So I've been told. I'm still adjusting to that fact."

"Americans would have fewer heart attacks if they could relax about time," Coco said.

Zuri chuckled. "Don't hold your breath. An adjustment like that could take him a lifetime."

He hadn't managed to convince Coco that she wasn't needed. He hadn't managed to get his sister to bug off either. And he didn't like the fact that the two of them were making him nervous.

Thank God Juliet seemed the face of calm. Zuri had insisted that Juliet spend the night and share the master suite of rooms in his guest wing with her. But when the two of them had come down for breakfast, Juliet had been distant.

The previous afternoon, she'd appeared truly interested in the workings of the winery and the basics of the vineyard. But something had shifted during their session with the stylist.

And they'd hit another wall during dinner when, at Zuri's insistence, he'd tried to teach Juliet the basic rules of polo and give her a rundown on the key players on the international circuit.

She'd scribbled furious notes, but in the end he'd suggested that if the journalist questioned her, she should just say that polo was his realm and that she focused on her work as a marine biologist. It seemed a sensible enough solution. But Juliet had bristled and told him that she was fully capable of devising her own answers.

Evidently his meddlesome sister hadn't agreed. At breakfast she'd handed him and Juliet lists of questions and insisted that they at least make an effort to know some basic background information about each other before the _Sommelier_ people arrived. She'd had a point and they'd cooperated. But trading key facts about each other's lives in staccato fashion over an espresso had somehow felt all wrong.

It wasn't like the journalist was going to ask him what Juliet's favorite color was.

_Green_.

Or what her most heartfelt dream had been when she was ten.

To be a world-class violinist and a wildlife biologist.

Or what her deepest regret was.

She tried not to hold regrets; they wasted energy that could be used for pursuing life.

He'd agreed with her on that one.

He didn't even remember half his answers to Zuri's rapid-shot questions. He'd felt like he was preparing for a trivia game show. And the ridiculous breakfast scene hadn't thawed Juliet out any.

He glanced at her as she sat, legs curled up under her in a wingback chair in his library. She was reading a book, one she'd pulled off his shelves. He found himself wondering what she'd chosen.

The sound of the gate buzzer had her snapping her gaze to his.

"Showtime," he said with a bravado he didn't feel. He walked to Juliet and held out his arm.

She laughed as she set the book aside. "I don't think we should start out quite so clichéd. Let's make them work for their story. They'll be more invested. And that will be to your advantage."

He peered at the book. _War and Peace_. He wouldn't have guessed. "Strategy this early in the morning?"

"Morning is my favorite time of day. Or perhaps you've already forgotten that answer?"

He hadn't forgotten. Her answers were emblazoned not only in his mind, some were also etched into his heart.

"I remember. And Beethoven is your favorite musician."

"Next to Madonna. I'll always have a soft spot for her. She was a groundbreaker. People forget."

She smoothed the simple white cotton shirt and stood. He shouldn't have chosen the khakis. They hugged her lithe body way too tightly. It'd be all he could do to keep his eyes off her. Yet maybe that was a good thing. _Sommelier_ wanted a hot story.

But suddenly he was aware that he wasn't faking his interest in Juliet Cabot. He took a deep breath and reminded himself what this whole performance was about. His future. The success of his wine launch.

Mixing business with pleasure was always a very bad idea. Always.

When Parker introduced Mark Gentry, the journalist who would be writing the _Sommelier_ article, Juliet breathed a sigh of relief. A man wouldn't read her thoughts as easily as a woman might.

But Barb Ellis, the photographer? She would be a different story. The moment Juliet first met the petite blonde's direct gaze, she knew it would be harder work to hide her feelings from Barb. Still, there was no choice but to keep them in check.

To the stylist's dismay, Barb approved of the simple outfit Juliet wore and said that the only clothing change they'd need would be for the session in the wine cellar later that afternoon. Athena showed her the long silk evening gown Parker had chosen, and Barb gave a nod.

Juliet enjoyed watching as Mark and Barb unraveled Parker's carefully laid plans. The first shot they had set up in the kitchen had gone well, even if Parker hadn't wanted to focus on "domestic life," as he'd put it. But capturing the feel of their domestic life seemed to be what the _Sommelier_ team was after.

She had to suppress a smile when Barb ignored the shot Parker suggested setting up out front next to his Bugatti. Instead, they set the second shot up in the kitchen garden with Parker on one side of a raised wooden garden bed and Juliet on the other. When Juliet tossed a spade of dirt at him, Barb caught the playful exchange. Barb showed them the photo on the preview screen, and even Parker agreed the shot was perfect.

Juliet's heart warmed as she watched Parker's struggle to give up control. What if that trait, that practice, was what helped him keep his life on track? Didn't she have traits just as he did? She was almost as much of a stickler as he was for details. Timing wasn't her forte, but she made lists, strategized plans and parsed days into segments with achievable goals. And like him, she didn't appreciate altering her plans without a very good reason.

"I'd like to get a few shots in the vineyard and maybe a couple more in the redwoods that I saw as we came up the drive," Barb said as she packed up her camera. "It'd be great if you rode the horses. People love country riding scenes."

As Parker and Juliet rode out from the stables with Barb and Mark following in an all-terrain vehicle, Juliet saw Parker actually begin to relax.

Barb called out to them to rein up and took a few close-ups of them on the horses. Then she directed them to dismount and pose among the newly leafing vines on one of the eastern slopes.

Mark directed questions about the vineyard to Parker while Barb got the shots she wanted.

Juliet relaxed. Posing was far easier than answering detailed questions. And listening to Parker speak about his vineyard was a pleasure she hadn't expected. She hadn't known that the pinot grapes preferred east-facing slopes because eastern slopes provided long sun exposure in the mornings but prevented the grapes from baking in the hot afternoon sun. Parker was especially pleased that he'd been able to resurrect some of the twenty-year-old vines that the previous owner's grandfather had planted, even though they'd been neglected during a protracted five-year fight over the old man's estate.

Mark's stomach let out a loud growl. "We missed breakfast," he said with an embarrassed grin.

Parker glanced at his watch. "Lunch in twenty minutes. You won't leave here hungry, I assure you."

"I'd like to get those shots in the redwoods," Barb said.

"We could do that after lunch," Parker said.

Mark nodded his agreement.

Barb tossed her head. "The light is perfect now. It won't take long." She was clearly the one in charge.

Juliet knew Parker well enough by now to know that he wouldn't be happy if his carefully orchestrated lunch didn't go as planned. But he shrugged and helped Juliet mount Helki.

He rode up close to her. "If Mark asks me questions about the redwood trees, feel free to jump in and answer. I've studied up on grapes, but I'm not much of a woodsman."

"No Boy Scout badges for camping?"

"No Boy Scout badges at all. And I never understood camping. When I travel, it's usually for polo. At the end of a match, I like a very hot shower, room service and a good bed."

The image of him in the shower shot into her, and she blushed. And thinking of him in bed sent the blood higher into her face. Gripping the reins, she forced her thoughts away from her surprising fantasies.

"How about you?" His lips tipped up on one side in a smile she wished didn't look so darn sexy. "Any badges for outdoor prowess?"

She pointed to the sky. "I can tell you that the bird soaring above us is a red-shouldered hawk."

Anything to distract him from noticing the blush still spreading over her cheeks.

"I've always been better with animals than with people," she added. "More at home in nature. Especially the oceans."

"But you're good with people. I see it."

"Is that a compliment?"

"An observation."

She hoped his keen powers of observation didn't include noting the flush in her face.

"I've had to learn how to deal with people, almost like learning a new language. Especially the diplomatic bits that go along with my work. Kowtowing to authorities is pure torture."

"I appreciate your help with..." He glanced back to Mark and Barb behind them in the ATV. "With all this. With them."

"Everybody needs help sometime."

He shifted in his saddle. "I prefer helping to asking."

"I noticed."

She'd had to learn to ask for help and it hadn't been easy. Being in anyone's debt struck terror into her. But Parker? From what she'd observed, his aversion to asking for help was about maintaining control. And something deeper. Something he feared.

Before she could wonder what had driven him to require such control, he lifted a shoulder in a slight shrug. His smile caught her off guard.

"Like I said—if they ask about the trees, jump right in."

In that instant, her vow transformed. She no longer wanted him begging her for forgiveness for his bossy ways. She wanted to understand him. He was her bestie's brother; likely they'd know each other forever. Might as well find common ground.

But as they posed among the redwoods for Barb's camera, it wasn't common ground she was discovering.

Following Barb's instructions, Parker had slid one arm behind Juliet and leaned her back against the rough bark, nearly cocooning her with his body. His hip touched hers and set her heart thumping against her ribs. She hauled in a breath, and his scent—spicy, _male—_ filled her senses.

"That's it," Barb called out from behind her lens. "Put one arm above her and turn a bit more toward her and the tree."

Parker raised his other arm. He was so close, Juliet could feel his breath on her cheek. She kept her gaze on Barb and hoped that her racing pulse didn't show.

"Juliet? Look him in the eye."

She lifted her gaze. What she saw in the depths of his gold-flecked green eyes had her fighting for control.

"That'll do," Barb said. "I got my shot."

Juliet wriggled out from under Parker's arm. He backed away but didn't take his eyes off her.

"You two are great subjects," Barb said. "But you probably know that." She peered at the screen on her camera. "I wouldn't mind getting a few insurance shots, though."

Mark tapped his belly. "Nope. Lunch." He motioned to the ATV. "We'll race you back."

The chatter surrounding Juliet felt distant and far away. She swayed. Parker caught her before she toppled.

"You need lunch more than Mark does," Parker said as he curved an arm around her waist.

"I should've had more breakfast."

If they hadn't been so busy memorizing answers to questions that weren't even being asked, she would've had a second helping of fruit salad. But it wasn't low blood sugar that had made her dizzy.

She didn't want to think about the fact that Parker made her legs go wobbly. That was the stuff of tall tales and of TV shows she heard about but never watched.

Parker pressed his hands to her shoulders and stared into her eyes. The concern she saw there was easier to register than the smoldering look that had sent her senses spinning just moments before.

"Ride in the ATV with Mark and Barb," he said. "I'll lead Helki back. You're in no shape to ride."

# Chapter Four

Wow. You two do it up right," Mark said as they made their way into Parker's dining room. Someone had cleared away breakfast and set the table with gleaming silver and sparkling crystal glasses. Arrangements of wildflowers were artfully scattered down the center of the polished table and flanked by cream-colored candles, their flames lit and dancing.

Parker showed Barb to a seat at the side of the table. He held her chair, and Barb seemed awkward as she allowed him to push it in once she was seated. He motioned Mark to the seat beside Barb and then proceeded around to the other side of the table to hold a chair for Juliet.

She had a hard time reconciling the strapping six-foot-four raw-muscled polo champ with this man—a man who obsessed over every detail of an event as if the world depended on the outcome. Her initial assessment was true; Parker Tavonesi was a complex man.

Creative pursuits within a person could clash with each other. Hadn't she had to give up being a professional violinist in order to devote herself to graduate work in marine biology? She'd spent torturous months debating her decision. But Parker managed to maintain harmony in his life of varied pursuits and interests. Perhaps such a balancing act required careful control.

A uniformed server placed colorful salads featuring greens from the kitchen garden in front of each of them. Mark asked about the flowers strewn on the plates.

"All edible," Parker said. "Lots of vitamins in nasturtium and borage flowers."

Mark eyed his plate and took a forkful of his salad. "Once a New Yorker, always a New Yorker. I'm still adjusting to California cuisine."

"That means he prefers burgers," Barb said as she finished the last of her salad.

"Then you might enjoy the salmon burgers in the next course," Parker said.

During their meal, Mark didn't ask very many personal questions. In fact, he didn't ask about Juliet's work at all. At first she felt snubbed. But then she recognized that this wasn't about her. And Mark's focus on the wine, the vineyards and Parker saved her from having to fabricate lies. What if he had asked how she and Parker maintained a relationship with her work being three thousand miles away? And what if he discovered she was soon to double that distance?

Parker nudged her. "Mark was asking if you prefer the Sonoma pinots to the Napa cabernets?"

She selected a fact she'd gleaned from her Internet research the previous evening.

"I think the high resveratrol content of the pinots, the heart-protective qualities, while not affecting the sensory enjoyment of the wine, will soon draw attention from health-minded consumers."

"Perfect—a health angle. I love it." Mark scribbled madly. He was old-fashioned, so no recorded interviews for him.

Parker smiled. She'd surprised him. A little thrill at having caught him unaware danced through her.

"Burgers and red wine. Does one cancel the other?" Barb chided.

Mark waved his fork and grinned. "I'm counting on it."

After lunch, Juliet changed into the sleek silk evening dress and headed down into the wine cellar with the stylist and hairdresser. It felt weird to be in such a fancy dress at two in the afternoon. Heck, it felt odd to be in such a fancy dress at any time. The dress and the shoes probably cost more than an entire month's pay.

When she reached the wine cellar, Athena tugged at her dress and Brandy fussed with her hair. Barb had arranged a bank of lights in front of a wine barrel. A silver tray set holding two crystal glasses sat in its center.

But Juliet's mind was captured by the scent of the cellar—cinnamon and berries and a deeper aroma she couldn't identify. But she recognized the mélange of scents as Parker's. She'd caught whiffs of the heady aroma in the guest room the previous morning and then again when he'd leaned in close for the shots in the redwood grove. But Parker wasn't in the cellar.

Dimmed ceiling lights curved down the tunnel that led deeper into the wine cave. She shook off the hairdresser and peered into the darkness. When footsteps sounded behind her, she turned.

And sucked in a breath.

If she had thought Parker handsome in his riding clothes, a perfectly tailored tuxedo made him devastating.

His eyes landed on Juliet. He ran a hand through his hair as he looked first down and then up. "My God, you are a vision."

Juliet couldn't tear her gaze from Parker's. She managed a smile and a nod, but didn't trust her voice. For a moment, no one moved. The only sound was their collective breathing, as if the cellar had lungs of its own.

"Well," Athena said, breaking the spell. "That's the whole idea, after all."

"I'll need to angle this light," Barb said.

Brandy moved toward Parker, pulling a brush from the belt of implements at her waist.

Parker held up a hand. "I do have limits," he said in a gentle but firm tone, his eyes never leaving Juliet's. He shook his head as if he were shaking off a troublesome thought. "And before we do this shot, I'd like for all of you to taste the wine I'm launching."

He strode to a cabinet at the far side of the arched room and began to pull out glasses. Juliet let out the breath she'd been holding and moved to help him.

"No." Athena put a hand to Juliet's wrist. "You might muss your dress."

God, she'd forgotten about the dress.

"Though we'll have our wine critic taste all of these, I'd love to taste your wine here in its home setting," Mark said.

Parker pulled a bottle from the cabinet. "This pinot is only three years in the bottle, but it's ready."

"I feel like we should have a drum roll or something," Barb said from behind the light she was adjusting.

The thrumming of Juliet's pulse was all the drum roll she could stand.

"As much as I'd like to, we won't have to come back tomorrow," Mark said. "After this session, Barb will have what she needs, and I have more than enough for the article."

Juliet sighed, relieved.

Parker poured wine and handed out the glasses.

Juliet reached for hers.

Athena took the glass from Parker's hand. "Best to wait until after Barb gets her shots."

"You must think I'm clumsy."

"No one could ever accuse you of that."

Parker's sultry tone rolled through her. No one had ever called her graceful. And though he hadn't, she heard the message in his words. The compliment pleased her more than it should have.

"Just a precaution," Athena added. "I've learned from experience." She eyed Juliet. "We'd have a hard time coming up with another gown that looked like this one does on you."

Parker leaned close to Juliet's ear. "I'll make it up to you after. You can have your own private bottle."

"I might need it by then." She shook off the shiver threatening to take up long-term residence in her body. "Maybe a case."

"Upping the ante?" he whispered, his teasing tone warming her belly.

He'd already paid far more than he should have. "No. But I will be glad when we're done here. I'm sure you will be too."

He held her gaze. "Maybe. I guess we'll see, won't we?"

Everyone except Juliet sipped the wine, admired it in the light and murmured kudos to Parker. There was talk between Mark and Parker about the aroma of the pinot varietals. Juliet concentrated on the words, the facts, anything to keep from looking Parker in the eye.

"I think at five years this wine will be at its peak," he said, as proud as any artist would be over the fruits of his work.

"Black cherry and..." Mark paused. "I was going to say ripe tomato or mushroom. Smooth. Balanced."

Parker beamed.

"Delicious," Barb said as she set her glass down on the cabinet. "And now, time for work, gang. The sooner we wrap, the sooner Juliet can imbibe."

At first Parker stood on one side of the barrel and Juliet on the other. Barb instructed them to raise their glasses and touch the rims together as if in a toast. Her camera whirred as she ran off a few shots. She looked at her preview screen and frowned.

"I think they should kiss," Mark said in a matter-of-fact tone.

"I think you've had too much wine," Parker said.

"No, he's right. _Romance_. That's what's missing from this piece," Barb said. "You two aren't shy, so let's try it. I'd like to shoot it from this angle. Mark, give me a hand with these two lights."

Barb tugged Juliet close to Parker and then took up her camera a few steps away.

The new light positions threw a golden glow across Parker's face. The soft light played over the sculpted planes of his jaw and cast the shadows of his long lashes onto his cheeks.

Juliet leaned close. "Now you _really_ need my help," she whispered. And without further comment, and before she could chicken out and blow their cover, she raised her hands and pulled his head down so that her lips touched his.

Her body quivered at the contact. She closed her eyes and brushed a light kiss along his lips. Trembling, she pulled away. She opened her eyes and, not trusting her ability to school her features, looked down at her hands.

Barb moved to their right. "Can we try that again from this angle?"

Neither Juliet nor Parker moved.

"And keep your eyes open for this one. I want to capture you gazing into each other's eyes," Barb said.

"One more," Juliet said, trying to keep the waver out of her voice.

Parker moved first. His hand slid up her bare back and shot shivers along her spine. Juliet's gaze locked with his. He looked as stunned as she felt. Or maybe she was projecting. But as he leaned down and kissed her, the lights, the room and the people in it melted away, and she was locked in the throbbing energy of his kiss.

Shocked at her response, she broke off their kiss and stepped back from him. Leaning her palms on the wine barrel to steady herself, she turned to the camera and pasted a false smile on her face that would've had her drama coaches applauding.

Then she turned to Parker. His lips were pressed together in a tight line.

"Smile," she whispered so that only he could hear. "Mission accomplished," she added, widening her own smile.

He flashed a quick grin that only she knew wasn't real. Athena, Brandy and Mark applauded. But Barb stared at them, head nodding, her lips quirked into a smile as if they'd pleased her. Juliet could only hope that the camera had captured what Barb had wanted it to. The way Juliet's legs were trembling beneath her gown, she couldn't pull off a repeat performance.

"That's a wrap," Barb said as she flashed through the shots on the preview screen. "We definitely have our cover shot."

Parker handed Juliet her glass of wine. "I'm thinking you might need this. God knows I do." He turned from her and filled everyone's glasses.

Barb flashed the shot for the cover to the group. Still stunned by Parker's kiss, Juliet barely registered the good news. Her heart stuttered when she saw the photo. Anyone viewing it would think she and Parker were truly in love.

"To First Flight wines," Mark said as he clinked his glass against Barb's. "And to _your_ always amazing work."

"He says that to all the ladies." Barb set her glass down and began to wrap the light cords into their cases. She looked up at Juliet. "Have you set a date?"

"April twentieth," Parker answered.

"I'm sure you already have your dress," Barb said. "But if you don't, my friend Vera has the most delicious wedding designs. They'd be gorgeous on you."

Juliet couldn't look her in the eye.

Parker topped off the glass that Barb had set aside. "That's the date we're launching First Flight."

Barb smiled and picked up her glass. "Ah, yes." Her eyes slid to Juliet. "First things first."

Thankfully, the sound of raised voices coming down the passageway had everyone turning.

"You _really_ are a rat," Zuri said, aiming her comment at her brother as she and Coco burst into the room. "Did we miss all the action?"

"You could say that," Parker said. "But I saved you a taste."

Coco sidled over to Barb. Juliet heard her asking for tips about lighting and camera angles.

Parker poured wine into a glass and handed it to Zuri. He turned to Juliet and raised the bottle. She shook her head. Her head was spinning well enough without alcohol. Zuri knit her brows as she looked from her to Parker and back again to her.

Mark took out his notebook and began peppering Parker with questions about the launch.

Before Zuri could corner her with questions, Juliet slipped out of the room. The stiletto heels made it hard to navigate the brick flooring of the dim passageway, but it wasn't the shoes that made her feel unsteady. What had happened back there? Flaring passion she didn't want to admit to feeling flooded her as she finally exited the tunnel and stepped out into the daylight.

She didn't stop walking until she reached the barn. Just past the entrance, she sank down onto a bale of hay, ignoring the prickle of the straw through the silk of her dress.

Lowering her head to her hands, she pressed her palms to her eyes. She hadn't planned on her heart having to pay the price of her deception.

"Yo!" Zuri's voice startled her. "Hope you don't mind that I followed you." Zuri sat on the bale next to her. "Hey, you okay?"

"Just tired."

"We could spend the night here. Unwind. Have a girls' night. You can drive home in the morning."

"I should get back. We wrapped the shoot."

"I heard. Parker seems pleased."

When Juliet didn't respond, she added, "This was really, really good of you. Parker said you played your part _perfectly_. He even admitted I was right—pulling this off was so much easier without all the stickiness of attraction."

But she hadn't played her part perfectly. Her heart had pulled up stakes and crossed the line and now... Now she had to corral it back to reality.

But at hearing Parker's words via Zuri, her anger fired and she couldn't stuff it down.

No stickiness of attraction.

Well, wasn't that a kicker?

When had her feelings begun to run away with her? To obliterate her good sense?

She shouldn't feel anger toward him. He'd donated to the foundation. He'd done everything he said he would.

Zuri tapped Juliet on the knee. "He owes you, you know. He told me so this morning."

"He doesn't owe me. He wrote the check."

Zuri narrowed her eyes. "Did he do something he shouldn't have? I'll have his—"

"Zuri, he was a perfect gentleman."

"Well, he has many talents, my brother. If you ever need help, just ask." She laughed. "I doubt you'll need a polo player, but he's really good at throwing parties."

Juliet stood and brushed the hay from her gown. "I need to change. And I should get going. Mom will be thrilled that I can have dinner with her tonight. Especially since she couldn't make it for the shoot."

And maybe, after a good night's sleep in familiar surroundings, she'd wake up and be able to remember the past two days for what they were—a caper. Wasn't that what Zuri had called it?

She'd fly back to Kona early, wrap up her work there and make her reservations to fly to Greece.

And try to forget the chasm that Parker had unwittingly opened in her heart. Try to forget a caper gone wrong.

# Chapter Five

There was nothing Parker liked better than a great party. Well, almost nothing. He did like winning a ball-busting polo match and the satisfaction of a great grape harvest.

He stared out at the party he'd arranged for his brother's birthday. The band blared out a brilliant cover of "Stand by Me." Dancers shouted and raised their hands over their heads on the dance floor, and Beau gave him a thumbs-up from across the room.

But his thoughts weren't caught up in the swirl of lights, pulsing music and celebrating dancers.

Five minutes before the first guests had arrived, Juliet's email had arrowed into his life, upsetting the smooth facade he preferred to show to the outside world.

He hadn't heard from Juliet since the day of the _Sommelier_ shoot, two and a half months ago. _Except_ for her formal thank-you for his donation to the seal rescue center. On letterhead. Typed.

A week later he'd sent her the email announcing the party for the First Flight launch. He'd added a postscript reminding her that if she ever needed him, all she had to do was ask. She'd responded by checking the response box that said _Not Attending_.

Though he appreciated what social media made possible for marketing his business, he preferred old-fashioned, face-to-face communication. It left less to interpretation.

To the imagination.

He didn't blame Juliet for taking off without saying goodbye. Just as he couldn't be angry with his sister. He regretted his insensitive remarks, but by the time he'd heard of their conversation, the damage had been done.

Perhaps Zuri's truth-telling had been for the best. He wasn't relationship material. And a woman like Juliet deserved a man who was.

After the wine launch, he'd thrown himself into hard riding, harder work at the vineyard and crafting the perfect elaborate party for Beau's birthday. As if the fiendish buzz of busyness would salve the regret that tugged at him.

He skirted the dance floor and walked along the rose-lined garden path that led to his library. A tap of his finger and Juliet's message lit his computer screen.

Her simply worded email alarmed him.

_I need you for a matter of great importance. Come to Zantos_. _I'll explain when you arrive._

The three short sentences were already pulling him across the thousands of miles to Greece. Knowing her, she'd had to swallow her pride to even ask him for help.

He owed her. Big-time. More than she knew.

The magazine cover and five-page article had shot First Flight and his vineyard to world prominence. He'd sold out the vintage and had orders for the next. The cover photo of him and Juliet kissing had gone viral. No one could buy publicity like that.

He stared at the cover he'd had framed to hang on the wall of his library. Like a sentinel guarding a world beyond his grasp, the cover glared at him, mocking him.

How could memories be both delicious and disturbing at the same time?

He could still feel the lushness of Juliet's lips and the heat of her skin beneath his hand. He'd loved the spunky way she'd sparred with him. _Loved_? Maybe too strong a word. He wasn't sure he was cut out for that fine emotion.

He ignored the voice of warning whispering in the depths of his mind as he put his fingers on the keyboard. She'd asked for help, he would give it.

With a few clicks, he had a reservation for a flight to Athens the next evening. And a flight out to Zantos Island after he had time to clear customs. Another few clicks, and a few typed words that didn't reveal any of the mixed emotions roiling through him, and he'd informed Juliet of his arrival.

# Chapter Six

Pain screamed from Juliet's ankle. She backed her scooter up against the wall of her rented cottage and ripped off her helmet. Bending down, she saw the trickle of blood running toward her sneaker. Her encounter with the rock would leave a bruise and a scrape, nothing more. But it was a warning.

_Slow down_.

When she moved too fast, she made mistakes.

But the ferry Parker would arrive on would land in forty-five minutes, barely enough time to peel off her sweat-soaked clothes, shower and make it to Zantos Harbor.

The rent on her place in the hills was cheap, but the ancient building needed an upgrade. The plumbing, what there was of it, was probably from the nineteenth century. She had to make do with one sink—the one in the kitchen—a toilet in the tiny bathroom and a narrow tiled shower squished in beside it. But the view out over the Ionian Sea from her windows was breathtaking. She'd have paid double—no, triple—the price just to look out at the sparkling blue ocean every day. Who needed a sink in the bathroom anyway?

Her cellphone pinged as she stepped out of the tiny shower stall built into the back corner of her cottage.

Water dripped on the planked wooden floor as she pawed in her backpack for her phone.

"This better be good, Andreas. I'm already behind schedule."

He laughed. "Americans and their schedules. You're on Greek time now."

"But the ferry isn't." She grabbed the towel from her bed. "What's up?"

"I think you should tell the police about the threats you've received. I—"

" _No_ way. We have enough opposition to the marine park without me becoming gossip fodder and whipping up tensions by going to the police." She sat down on the twin mattress and rubbed the towel against her hair. "It was probably just kids fooling around."

Andreas gave the click of his tongue against his teeth that she'd come to know as a very strong sign of disapproval. Greeks had a hundred ways to express themselves without words, and she was learning most of them through the outspoken Andreas and the center's volunteers.

"We don't have those kind of kids around here."

Andreas had interned with her in Hawaii. He was the best of the best of colleagues. And he batted for the other team.

_Without all the stickiness of attraction_. After two and a half months and thousands of miles separating them, Parker's words still stung. But there was truth in them. Working with a handsome stud like Andreas was easier without the possibility of romance looming over their interactions.

She was glad she hadn't told Andreas about the message she'd discovered scrawled on the mirror of her scooter that afternoon. And now she wished she hadn't told him about the letters. But her Greek was passable at best. She'd needed someone she could trust to translate the block-printed messages.

But after translating the threatening letters for her, Andreas had started to hover. Greeks were protective of women, especially those they were close to. Andreas had four younger sisters. His impulse to protect didn't bode well for getting him to let up on his crusade to get her to go to the police.

But the threats had been vague. Probably made by one of the locals who didn't like foreigners meddling in island business.

Still, the letters had spurred her to tighten the campaign timeline and ramp up the plans for the series of community events she'd planned.

She'd do almost anything to convince the good people of Zantos that the sea turtle nesting beaches were worth protecting.

Including asking Parker Tavonesi for help.

"I promise to keep an eye out and to let you know if anything strange happens."

Andreas huffed into the phone. "Not good enough, Juliet."

"Okay... I'll tell my friend Parker. He'll keep an eye out."

Andreas had teased her about Parker. About the reason she'd asked for his help. She'd had to warn him that Parker wasn't gay, even if he was a maniac about decor and foods and parties. They'd had a friendly fight about stereotypes, hers and his.

When he'd narrowed his eyes and suggested she had a romantic interest in Parker, she'd scoffed. In response, Andreas had accused her of being blinded by the worst kind of prejudice—the kind you live with every day but don't acknowledge. The kind that prevents the truth from taking root. The kind that allows people to deceive themselves. She'd batted his words away and changed the subject, but his message still simmered in her mind.

"I'm hanging up now, _mitera mou_ ," she teased, using the Greek endearment for mother. "I'll see you bright and early for the planning meeting tomorrow."

The time flashed on the phone's screen as she clicked off the call. She hauled her wet hair up into a ponytail and threw on shorts and a clean T-shirt from the pile next to her bed. The pile she kept promising herself she'd sort and fold.

Maybe Andreas's call had been a blessing. He'd kept her from having time to worry about what she'd wear to greet Parker.

As if it mattered.

The last time she'd seen him, she'd been wearing a couture gown, her hair professionally dressed, her makeup perfect. And that decked-out encounter had resulted only in a tangle of feelings that had taken her weeks to shut down.

Andreas was right about one thing: she hadn't admitted how deeply the two days with Parker had affected her. Her heart had thrown in, wanting him, as had her traitorous body. She hadn't denied those truths. The truth she resisted was that he'd touched a deep place in her that the passage of time hadn't made any easier to forget.

And attempting to distract herself with another man during the week she'd arrived on Zantos had been a disaster.

She'd literally run into the ridiculously handsome and charming Greek man in front of the market in town. Nikos had introduced himself and then helped her pick up the groceries that had scattered at their impact. After helping her strap her bundles in the basket of her scooter, he'd invited her to a seaside taverna for coffee. And the coffee date had stretched into the evening of her day off. Wine and dinner at a seaside taverna had followed. But she'd kept her distance that first night. Nikos had been charming and attentive. And he'd made her laugh.

He'd come around her cottage the next day with flowers—wildflowers that he'd picked on the hillside. And he'd taken her on a tour of the island. Nikos knew Zantos well, as his mother's family went back seven generations.

He knew the locations of secret, serene beaches, the best cliffside tavernas, even the villages where women still loomed small rugs by hand and potters threw clay on wheels turned with their feet.

That second night, after dinner, he'd parked near the harbor, the lights of the town twinkling and hugging the curving hills like a jeweled lizard curling up to rest for the evening. He'd unbuckled his seat belt and leaned across his car and kissed her.

And she'd kissed him back.

And though she'd wanted to be swept away, yearned for a fling to move her forward and away from the tumbling emotions Parker had ignited, she'd known in that moment that Nikos wasn't the man to do it. The thing about a kiss was there's no lying. Not really. At least not for her.

But when she'd told Nikos she needed to focus on her work, that she didn't really have time for dating, he hadn't let up. He'd insisted on coming by the little office that served as headquarters for the Oceana marine park campaign and inviting her for lunches and outings. Each time she'd cried off, using work as her excuse.

He'd seemed more than basically curious about the work her team was doing. And one day, after he'd been at the office, one of the binders holding the plans for the marine park and the team's strategies had gone missing. Two days later she'd received the first of the threatening letters.

The timing could've been a coincidence.

There were plenty of people on Zantos who didn't like having an international wildlife group interfering in the life of the island. _Their_ island. Her job was to help them see how much they would gain long term from the establishment of the marine park. And what they would lose if they allowed the beaches to be destroyed.

Nikos had continued to text and leave phone messages. She answered some of them. She liked him. He said he wanted to remain friends, that she was a special woman in his life. What could she say to that? She'd texted back saying that after she wrapped up the campaign, maybe they could catch up over a cup of tea. The next day, the texts stopped. And he hadn't returned to headquarters since the day the binder had disappeared.

It took her and Andreas an extra week to re-create the missing information. Whoever had the binder had a damned detailed outline of their campaign strategies and plans.

It wasn't as though her team was doing anything secretive or underhanded. But the element of surprise was helpful in situations where traditions created prejudice against change. Or at least where some used traditions to argue against progress, even progress that would enhance rather than damage those traditions.

What hadn't been in the missing binder were the details of the party they'd planned to kick off the official campaign. If the event was the success she was sure it could be, the good citizens of Zantos would rally around the plans for the park.

And Parker Tavonesi, with his diplomatic skills and worldly experience, would know exactly how to help her make the party a success.

During their weekly Skype calls, she'd had to swear Zuri to silence regarding the reason she was asking Parker to come to Zantos. If he'd known that she wanted him to plan a party, he probably wouldn't be on a ferry and headed her way. But Zuri had assured her that with the wine launch behind him, Parker was up for a fresh challenge.

Juliet grabbed lip gloss from beside the kitchen sink and ran it over her mouth. And talked her flutters down as she hopped back on her scooter.

Loose gravel caught her tires as she headed down the hill to the main road leading to the harbor.

_Slow down_.

Repeating the mantra a dozen times each day hadn't had much effect. Time constraints pushed hard against her better judgment.

The legislation for the marine park was about to go in front of the prime minister for his consideration. If he pushed it aside, it could take years to get a draft declaration in front of him again.

Time was not her friend.

Traveling the stunning countryside flanking the harbor town usually filled her with awe. But not today. The green hills dotted with pear orchards in full bloom and the aqua-blue sea barely registered and didn't derail her battling thoughts.

Maybe she should've told Parker about the incidents and the threatening letters. But she hadn't wanted him storming in, demanding an investigation and upsetting the fragile relationships her team had forged. And she hadn't wanted him to turn her down.

At least she hadn't lied.

She'd only omitted some facts.

All of them.

When he'd fired back his email saying he was coming, he'd asked what sort of help she needed. She'd said she'd explain when he arrived. To her relief, he hadn't pressed her for details.

Under the mantle of charm and showmanship, she'd discerned he was a reasonable man.

Besides, he'd said he owed her.

# Chapter Seven

Parker was easy to spot among the crowd lined up along the bow of the ferry as it churned toward the dock. He met her eyes and gave a broad smile and a wave.

Juliet stuffed down the surge of apprehension tightening in her chest, lifted her hand from the railing of the harbor dock and waved back.

It would've been less nerve-racking to meet him at the airport. Meeting a ferry in the glittering Zantos harbor smacked of romance. The sterile airport with its security checkpoints and guards sure wouldn't have.

But the Greek airlines had gone on strike that morning. For the third time in a month. She could just imagine what Parker had thought about the four-hour bus ride from Athens to the ferry landing in Killini. It had probably been a century since a Tavonesi had taken a bus. The thought shouldn't have made her smile.

He'd texted his change in plans and the new ferry arrival time. But nothing in his messages clued her in to his frame of mind.

Parker was among the last of the passengers to disembark. She made her way down the dock, glad to see that he had only a small duffle bag slung over his shoulder. Before she reached him, he stopped a porter and signaled for the man to follow him back into the cabin of the ferry.

Juliet tapped her fingers on the dock's wooden railing and rehearsed her carefully planned speech. She'd omit the bits about the threats, but she'd cover all the important facts about the marine park, the endangered turtles and—her thoughts stopped as she spied Parker emerging from the ferry cabin. The porter followed him, hauling a dolly piled with five huge suitcases.

"Those aren't all yours, are they?"

"Hello to you too," he said with a light laugh. He glanced at the cases. "Just the four on the bottom. The top one belongs to that lovely lady over there."

He pointed to a well-dressed redhead standing next to a waiting limo. A small white poodle on a leash sat, obedient, at her feet.

Juliet eyed the suitcases. "But I have a scooter."

"Great. I need some fresh air."

"A _scooter_ , Parker."

He tilted his head. "I do speak English, you know."

A lock of sun-burnished hair fell across his forehead, capturing her attention. She couldn't help studying his face, his body. He looked the epitome of a relaxed and wealthy man beginning a holiday. How could a man who'd traveled for the better part of two days look so pulled together?

He turned to the porter and in rough but serviceable Greek instructed the man to deliver the woman's suitcase to the limo and then to find him a taxi.

"What on earth do you need all those suitcases for?"

"This is me traveling light."

"Seriously."

He waggled his brows. "A man has to have some secrets." He pulled out a small notebook and a pen from a side pocket of the duffle. "I need to give the taxi driver the name of my hotel. Then I'd enjoy accompanying you on your scooter. Might help blow the jet lag out a bit."

She stared as the porter wheeled the suitcases to the redhead's limo. Juliet hated that she was aware of the looks that passed between the woman and Parker.

He noticed her noticing. "She helped to pass the time. Austrian. Loves the beaches on this island."

"That's part of the problem," Juliet muttered.

"Redheads?"

His teasing tone irritated her.

"My scooter's over there." She took off toward it. Let him follow.

"You drive," Parker said as if she'd offered him a choice. "I'll gawk."

"Apparently you're quite good at gawking."

He grinned.

She'd already let him get to her.

His grin widened into a smile. "I like to keep my observation skills sharp." He looked her up and down. "Island life suits you."

She tugged at her wrinkled shorts. "I think the bus ride must have rattled your brain."

He laughed. "I assure you, the bus ride rattled much more than my brain."

His cheery mood should've put her at ease. She'd seen only brief glimpses of the lighthearted Parker during the _Sommelier_ shoot, but at that time he'd had something at stake. And now it was she who had something at stake. Evidently it was easier to be teasing and friendly when the stakes weren't yours to worry about.

Parker strapped his duffle into her cargo basket. He donned the helmet she handed him and gestured to her scooter. "Ladies first."

She straddled the scooter. He hopped on behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist.

_Mistake_ , her mind whispered. Even through the diesel fumes from the ferry and the marine-laced breeze coming off the harbor, his scent wafted around her, enveloping her and sparking memories of their kiss.

She balanced the scooter and turned the key in the ignition. And tried to ignore the warm cocoon of his body and the steady beat of his heart against her back.

As they traveled along the narrow country road, she answered his questions about the geography of the island with short sentences. And stuck with the facts. The ones she was prepared to share.

The hotel she'd booked for him was about half a mile from the Oceana headquarters in the small coastal village of Kalanos. Although, calling it a village was a stretch. Aside from the hotel, there was only an old taverna and a store that sold sundries for tourists and produce from the local farms.

Juliet stopped the scooter in front of the hotel. When Parker dismounted, she hauled in the first full breath since he'd wrapped himself around her.

She hadn't expected her attraction to him to be so raw. So hard to ignore. But hadn't Andreas warned her that she'd been fooling herself about Parker? Maybe she had. But she wasn't going to let a pointless attraction derail her mission. The fact that he'd made it clear he wasn't worried about any _stickiness of attraction_ had made it easier to ask him for help.

Parker shaded his eyes with his palm and stared out at the bay across the street from the hotel.

"There's no word for such a blue." He turned to her. "You could've mentioned you were luring me to paradise. I would've borrowed my cousin's jet and been here two days ago."

His jest only served to remind her of the vast gap between their worlds. Joking about private jets wasn't part of her repertoire.

"You might rethink the paradise bit when you see your accommodations." She motioned up the coast. "There are better hotels closer to the harbor, but this one is the only one near headquarters."

"I'm just grateful I'm not camping."

His teasing reference brought back riveting memories of their first embrace in the redwood groves. Memories that time had not faded.

"I'll fill you in once you're settled." She managed a cool tone in spite of the rollicking surge of adrenaline that threatened to unravel her.

"Settled." He turned the word as if it were a fine chocolate melting in his mouth.

She wasn't going to look at his mouth. Definitely wasn't going to remember the feel of his lips on hers. He'd been here less than an hour, and already she was responding like a tuning fork to notes played by a master musician.

"If my family has it right, waiting for me to settle could take a lifetime," he said over his shoulder as he strode to the wooden table that served as the reception desk.

Juliet caught up with him and tapped her hand to his forearm. "I've already taken care of registering you and paying. All they need is your passport."

He responded by pulling out his wallet.

"There's no way I'd let you pay. Consider it a donation to the cause." He flashed his credit card to the woman at the desk, gave his name and proceeded to swap the payment to his account.

After confirming that he had a balcony overlooking the bay, he directed the desk clerk to send his luggage to the room when the taxi arrived.

He turned to her. "By the way, what is the cause?"

She slid a glance to the woman and then back to him. She didn't yet know where the owners of the hotel stood on the issue of the marine park.

"Later," he said as he caught her glance. "I need to change out of this wrinkled shirt and splash some water on my face. Come on up to the room with me. We can enjoy the view from my balcony while you fill me in."

His shirt wasn't wrinkled, but she owed him an explanation and needed to bring him up to speed on her plan. Sooner was as good as later.

She was grateful he didn't change his shirt in front of her. But even without visual cues, all sorts of sensual images snaked into her head while he was in the bathroom. The splashing of water and the faint tune he hummed didn't help.

She managed to squelch the images by rehearsing her carefully scripted speech, sentence by sentence, in her mind.

The bathroom door opened. The crisp oxford he'd changed into fit him like the shirt had been made to mold to his body. Probably it had been.

"Much better. The cobwebs are clearing." He crossed the room and opened the doors to the balcony.

The sun reflected off the ocean in the distance, silhouetting the muscled planes of his body. His shoulders rose and then released as he breathed in the sea air.

"I should thank you for enticing me to this peaceful slice of heaven."

_Not so peaceful_. But now wasn't the time to tell him that.

"Turtles," she blurted, her voice catching in her throat. " _Sea_ turtles," she added.

He turned.

" _Caretta_ _caretta_."

"I beg your pardon?" With the light behind him, she couldn't see his face.

"That's why you're here. For the turtles. Well, that _and_ for the future of the island and its people. They're an endangered species."

She was babbling. So much for her carefully planned speech. She shut her eyes. If she didn't look at him, it might be easier to concentrate.

"Endangered? The islanders?"

Not any easier with her eyes closed. She opened them.

"Don't tease me." She huffed out a breath. "Please."

"Spit it out, Juliet. I promise I don't bite."

"I need you to help me plan a party."

Silence. Broken only by the sound of waves lapping in the bay.

He lifted his arms, crossed them. She was glad she couldn't see his face.

"You dragged me six thousand miles to plan a _party_?"

"Yes." The idea hadn't seemed ridiculous when she'd sent off the emails.

"Did it occur to you that I was busy? That you pulled me from my work? For a _party_?"

Her anxiety fired. "I'm trying to save a friggin' endangered species here. _And_ an island habitat that is more precious than hardly anybody knows." She stopped pacing and fisted her hands to her hips. " _So_ sorry if I thought you could take a break from selling wine and riding around on million-dollar horses to do something so insignificant as that."

She wasn't proud of her sarcastic tone and immediately regretted laying into him.

"That _wine_ made it possible for me to donate half a million dollars to charity last year." He stepped toward her. " _And_ to provide two hundred thousand dollars to top off the campaign to build your seal rescue center."

He had her there. But his domineering attitude enflamed her, and sarcasm threatened to rise again.

_Be nice_ , the voice in her head called out from the fog of her anger, from the cloying fingers of anxiety gripping her chest. She needed him.

He uncrossed his arms and opened them toward the ceiling. It was the sort of gesture she imagined the pope would make when appealing to God. Though she'd never been much of a religious person, his gesture gave her hope.

He pressed his lips into a thin line and shook his head.

Okay, so much for hope.

All the great arguments she'd prepared dissolved as she watched him sink onto the chair beside the bed.

He squeezed his eyes shut, as if just being in the room was causing him pain. Rolled his head to one side. She heard a distinct cracking when he rolled and stretched his neck in the opposite direction.

Opening his eyes, he locked her in an unwavering gaze.

"I'm sorry, Juliet. Jet lag and lack of sleep is no excuse for losing my temper." He gestured his upturned palm toward her. "But why a party?"

_Facts_. Lay out the facts. Facts were her friends.

She motioned to the sparkling bay. "Zantos is the most important nesting ground for sea turtles in Europe. Eighty percent of the Mediterranean population nests here each summer. Loggerheads—that's another name for the _Caretta caretta_ sea turtles—only return to the beach where they hatched, so the Zantos population is indigenous."

She paced past the bed and to the open door of the bathroom. Bad idea; his scent was heavy in the air there. She paced past him and to the door of the balcony. Then she whirled to face him.

"If this population dies out, the island will _not_ be repopulated by turtles from other areas of the Mediterranean. End of story."

He shifted in the chair. "I'm waiting for the bit about the party."

Right. He was a man who liked to get to the point.

"Half the people here don't even know there's a problem. We need the islanders to join together to back the marine park and protect the sea turtle nesting beaches. The party has to be a huge success to raise the profile of the turtles and make people aware of the need for the marine park. So it has to be perfect. More than perfect. And you're the _only_ person I know who is good at throwing parties."

He smiled. The first smile since they'd entered the room.

"Glad to know I rank highly over nonexistent competition."

"You respect the power of a well-planned party; Zuri said so. And I was at Jackie and Alex's wedding. I saw what you can do."

He nodded. "Their wedding reception was one of my finer moments." His left brow rose. "Zuri knows all about this?"

"Some."

"When is this extremely important, has-to-be-perfect event taking place?

"In ten days."

His smile faded. "Oh yeah, _plenty_ of time to plan a perfect event."

Now he was the one with a sarcastic tone.

"We only got word about the prime minister's plans last Friday. I emailed you the next day."

She didn't mention that threats had made her compress the campaign timeline. Maybe she'd tell him later. Or maybe not. She didn't want anything to put him off working on the event.

"Whoa. The Prime Minister of Greece is coming?"

"No, he's going to be reviewing the proposal for the marine park—soon, maybe in a couple weeks. But we don't know exactly when, and we have to have a _huge_ show of support for the marine park before that."

She put her hands to her forehead and rubbed, but the sneaking band of tension circled tighter around her temples. "I'm not explaining this very well. Oceana, although it's an international nonprofit organization, has no say without the voice of the local people, except in those cases where international law is in force. Every time we set up a new campaign, we have to wing it, find approaches that work with the local people, make new connections, sometimes even help secure funding. I head up a regional office and have a small but growing team of volunteers. And we're having some success at getting local signatures on petitions that we'll send to Athens, but we have to ramp up the pace. The party and the events we have planned to follow it will lock in the support we need. If the prime minister sees strong support, he can draft a legislative declaration and make the park a reality. If he doesn't sign, there's no protection from developers or poachers or uneducated tourists."

Parker held up a hand. "I need coffee." He picked up the phone. "Would you like one?"

She shook her head. Coffee would jangle her already frayed nerves.

He ordered a coffee in perfectly accented Greek.

"I didn't know you spoke Greek," she said as he hung up.

"Not very well. The benefits of an old-school, private education. Greek seemed the more practical choice over Latin."

He pinched his fingers to the bridge of his nose and squeezed his brows together. Watching him, she began to feel bad about dragging him halfway across the world. But she trusted her intuition. If Parker worked his famous magic, the campaign had a great chance for success.

He lowered his hands and pressed them to the arms of the chair. "Of course I'll help you with whatever you need. I told you I would. I keep my word."

_He'll help_.

The flame of hope she'd kept glimmering leaped high, taking her emotions with it.

"Juliet, I'm sure this party is important to you, or you wouldn't have asked for my help. But I need you to start at the beginning."

At his gentler tone, her mind settled and her thoughts started to string together in understandable sentences.

"First off, I owe you an apology. I was afraid that if you knew what I wanted your help with, that you wouldn't come. I didn't want to fib, but—"

"No faith."

Oh, she had faith all right. She could only hope it hadn't been misplaced.

She ran through the basic facts. How the beach chairs of tourists could disrupt the nests of the incubating eggs. How boaters needed to be kept away from the adult females before and after they came in to the beaches to lay their eggs.

"And there would have to be lighting regulations for all buildings close to the beaches."

"And why is that?"

"When the tiny turtles hatch, they go toward light. Any light. They think it's the moon reflecting on the sea. If a building has bright lights, the hatchlings head up the dunes, away from the ocean and toward certain death."

"Lighting design takes on a whole new significance."

"We've tried to get a meeting with Prime Minister Kantakos to present him with the data and the signatures we have so far. But his office wants to see full-on local support before they'll even talk to us about an appointment. The marine park and the regulations that would come with it would clinch the safety of the turtle habitat, protect its integrity. And it's so _doable_ if we get the park declared."

" _When_ you get it declared," he said. "Best to think positive."

Her mind screeched to a halt. She was so grateful for his supporting words, she could've kissed him. He sipped the coffee room service had delivered and gazed at her from over the rim of the cup.

Thinking about kissing him wasn't going to keep her thoughts on track. She'd told herself that she could keep her attraction under control, and she intended to do just that.

She pivoted away from his gaze and paced to the balcony.

Stick with the facts.

She leaned her back against the railing and squinted into the room. The afternoon light cast a soft glow along the planes of Parker's face. He set his coffee cup down on the table and joined her on the balcony.

Energy arced from him to her. Or was it a delusion born in her late-night fantasies? She really needed to shut those down. And had no idea how to do it. They sneaked into her mind each night as she struggled to fall asleep.

"An olive farm and a small taverna abut the most important nesting grounds," she said, steadying her voice. Filling the space between them with words was far safer and less nerve-racking than dwelling on the energy she felt when he was so close to her. "It's a pristine stretch of beach that just happens to be where half of all the turtles lay their eggs. And the great thing is, Mrs. Vardakastani, the elderly woman who owns the olive farm, is on our side."

He laid his hand on her forearm.

"So there _are_ sides. Tell me about the opposition."

She wriggled her arm free from the heat of his fingers.

Well, _hell_. Certainly there was opposition. And if the rumor she'd heard about a big hotel chain wanting to buy up properties abutting the nesting beaches was true, they had to act fast. If any land sales went through before the park regulations were in place, the developments might be grandfathered in and not have to abide by the regulations. But she didn't want Parker thinking about all that. She needed him to focus on the party.

She fingered the hem of her T-shirt. "We'll know more about who is with us and who's against us after the party."

"Juliet, if this plan of yours is to succeed, I'll need the facts." He put his fingertips to her jaw and tipped her face up. "All of them."

She stepped away from his touch and hit her ribs against the cool metal of the balcony railing. "Of course. I have notes that lay everything out. The legislation, the elements of the campaign, everything."

Everything but the information about the threats. And the fact that the original binder had been stolen.

"And I need to meet the key players," he added. "Immediately, thanks to this insane timeline you've set up."

"I arranged for you to meet Mrs. Vardakastani. Tonight. She's making dinner for us. She has ideas, she's offered to help, and she knows more about this island and its ways than anybody."

His eyes crinkled as a smile curved into his lips. "Now you're talking."

His smile and supportive words shouldn't have shot a buzz of flustering energy through her veins. She fled from the balcony and into the dimness of the room. Had she really thought that being in close quarters with him wouldn't affect her? Her hands trembled as she fished her keys from the pocket of her shorts.

"I'll pick you up at seven." Turning on her heel, she pivoted and walked out the door.

Halfway down the hallway, she stopped and leaned back against the cool stucco wall.

She hadn't thanked him. Not properly. But she would.

But right then she needed to get her head on straight. And that wasn't going to happen in the close confines of his hotel room.

# Chapter Eight

Hot water drumming on Parker's shoulders helped to melt away the thick fog of jet lag, but the pelting shower didn't dissolve the truth that needled at him.

_Two_ truths, if he was going to be honest with himself, which he always tried to be.

The first was that Juliet was definitely hiding something from him. He'd discerned that fact from her body language and the skittishness that laced through her words. Her campaign—and the party she'd dragged him here to orchestrate—had an underbelly. One that she wasn't owning up to.

But the second truth was harder to admit.

Somehow, sometime since he'd last seen Juliet, the attraction he'd felt for her during the _Sommelier_ shoot had morphed into something more, something unfamiliar. A more powerful fascination. He'd be a fool to ignore the warning signs.

He was no stranger to love, knew the power of attraction. But when Rachael had walked out of his life, he'd sworn he'd never again fall prey to delusions—his or anyone else's. If he hadn't been so smitten, he might've detected earlier that she didn't truly love him. Out-of-control attraction could blind a man. Skew the truth and blur reality. It could lead to mistakes and pain. And he'd be damned if he was going to be duped by its power ever again.

He'd help Juliet with her party. Not only did he owe her, but he had a hell of a soft spot for ocean animals. He'd work with Juliet's team and put together the best possible event. And the day after the party, he'd head back to California. End of story.

He shook the water from his hair and stepped out of the shower. A breeze blew in through the open doors of the balcony; he wrapped the towel around his waist and stood at the doorway. _Blue_. So much blue with sky and sea stretching to the curving horizon. He stared at the crescent of white beach, a ribbon of sand that was about to be the focus of a heated battle if the talk he'd heard on the ferry was true.

Juliet called up from the lobby. He dressed and met her at the front entrance. She didn't protest when he insisted on driving the rental car he'd had brought over to the hotel, which was a plus. The last thing he needed if he was going to keep a cool head and careful guard was to wrap his arms around her and ride off into a balmy, sultry evening.

Following Juliet's directions, Parker turned off onto the narrow road lined with olive trees. The rental car bottomed out on a rut, and his head banged against the roof.

"Careful. We need the full power of that brain," Juliet said.

He downshifted. He wanted to grin, but thought better of it. He didn't want to send the wrong message. If he was right about her hiding something from him, she had some explaining to do. Grinning like a charmed idiot was no way to set the stage properly for a showdown.

"Glad you have a reason to watch my back," he said in a cool tone.

"Your _head_ , Parker. I didn't say anything about your back."

And damned if his grin didn't beam out all on its own in response to her playful tone.

He let out a low whistle as they passed a stand of trees with three-foot-wide trunks and gnarled branches. "My cousin Alana would drool over these olive trees."

"Some of the trees on Mrs. Vardakastani's property are over eight hundred years old. Since her husband died four years ago, she's kept the place going with the help of some local boys and a couple of men from the village."

He parked in front of a little stone farmhouse set back about a quarter of a mile from the beach. Situated on a rising knoll, the property had sweeping views from east to west of both coast and ocean. The last rays of sunlight played along the water in the distance and cast a soft reddish glow on the stone walls of the house.

"What a view. So this is turtle central?"

"Her place and her neighbor's, as well as a couple of smaller properties abutting beaches to the north. You can see why this area would be appealing to developers."

A woman wearing a black dress waved from the arched doorway at the front of the house. Her white hair was pulled back tightly into a severe bun.

"She looks formidable."

Juliet returned the woman's wave. "We may need formidable before this campaign is over," she said in a low voice as they headed up to the house.

Mrs. Vardakastani hugged Juliet. And though Parker's Greek was less than perfect, the elderly lady was delighted that he spoke any at all.

"But we can speak English," she said in the clipped accent of someone who had learned a second language late in life. "I lived with my son in Australia for a few years after his wife died." She peered up at him. "Have you been to Australia?"

"Only to Sydney, ma'am."

"No ma'am around here. You can call me Yiayia Doria. Everybody does, even though I don't have a single grandchild. But there's always hope."

She ushered them into a room with a long wooden table. To his eye, the polished wood looked hand-hewn. Lace curtains hung at the windows and added a soft contrast to the stark stucco walls and heavy wood beams along the ceiling. The table was set for four.

"My son may join us later or perhaps not. He had a meeting in town tonight," she said, seeing him eye the table. "You haven't met Pavlos yet, have you, Juliet?"

"I didn't know he was on the island."

"He arrived two weeks ago. A pleasant surprise. He hasn't been keeping in very good touch these last few years." Doria pointed Parker to a seat at the head of the table. "Mothers always worry about their sons, no matter how old they are." She patted Parker on the shoulder as he took his seat. "I imagine yours must be quite worried, knowing the dustup you've stepped into over here."

He raised a brow at Juliet. "I hadn't been made aware it was a dustup."

Juliet busied herself settling into her chair and scooting it up to the table.

Doria squinted at him. "Maybe that's not the right word. Well, whatever a person calls trying to get stuck-in-their-ways islanders to consider something new." She arrowed a look to Juliet. "You have told him about the threats, haven't you?"

Juliet pursed her lips.

"Sounds like dustup might be precisely the right word," Parker said. "Juliet hasn't yet had a chance to fill me in."

"I thought I could trust Andreas," Juliet said.

"Oh, he's trustworthy. But I've known that boy since he came into this world. He can't keep secrets from me. He told me about the theft as well."

Doria looked from Parker and back to Juliet. Even his spymaster uncle's gaze didn't bore into him like the old lady's keen stare did. "You two have some catching up to do while I put the finishing touches on our dinner."

Juliet jumped up. "I'll help you."

"No need."

Juliet didn't look him in the eye when she sat back in her seat.

Parker reached for the glass of water next to his plate and took a long sip. He tapped his finger to the edge of his glass. And waited.

Juliet crossed her arms. "I had planned to tell you."

"Now would be a good time."

As she described the threats she'd received, he did his best to keep his alarm from showing. Her voice was steady, smooth, with little affect. That alone told him she was far more concerned about the threatening letters than she was owning up to.

"We really don't know what happened to the binder that held our strategic plans and the list of those islanders who support the park," she added in the same emotionless tone. "It's possible it was simply misplaced."

"You don't believe that."

"No, you're right. I don't."

"Like most other members of the human race, I have an aversion to deception, Juliet."

She lowered her eyes and fiddled with her napkin. He was about to press her for further details when Doria marched into the room with a tray nearly as wide as she was tall. Parker leaped up and took the heavy tray from her.

"You'll spoil me," she fussed at him. "I'm getting used to fending for myself."

But she let him transfer the warm dishes from the tray to the table without further protest.

Parker didn't miss the hitch in Doria's breath as she sat. She had to be at least seventy-five. And though the years of hard work might have kept her fit and strong, the toil showed in her face.

Over dinner he listened as Juliet laid out plans for the party and rattled off key facts about the turtles that she thought the presenters should cover during the evening. But the news about the threatening letters looped through his thoughts, and he had to keep dragging his attention back to the conversation.

Doria held up a finger and shook it at Juliet. "Your approach is wrong, wrong for this place and for the people here. Strings of facts will only get you so far. You need to ignite a sense of wonder about the turtles and the ocean. People will remember the feeling of love, and they will fall in love again with being here, with their lives. If you can do this, the rest will fall into place."

Juliet shook her head. "Not me, Doria, _you_. They'll listen to you. You can show them that what's at stake is everything that makes this island the wondrous place it is."

"I'm an old lady. I'm no good at giving speeches."

As he listened, Parker knew how he wanted the party to play out. "I insist that you speak, Yiayia Doria. From what Juliet tells me, you're a respected elder of the community."

Doria squinted at him. "Insist is a very strong word, young man."

"He doesn't mean to sound so autocratic," Juliet said from her place across the table.

"Oh, but I do." Parker crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. "Yet I assure you that any hint of high-handedness is merely to convince you that you're the perfect spokeswoman to champion the turtles, the park and the future well-being of every resident of Zantos."

With a deep sigh, Doria pushed up from the table. "If I tell you I'll think about this, this _proposal_ of yours, will you cease from badgering me while we enjoy our dessert?"

"It depends on what's for dessert," he said. "And if you'll let me help you serve it."

"I don't need help. And even if I told you what I'm serving, you wouldn't know what it is. The recipe is a family secret. We'd have to bury you in the back garden if I revealed the ingredients to you."

Juliet chuckled. "After eating far too much of your delicious dinner, I'm not sure I could hoist a shovel. And I think we need Parker. At least until the end of next week."

Doria walked to the oak credenza that ran along one wall of her dining room. Parker heard the clank of utensils against china and watched her shake something from a canister onto the plates.

She placed a plate holding a pastry that looked like spiderwebs laced with spices and honey in front of him. He recognized the aroma of cardamom, but another scent wafted underneath it—a scent that teased at a buried memory but wasn't distinct enough to call the image to the front of his mind.

"No questions, Parker," Juliet said, her eyes twinkling.

He let the confection melt against his tongue.

The clinks of their forks and his and Juliet's murmurs of delight were interrupted by Doria clearing her throat.

"We have a new problem, Juliet. Your ex-boyfriend Nikos was here twice this past week trying to soften me up and convince me to sell my place to his mystery buyers. They'll have to carry me out cold and ready to meet my maker before that would happen."

"He was never my boyfriend."

"Not to hear Nikos tell it. He still speaks of you as if you were second only to Aphrodite." Doria shrugged and winked at Parker. "I can't fault his taste. Only his manners."

Doria poured coffee into cups and handed them each one. "Nikos can be very persuasive. He won't say who he's representing, but it's rumored they have very deep pockets. I'm sure he'll be speaking with my neighbor next, if he hasn't already."

Island gossip. Parker was filing away every detail and logging a mental note of questions he wanted to follow up on. He'd already added suspects to the list of people who might have sent the threats to Juliet. The ex-boyfriend. The neighbor. The developers interested in acquiring prime land. And who knew how many locals were rankled by an intruding American trying to change the status quo? Rankled enough to take steps to frighten her off the island. Without her experience and leadership, the marine park campaign could dissolve into a spitting match.

"Can you get Markos to come to the party?" Juliet asked.

"I can't guarantee he'll listen—to me or to you—but I can make sure he's there. I know where his fish bones are buried."

Juliet's brows drew together. "Fish bones?"

"His secrets. On this island, everybody has secrets, although some are better kept than others. But you don't live next door to a family for generations without knowing most of theirs."

Juliet stared at her plate and frowned. "We'll need more than long-held secrets to get enough key players to the party."

The frustration under her words needled into Parker. He hated to see her discouraged. She'd taken on the leadership of the campaign willingly, but information on paper often didn't reveal the forces at work behind the scenes.

He downed the last of his thick, sweet coffee. "I spoke with my cousin Sabrina's friend Cameron Kelley earlier today. She's willing to put in an appearance, draw some attention to the cause."

Juliet's head snapped up. "As in the _actress_ Cameron Kelley?"

"She's wrapping up a film shoot in Paris. And promised to sneak down here for the event."

"See? This is _exactly_ why I needed you, Parker."

Juliet's happy smile lit her face. He squelched the surge of joy that wanted to run away with him. They had a long road ahead if they were going to pull off an effective event.

Doria lifted her cup in the air. "Movie stars trump old ladies any day."

"You'll not get off that easily, Doria," he said. "You'll still be giving your speech. Cameron is just the star-power-laced honey to draw in the outliers. _You_ are the one needed to reach in and get a hand around their hearts."

Doria lowered her cup. "Hearts have territories and rules all their own, young man. And no one can predict the outcome of waking them up."

He hadn't needed to fly six thousand miles to discover that. But what he did need to do was keep his own damn heart focused on the business at hand. And not on Juliet Cabot.

# Chapter Nine

Parker was late getting out of his hotel room the next morning. Phone calls and emails to line up the services he needed to pull off the party had kept him tethered to the small desk in his room. Zantos might be stunningly beautiful, but it lacked much in the way of technology, at least tech of the sort that he needed to pull off the perfect event. He found an AV company in Athens that would deliver a rented sound system, a huge screen for the community hall and wireless clip-on microphones.

He breathed a sigh of relief when a friend who lived near Paris agreed to ship twelve cases of his best champagne in time for the party. The hotel clerk had assured Parker that he could cool the bubbly in long tubs before transporting it to the community hall Juliet had booked for the event.

Decor and catering would have to wait until he toured the hall and had a better sense of what was available locally. Sourcing anything he could from the islanders would put money in their pockets. If campaign events lined pockets, that couldn't hurt.

He fired off an email to his estate manager, answering his list of questions about the solar panels for the winery and the new drainage system for the stables. Impatient to get on with his day, he archived the nonurgent messages from the marketing team and headed out the door.

The late-morning sun heated the ocean breezes as he drove along the lip of the bay. By the time he reached the Oceana Alliance office, it was nearly half past eleven.

The concrete block building wasn't much bigger than his hotel room. He knocked at the flimsy screen door. When no one answered, he stepped inside.

Four desks crammed side by side lined one wall. Light flooded in from a large window on the opposite wall, facing the bay. The view out to the sparkling blue ocean was the single appealing feature of the cobbled-together office.

He noted that the screens on the computers were locked and required passcodes, but that was the only sign of security precautions. A door at the back of the office stood ajar. He pushed it open.

A man about Parker's height shouted as he jumped back from a wide tank filled with water. "You could give a guy a heart attack."

"The door was open," Parker said in Greek, gesturing.

The man scanned Parker's face and then smiled. "Greek hospitality," he said in barely accented English. "You must be Parker." He held out a hand and then withdrew it, wiped it on a towel that hung from a belt at his waist and then thrust it out again. "Andreas Makis. I'm Juliet's assistant."

His grip was strong, confident. And he had the body of an athlete, muscled yet lean. Parker tucked the observations away.

"Is Juliet around?"

"She went over to the other side of the island to pick up our volunteer vet; his car broke down yesterday. She probably won't be back before late afternoon." He nodded to the tank. "This one will be ready for release in a week or so. But we want her checked out."

A turtle surfaced and peered up at them.

Andreas chuckled. " _She_ thinks she's ready, that's for sure."

"I've seen green sea turtles when diving in Hawaii," Parker said, "but I've never seen a loggerhead. She looks like she's smiling."

"Maybe. Even though the flipper repair might've saved her life, Persa here has just about had it with this facility. They all get cranky when they start to feel better."

"I had no idea there was a hospital here."

"If you can call two tanks and a volunteer vet a hospital. But they've been doing rescue and rehab work on a shoestring for nearly fifteen years. I'll show you the turtle egg incubation tanks inside if you're interested. No eggs right now, but there will be when the nesting season starts. Nests are always being disrupted. With only about one in a thousand hatchlings making it to adulthood, they need every chance they can get."

A splash sent water over the side of the tank as the turtle dove below the surface.

"Just finished feeding her." He gestured toward the office. "Want a coffee?"

"I've had three," Parker said. "But the fourth just might do the trick." Catching Andreas alone was a bonus. With Juliet away, perhaps he'd get straight answers to his questions.

Andreas laughed. "It took me three weeks to get over my jet lag when I flew in from Honolulu. Next time, I'm breaking up the trip. But Juliet wanted me to get started while she finished up in Kona. Paperwork"—he gestured to a desk piled high—"the bane of all scientists."

He led Parker to a one-burner stove at the back of the office. Charts and maps lined the wall above it.

"Have a seat. I'm pretty quick at this now that I'm back in the swing, but you can't hurry good coffee."

"I'd rather have a look at these charts. Is this the proposed area of the marine park?"

"The most recent proposal." Andreas traced a circle encompassing a larger area of ocean and beach with his finger. "Originally we wanted to include more of the marine area adjacent to the bay. But that didn't fly with the bigheads in Athens."

Parker pointed to a crosshatched portion of the bay marked in a different shade of blue. "A no-boating zone?"

"Flipper injuries aren't the worst of what the boats can do. I'll spare you the gore."

Andreas poured coffee into two small white ceramic cups. Parker felt like he could use a gallon of the stuff, but he took the offered cup.

"Does Juliet have enemies?"

Andreas paused his cup in midair. "She told you about the threats?"

"Yiayia Doria did."

"Better Doria than me. Or haven't you seen Juliet when she's fired-up angry?"

"Not sure that I have. Irritated, yes. Fired up..." He thought back. "No. But if I'm to be of help, I need to know more than she's been willing to tell me."

"This whole project has enemies. You've seen the beaches, the bay. Without the marine park and the regulations it would put into place, there's nothing to stop anyone from buying up property and putting in an eighty-story hotel or golf courses and dredging the bay for a more conveniently situated cruise ship dock."

Andreas gestured to an area on the map. "Don't get me wrong—I know hotels and golf courses are part of life these days, especially if tourism is a main source of income, which it is for Zantos. And there's plenty of space mid-island for such things. But developers have their eyes on the beaches along Daphne Bay. It's a slice of heaven. But it won't be for long. Not if we fail."

"Never been a fan of failure," Parker said, draining his cup. "Do you have any idea who might have sent the threatening letters?"

"Did she show them to you?"

"Not yet."

"I only saw them because she needed me to translate. At first glance, they appear childish. But it took a very clever, almost artistic, individual to cut and paste them together. Almost as if they wanted that extra tension, that odd angle to the threats. I'm sure both letters came from the same source—the messages were identical except for the images in the cutout letters forming the words. The basic message was for Juliet to butt out of business that wasn't hers and to leave the island or there would be consequences. They didn't specify the consequences."

"If I were a clever villain wanting to conceal my identity, making the letters look rough and unprofessional, even childish, would be a good smokescreen."

Andreas stroked his chin. "Hadn't considered that. Haven't had much time to think at all, we've been so busy. Glad she brought you here. We need a few more brain cells on the project."

"If mine ever wake up."

"Juliet's the best colleague I could imagine having. She landed me the campaign job in Hawaii, took a chance on a guy fresh out of grad school. Few people would do that." Andreas shifted in his chair. "You probably can tell that I love her."

Parker raised a brow at his surprising confession.

Red crept into Andreas's face. "It's not what you're thinking. I love her like a sister." He shook his head. "You know, one thing about English—the language doesn't have enough words for different kinds of love. You'd think Shakespeare or _someone_ would've addressed that lack. We Greeks, we have words for loving a friend, a colleague, a lover, a child, parents. And they all have nuances that we understand."

"English may be a robust language, but it does have its weaknesses." Parker didn't feel like discussing his feelings about love—the word _or_ the emotion.

"But I worry about Juliet," Andreas added in a somber tone. "Especially in a hotbed like this one. When she gets an idea in her head..." He looked out the window toward the bay. "I don't know, it's like something snaps and she shoves into gear, and all the reasoning in the world doesn't stop her."

"I'll keep that in mind."

Andreas was devoted, a definite ally. Parker crossed him off the list of suspects. He'd considered professional jealousy as a motive for trying to scare Juliet off the island, but clearly that wasn't the case with Andreas.

At his request, Andreas walked him through the names and backgrounds of the volunteers working for the Oceana Alliance. All but one had been with the organization for more than a decade.

"What can you tell me about this newcomer—Tulos?"

"Grew up on Corfu. Total animal lover. And a wizard with the computer. But not very good with people. Speaks his mind with no consideration of the outcome and a bit of a radical."

"Pissed off the locals?"

"And some of the volunteers," Andreas added. "Juliet has managed to temper him, but on this island, grudges can last for centuries."

"And what about those grudges? I'd like to have a sense of who's in what camp, the sort of opposition you're facing from the locals."

"Not my specialty," Andreas said. "I work the policy and legal angles. Juliet's been the one out in front with the locals. They like her."

"Someone doesn't."

"When there's money involved, big money at stake like there is here, tempers shift into high heat. We had a similar reaction initially in Hawaii with the monk seal project, but there we had federal regulations on our side. It's the dark ages here."

As Andreas showed him the turtle egg incubation tanks, the tension bunched in Parker's shoulders didn't ease. A small group of dedicated turtle lovers was one thing, but a campaign to change the laws and regulations of the island, to set a precedent? The campaign Juliet was leading shot the project into a whole new realm. A realm he doubted any of Oceana's volunteers had ever done battle in.

And whoever had targeted Juliet knew what they were doing. Without her leadership and experience running international campaigns, the group was little threat to anyone.

"What are your plans for tonight?" Andreas asked as he walked Parker to his car.

"Nothing specific."

"Some of the old-timers are playing _bouzouki_ at a local taverna." He pulled a crumpled flyer from his pocket. "It used to be that most nights in the villages, people young and old gathered and played music. Now those occasions are becoming rare. Zantos has some of the most famous folk musicians in Greece—a bit of island pride. If you can get Juliet to knock off work, come on by. It'll help you get a sense of this place."

After Parker left the Oceana office, he decided to drive into town and do a bit of anonymous snooping. Until the party, he was an unknown entity, just another tourist enjoying the culture and beauty of the island.

He ordered lunch at a crowded outdoor café in the main square. Though his Greek was coming back to him, his limited grasp of the language made it hard to eavesdrop. But he got the drift of several conversations. And discovered there weren't just two camps—those for the marine park, citizens who wanted the island to keep its sleepy beauty, integrity, traditional life and charm, and those against it, hungry for bigger developments and more commerce.

The third camp consisted of residents who didn't want the government interfering in their lives. The bureaucrats and politicians in Athens were no friends of this group of islanders. The third group could prove to be the toughest opposition of all.

Parker navigated the rented SUV along the rutted road leading to Juliet's place. The evening light pouring gold over the hills convinced him to call the rental agency in the morning and see if he could swap for a Jeep convertible.

Juliet was waiting on the front steps as he pulled up. The casual cotton dress she wore was simply styled, but the way it clung to her curves left nothing to the imagination. At least not to his. He'd touched those curves, knew them like a mapmaker would know and remember captivating terrain.

"You don't have to chauffeur me," she said as he exited the SUV. "I rather like riding my scooter."

"You're hard enough to track down; at least this way I know where you are."

"I didn't bring you here to keep track of me, Parker."

"I have an ulterior motive. I'd like to have a look at those letters."

"Later. We'll miss the music."

"I'd like to see them now. Andreas said that they're oddly crafted. I'd like to see for myself."

"They're nothing special, just some letters cut out of a magazine or something."

"Threatening letters are always something special." He stepped up onto her porch, but she didn't move to invite him inside. "Is there some reason you don't want me to see them?"

"I'd like to forget about them."

"Then why not just give them to me?"

"I— Jeez, Parker, you make this seem like some sort of espionage scenario. This is exactly why I didn't tell you about them in the first place." She opened her door and motioned him inside. "I'll be just a minute."

He scanned the sparsely furnished room. A couch and an overstuffed chair were arranged in front of a low table at one end of the space. At the other end, a couple of chairs, a wooden table near the counter and a sink served as a kitchen and dining area. A quick once-over of the doors and windows showed him there were no locks. Maybe he was being paranoid, but his inner voice, the voice he trusted, told him he wasn't.

"Checking out my high-end security?" She held out a manila envelope. "No one locks their doors around here."

He took the envelope and withdrew the letters. "Greek," he said.

"You were expecting Chinese?"

"These aren't cut from a magazine; look at the edges. These are cut from photographs." He spread the letters open on her table. "Landscapes, buildings, and look." He pointed to the last line of each letter. "Skin here and here." If they hadn't been threatening, he would've considered them art. But whoever had sent them had a nasty sort of misplaced creativity.

"I hadn't noticed that, but it hardly matters. It's not like we can snoop out who sent them." Her eyes darkened. "And I'm not going to the police. I told Andreas that as well. I don't want any more tension with the locals than there already is."

"But you won't mind if I hold on to these for a couple of days?"

She pushed the letters across the table toward him. "I'm glad to be rid of them. Can we go now? I'm feeling a deep need for a glass of retsina and some music. It's been a long day."

Twilight eased into the night sky over the bay as they headed toward town. Parker told Juliet about the AV system and the champagne and his plans to have locals do the flowers and food.

"I'll oversee them, of course," he added.

She laughed, and he heard some of the tension drain from her. "I expected nothing less."

"I'll have to hire security for Cameron. Nothing obvious, but I owe her the protection."

"It must be awful to need guards everywhere you go."

"She has her safe places, spots where she can let her hair down. But until I know this island better, I'm taking precautions."

"Do you just Google _bodyguards for movie stars_?"

He laughed. "I have my resources. It's why you asked me here, isn't it? My vast array of resources and experience?"

"Don't let it go to your head, Parker."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

He didn't add that his head wasn't the only part of him that Juliet got to. He was still wrapping his mind around that uncomfortable fact.

# Chapter Ten

Parker followed Juliet's directions and parked in the gravel lot next to the taverna. The lights from the outdoor patio sparkled out over the calm water in the harbor.

Music met them as they approached the door. Parker held it for her.

"You're in for a treat, California Boy. In my opinion these guys are the best in the world. And they're playing antique bouzoukis."

Her delight laced into him, curling like a wisp of smoke around glowing embers. He loved music. Had studied it and played a bit of piano. But the joy in her face told him that music was a deep love. She'd wanted to be a classical violinist, she'd said in answer to Zuri's list of questions. He wondered how marine biology had won out.

"I'll find us seats," she said. "If you'll order me a very large carafe of retsina."

He hadn't had much experience with the spicy, tannin-laced wine, but he ordered a liter carafe at the bar.

As he waited, he watched a tall man with a shock of dark hair approach Juliet. Parker tensed, ready to launch. But she laughed and patted the man on the arm. The man leaned close, saying something that had her laughing again and pointing to the wall where the musicians played. She shook her head.

When Juliet laughed she was stunning, as if some wild creature that she kept leashed escaped her control. Even in the dim light, her skin, tanned by the spring sun, seemed to glow with the energy of that untamed inner creature.

Parker turned to the musicians. They had stopped playing to sip their wine and jest among themselves and with those in the row of tables closest to them. His attention was caught by an impeccably dressed woman sporting diamonds at her throat and ears. He recognized her suit—Chanel—from the fall fashion show in Paris that Coco had dragged him to the previous autumn.

But what held him riveted was the way the woman was focused on Juliet. Any woman would be a fool not to notice Juliet's allure. And from the way the woman was hawk-eyeing her, she certainly was no fool. He watched as she made her way across the room. He grabbed the two glasses and carafe of wine and arrived by Juliet's side just as the woman did.

The man talking with Juliet looked up, first to Parker and then to the woman. His lips curved with a smile, but one that didn't reach his eyes.

"Parker, this is Nikos," Juliet said.

Parker didn't miss the surveying glance in Nikos's eye when the man held out his hand. He scrutinized the ex-boyfriend, who supposedly wasn't a boyfriend, right back.

"And this is Fabia Nevrakou," Nikos said, nodding toward the well-dressed woman.

Fabia shook Parker's hand and then Juliet's.

"I've been hoping to meet you," Fabia said to Juliet in the crisp British accent of classically educated upper-class Greeks. "I've heard so much about you. You do _such_ important work."

A mottled trail of red crept into Juliet's cheeks. "I've been lucky to have had good teams to work with."

Fabia reached into the pocket of her suit jacket. "I have something for you, a small gift." She opened her palm and held out a string of blue beads with dotted centers in yellow and blue. "These beads ward off _to mati_ , the evil eye."

Nikos frowned as Juliet took the string of beads.

"Thank you." She held them up to the light. "They're lovely."

Fabia pointed to her wrist. "I am _never_ without my beads." She looked to Parker. "We Greeks believe in the power of thoughts. They can harm, or they can help." She smiled at Juliet. "This will keep harm away from you and give you strength. Maybe even good luck."

Fabia's smile, though wide, was clearly only for show. Perhaps she was nervous about meeting a former flame of Nikos's. Juliet had the sort of beauty that could make any woman jealous. But why would Fabia give Juliet a gift? Parker didn't know the woman, but all he could hear in his mind was the advice to be wary of Greeks bearing gifts. He shook off the advice; surely he was making too much of a simple gesture.

Nikos cleared his throat. "I hate to break up the party, but we were just leaving."

Fabia looked up at him from under long dark lashes. "Must we?"

Nikos looped his arm through hers. "We'll be late for dinner."

As Nikos and Fabia left, Parker steered Juliet to two chairs at a small table one row back from the musicians.

"So that's your ex, huh?"

"He was never my boyfriend."

"So you said." Parker swatted at the wisp of jealousy that wanted to rise. He drew his thoughts away from that useless emotion and sipped the room-temperature wine. Though the bouquet wasn't complex, the spicy retsina had an enticing bite. "Fabia looks like she likes to have a good time."

Juliet bunched her brows together. "Meaning what exactly?"

What had he meant? Something about Fabia held his attention, so he'd spoken before he'd thought. "She seemed reluctant to leave."

Juliet raised her glass toward the musicians. "Perhaps she knows what she'll be missing." She held out the necklace. "Would you fasten this for me? I'm clumsy with tiny clasps."

She gathered her hair in her hands and held it up, baring the creamy skin of her neck. Over the scents of the taverna, of wine and roasting lamb, he caught the scent that was distinctly hers. Grassy and light, like ginger flowers in an open field, her scent whispered to him and brought memories whipping into his mind and a lurching sensation to his chest. He had to concentrate to open the clasp and secure the tiny silver ring in its jaws. And concentrate even more to quench the desire to run his finger along the curve of her shoulder.

"There," he said, his voice unsteady as the clasp clicked shut.

She released her hair, and auburn curls laced with gold spilled down over the backs of his hands. He resisted the urge to touch, to hold, to play.

She turned around, fingering the beads. "My first gift. I'm not superstitious, but I can't help thinking it's a good sign."

Juliet's sweet smile was like a punch to his gut. If he was going to be of help to her, he needed to shut down his libido and pay attention to his mission. He hadn't come to complicate her life. Never before had desire tempted him to violate his principles. People who offered help but were driven by ulterior motives were the scum of the earth.

"It's a thoughtful gift." He should focus on his own motives and stop worrying over everybody else's. He sipped his wine, glad that she'd moved her focus to the musicians tuning their instruments.

He was surprised to see Andreas slip into a seat among the musicians, settling next to an elderly man tuning a bouzouki. Andreas balanced a violin case on his knees and drew out a violin. He looked up and with his bow saluted their table. Juliet gave him a broad smile and a thumbs-up.

"Andreas didn't mention that he was going to perform," Parker said.

"There's much about his life that Andreas doesn't mention."

A young man with a notepad approached them. He ran down the dinner specials in rapid-fire Greek.

"Will moussaka do?" Juliet asked. "They also have _paidakia_."

She must've read the question in his eyes, because she added, "Small lamb chops. Grilled and very delicious."

"All of the above." He hadn't had much for lunch, and his stomach was rumbling.

The lively chattering in the taverna quieted as the musicians began to play. Traditional Greek music was so different from American folk songs. A lamenting quality amplified by the simple harmonies of the musicians' voices wound through the songs. But joy resonated even through the melancholy. Juliet tapped her fingers against her glass in time with the complex rhythms, her face glowing.

And Parker found himself wanting to know the woman beneath the carefully maintained surface that she showed to the world.

The third song ended to applause and the thumping of feet on the wood-planked floor. Andreas stood and waved to Juliet, holding out his violin and beckoning her to join them.

Juliet shook her head. Andreas nodded, shaking off her refusal as he walked to their table. He handed her his violin.

"I told them about your talent. They'd be honored if you'd play. They've requested Vivaldi." He grinned at Parker. "And you're in for a treat."

"And _you're_ in for double duty tomorrow," she said to Andreas.

"I'm off tomorrow."

"Not anymore." She narrowed her eyes. "I'm going to think up all sorts of unpleasant tasks for you."

Still shaking her head, she took the violin and bow from his hands and made her way to the row of musicians amid applause and shouts of approval.

"Her bark is stronger than her kiss," Andreas said as he dropped into the chair that Juliet had vacated.

"Than her bite," Parker corrected.

Andreas laughed. "That too, I suppose."

Juliet tuned the violin. She drew the bow over the strings, as if testing them. At the sound of the pure, clear notes, a hush fell over the crowded taverna.

Parker had heard "Spring" from Vivaldi's _Four Seasons_ played before—maybe a dozen times and by world-famous violinists. But as Juliet closed her eyes and the sweet, pure sound of the classic serenade to spring permeated the room, he knew he'd never before felt the full power of the composition. Like sap rising and spreading its magic powers of renewal, the music and the joy radiating from Juliet's face sneaked into places inside him that he'd kept shut away for a very long time.

She cut the allegro movement short and segued into the plaintive, more somber beginning of the second movement. The opening notes had always reminded him of a brief lament for what had been lost in the cold darkness of winter.

"She is clever," Andreas whispered to him. "It is a cry, this passage. A voice for the voiceless. A voice that calls us to remember."

Halfway through the largo, she stopped playing.

Wild applause and calls for more had her blushing. A musician with bushy white brows whispered in her ear and pointed to his mandolin. She shook her head. He whispered again. She smiled and whispered back. With a shrug, she lifted her bow and nodded to him.

They began to play, and then the other musicians lifted their instruments and joined them. The guitar and mandolin players sang out the haunting words, with many in the audience singing along.

Even if Parker hadn't had a grasp of the language, there was no mistaking that they played a love song. Each stroke of the violin, each smile Juliet sent out, ramped up his heartbeat until it beat faster than the rhythm of the folk tune.

Andreas poured himself a glass of retsina from the carafe on the table. He sipped and then leaned over to Parker. "Our _Kandathes_. These love songs are many centuries old." He drew his brows together. "Perhaps now you love her too?"

Parker schooled his features. "Like many here, I'm captivated by the music."

"Only the music?" Andreas grinned.

"I'll admit she has a way of surprising me."

"Surprise is a gateway to the heart. But I'm sure you know that."

He didn't. Or at least hadn't thought about gateways to his heart. In fact, he'd been making an effort to ignore the pounding pulse reminding him of her effect. But he couldn't deny that since he'd set foot on Zantos, he'd had more surprises in a couple of days than he'd had in the last two months. And Juliet resided at the center of all of them.

When the song ended, Juliet blushed at the applause and from whatever the musicians were saying to her. Praise, most likely. He hadn't seen her accept praise or compliments without awkwardness. That was something he could work on.

Her blush deepened as she made her way back to the table, with the audience thanking her along the way.

The musicians cranked up a lively tune, and two couples started to dance.

Andreas stood and motioned to the chair. "We'll make a native of you yet, Doc."

"You'll pay, Andreas," she promised. But her smile said otherwise. She turned to Parker. "And now you know my secret love."

The glint in her eyes arrowed into him. Usually he read people well. Accurately, his uncle Santino, an international espionage expert, had once told him. But her message rebounded in him like a wild pinball that wouldn't be channeled by the chutes and bumpers of the game.

"I hope that doesn't mean you'll have to kill me and feed me to the sharks," he finally managed to say.

"Maybe to the turtles, but they're mostly vegetarians," she said with a laugh. "But I wouldn't dream of risking you until after our party."

A loud bang from the rear of the taverna had Parker jumping up. The taverna owner restrained a dark-haired man near the bar.

Andreas put a hand to Parker's arm. "Denis can handle him. Doria's son doesn't hold his drink well, but he's harmless."

The man gestured toward their table, but the taverna owner ushered him toward the front door.

Juliet rose from her chair. "That's Doria's son? I should talk with him."

Parker gently grasped her wrist and held her back. "Best to talk when he's sober."

She sat back down. "I suppose you're right."

Their dinner arrived, but Parker's thoughts weren't on the delicious food. He kept his eyes on the man leaving via the front door. Pavlos Vardakastani was on Parker's list. Right up there with Nikos. He'd be having a conversation with both men, and soon. And without Juliet.

# Chapter Eleven

I'm off to pick up Cameron Kelley." Andreas pretended to preen. "See how easily that tripped off my lips? I've been practicing staying calm so I don't go all fan-boy on her."

The idea of Andreas melting into a puddle in front of his favorite female star made Juliet chuckle. "Her bodyguard will keep you in check, so no worries."

It turned out that Parker hadn't had to hire a bodyguard; Cameron had emailed that she was bringing one of the guys who worked premieres with her. A man she trusted.

"Have you seen Parker?" Juliet asked. For more than a week, he'd dogged her every move. But now, two hours before the party was to start, she couldn't find him.

"You might check the kitchen. He's been driving the local caterers mad with his questions."

She still had a hard time reconciling the Parker who rode a horse like a demon and could probably out-bench-press his All-Star cousin with the man who was nearly obsessively compulsive about every minute detail of a party. But then, that was why she'd asked him to help her. At least, that was what she kept telling herself.

She skirted the stage and the pole holding the high-tech speaker system. Arrangements of coastal wildflowers and others from the local florist's back garden flanked the sides of the stage. Held in antique olive urns, the arrangements weren't flashy but were just enough to say special occasion.

She and Parker had argued over the decor. To her surprise, once she'd explained that she didn't want the party to seem ostentatious, that she wanted it to be simple yet elegant—to charm rather than hit people over the head—he'd agreed. He'd even complimented her foresight. And his compliments had unsettled her as much as had their earlier argument.

Long stainless-steel tubs lining one side of the room held champagne cooling on ice, ready to be uncorked for the celebration. She wished she felt that they had grounds to celebrate. But Parker had said that if you go in with a winning attitude and all the trappings, you were more likely to succeed.

The front door to the hall opened, and Doria walked in. The navy blue dress she wore was one shade lighter that her usual black, and her hair was pulled back in a sleek bun. Her tight-lipped expression made her look like she was ready for battle, not a party.

"My best party dress," she said, gesturing. "Actually, my only party dress."

Juliet walked over and hugged her. "It's perfect."

Doria pointed to the flower-flanked stage. "I want to stand up there. I've never spoken from a stage before, and I need to feel what it's like."

"Great idea. Make yourself at home. I was just going into the kitchen to find Parker."

"I'll come with you. I have a bone to pick with that boy."

"Maybe after the party would be a better time?"

"I'll see him now."

The scene in the kitchen would've been comical if Juliet's nerves weren't already frazzled. Parker stood towering over two Greek women, and he looked like he was going to combust.

"God, Doria, you're just in time," he said, running his hand through his hair. He gestured to the women. "Please explain to them that we need to serve the food before the speeches."

Doria chuckled. "The Laros twins might be the finest cooks on the island," she said quietly to Juliet, "but they are also the most stubborn."

The woman to Parker's right threw up her hands and began rattling off sentences in rapid-fire Greek that Juliet couldn't begin to follow. The woman started to undo her apron, and Parker waved his hands in front of her.

"No, no. You must stay." He looked over to Doria. "Tell her we need her."

"Then you'd better not be telling her how to run her kitchen," Doria said. "This isn't San Francisco, and you are not Zeus."

Doria crossed to the woman now holding her apron in her hand. She spoke softly to her, and the woman put the apron back on. But her hands went to her hips, and if fire could spark from eyeballs, she was sparking fire at Parker.

Juliet's heart softened. After all, he was suffering on her behalf.

Doria planted herself in front of Parker. "She says you might know all about flowers and fancy sound systems, but she knows what the people of Zantos want to eat and when. And she wants to serve the food after the speeches."

The woman's twin sister spoke up. Juliet made out that she would concede to serving the meatballs before the speeches.

At this concession, her sister's hands flew up in the air and she moved once again to take off her apron.

"Meatballs will be plenty," Parker said in his rough Greek. "Just fine." He glanced at his watch. "We have a dozen servers arriving in twenty minutes. Are we okay?" He looked to the two women.

They crossed their arms, almost mirror images of each other. And then they smiled.

Parker smiled back, and their smiles broadened.

" _Efharisto_ ," he said. "Thank you both so much."

Doria tapped his arm. "I want to practice with the microphone."

"Now?"

"Yes. I want to be at home up there." Doria motioned him to bend down to her. "And by the way, never try to tell Greek women how or what to cook. It took all my persuasion to get the twins to show up tonight after you argued with them over the menu yesterday."

Beside him, Juliet chuckled.

"Okay, I get the message, thank you." He pivoted to Juliet. "We should check your sound levels again too. I'll check Andreas's and Cameron's when they arrive."

On the way up to the stage, he leaned in close to Juliet. "Whatever battle I just fought in that kitchen, I think it's advantage turtles." He held her gaze. "The most important elements of this evening, the aspects that will turn the tide in your favor or not, won't be what you're expecting. We can only prepare and then simply surrender to the chemistry of the event." He put a finger under her chin. "Will you trust me?"

"After that performance in there?"

"Will. You. Trust. Me?"

She would. She had to. "Yes."

"You need to change."

"Pardon me?"

"Surely you're not wearing that."

She ran her hand down her jeans. "Are you asking or telling?"

"Um... asking?"

"Right answer. And yes, I planned to change. I brought the khakis from the _Sommelier_ shoot. And the white shirt. I don't want to look like I'm trying too hard. Or like I... I don't know, like I'm not one of them."

"You're _not_ one of them. Don't pretend; it would be a mistake. Let Andreas and Doria fill that role."

"Do you get up every morning and just know that all your decrees will be summarily followed?"

"Only the wise ones. The rest most people ignore."

Doria refused to rehearse her actual speech during the sound check. Juliet just checked her levels. No use practicing—she'd simply get nervous twice. Though Parker offered to drive her, she took off on her scooter to go home, change, and gather her wits.

The wind in her hair and the ride along the bay calmed Juliet. When she arrived at her place, she decided she had time for a quick shower.

She stood under the warm water and let it ease the tension that had settled into her neck. But as she relaxed, it wasn't images of the upcoming party that danced in her mind. Her body buzzed with heat as she remembered the kiss she and Parker had shared during the _Sommelier_ shoot. And his gaze on her as she'd played in the taverna. And the erotic images that had snuck into her dreams later that night. She cursed. How could she be thinking of Parker at a time like this? She needed to focus, not lose herself in useless fantasies.

She flipped off the faucet and stepped out of the shower. The sound of tires on gravel tightened the muscles she'd just worked so hard to relax. She wrapped a towel around herself and stepped to the window. A light dust blew in the breeze where someone had driven up the drive. A flash of yellow on her porch caught her eye.

Her front door creaked as she opened it. A bouquet of daisies rested against the top step. No note. She lifted the bouquet and went in to find something to put them in. An old pickle jar would have to do. Spreading the blossoms, she smiled. Wasn't this touch just like Parker? A little something to cheer her before their big event.

She laid out the khakis and the white shirt, but at the last minute decided that he was right—she should dress for the occasion. She slipped into the sleek coral sheath she'd bought in Athens the day she'd arrived in Greece. The purchase had been a whim, something she rarely gave in to. But as she zipped the dress and strapped on her gold sandals, she was glad she'd bought the dress. It made her feel confident. And pretty. Hadn't her mother always said that if a woman looked her best, she could do her best?

She grabbed her notes from the table, shoved them into her backpack and headed out the door. When she reached her scooter, she discovered she had a flat tire.

She didn't have a spare.

A quick glance at her watch told her that if she didn't hoof it down her drive and manage to hitch a ride, she'd be late for the party. She ran inside, took off her delicate sandals and shoved them into her bag. She laced up her sneakers and raced out the door. She was sweating by the time she jogged to the main road. A car of teenage boys approached, and though she was tempted, she thought better of thumbing a ride with them. She started jogging again and stopped only when she heard a car approaching from behind.

Thank God, it was Eleni, one of her volunteers. She flagged her down.

"You Americans pick the strangest times to jog," Eleni said as Juliet jumped into the car.

"My scooter had a flat tire. Tonight of all nights."

"Well, calm down. This is Greece; nothing starts on time."

Parker would have her head. If there was one thing he was crazed about, it was starting on time every time.

The parking lot of the community hall was crowded when they arrived. Eleni eased her car to the edge of the road and parked about three blocks away. As Juliet exchanged her sneakers for her sandals, she gave a silent prayer of thanks for Eleni. The young woman worked long hours as a maid at a hotel in town and still made time to help out at Oceana. Great volunteers were the backbone of any successful campaign. They were also key to making sure that the local efforts continued after Juliet and her cohorts moved on to other campaigns.

"You look really nice," Eleni said. "Professional but lovely."

"I can only hope that my Greek holds up for the evening."

"I can translate for you, back you up if you need help. It'd make me feel useful."

"You're on."

"On?"

"Yes. That means yes. I'd appreciate the help."

But as Juliet walked toward the voices and music spilling from the hall, she realized she wished she had more than a translator. What she really wanted was a miracle.

And she wished that she'd convinced Doria to let her review her speech. She trusted Doria, but there was so much at stake. If Doria's speech didn't reach the hearts of the good citizens of Zantos, all the party planning and the hard work done to carry off a great event would be for naught.

# Chapter Twelve

Parker paced the community hall. Juliet was late, while apparently everyone else on the island had decided to break convention and arrive early. They'd already gone through four cases of champagne, which was precisely why he'd wanted to serve dinner before the speeches, to fill bellies with substantive food to temper the tongue-loosening effects of alcohol.

Children dragged their parents to the posters and educational displays along one side of the room. The stuffed turtles Parker had express shipped from New York had arrived on time, and every kid had been given one when they arrived. A little turtle hugging couldn't hurt.

Juliet glided through the front door, and his heart stopped. She hadn't worn the khakis, and the dress she'd chosen instead hugged her curves and brought out the flecks of gold in her eyes. She saw him and waved. A woman Parker didn't know stuck close to her as they made their way to him.

"What happened to our schedule?" he asked, trying not to sound irritated. Juliet looked flustered.

"I'm here, aren't I? In time?" She nodded to the woman beside her. "This is Eleni. She's a volunteer at Oceana. She's offered to interpret for me if I need it."

"Hello, Eleni. Thank you. We may need your help." He motioned toward the stage. "We should get started. Meatballs can only hold off the effect of champagne for so long."

Eleni laughed. Juliet didn't. Her attention was elsewhere. He followed her gaze and saw Nikos and Fabia approaching. Fabia had a firm grip on Nikos's arm and appeared to be dragging him along beside her.

"We were hoping we could make an announcement this evening," Fabia said to Juliet.

Nikos turned to Fabia. "We discussed this. Now is not the time."

"We're engaged," Fabia said, brandishing a ring. She didn't take her eyes off Juliet and appeared to be seeking a reaction from her. Envy maybe? Regret that she'd not pursued Nikos and instead had opened the way for Fabia?

"Congratulations," Juliet said. "How wonderful."

"You are the first to know. We just decided this morning, didn't we, darling? I wanted to announce it here, while so many of Nikos's friends are gathered."

"But we shall wait," Nikos said firmly.

Fabia pressed her lips together.

"If you'll excuse us, we were just getting the program started," Parker said.

Eleni followed him and Juliet up to the stage.

"Those are perfect," Juliet said as she admired the two seven-foot photos of the bay and the beaches he'd placed behind the stage.

"Beauty is a great motivator."

"What's the screen for?"

"I had a bit of video put together for you. Something to set the mood." Her eyes went wide. "I would've shown it to you, but I just received it a half hour ago. You trust me, remember?"

Doria sat in the front row, her ankles firmly crossed. She clutched a sheet of paper in her hands.

"I wish I knew what was on that paper," Juliet said.

"Too late for worrying," he said as he checked the microphone. "All set."

He motioned Juliet and Eleni off the stage and stood with Juliet behind the column of speakers.

He took her hands in his. "Ready?"

"You're making me nervous."

"Nervous isn't a bad thing. It means you're paying attention."

"If the churning in my stomach is any indication, I'm definitely paying attention."

"I'll cue the music. Cameron should be here any minute; she made a couple of changes to the script you gave her. Nothing drastic, just to make it sound more like her." He turned to Eleni. "Would you like to translate? Cameron doesn't speak Greek. Andreas offered but it would be nice to have a woman's voice."

"I'd be honored," Eleni said, blushing.

A wave of energy surged in the room, palpable, physical. And Parker knew Cameron had arrived. Though he'd spent time with her, knew the woman inside the superstar, even he felt a hitch in his breath at the sight of her.

He'd teased her once, telling her that she had the effect of rearranging the atoms when she entered a room, of channeling everyone's energy to swirl around her. She'd laughed and told him that if that were true, she'd run for office. But it was true. Like a goddess commanding a vortex, she stood at the door, returning smiles and allowing the cheers and greetings to rebound around her. This was Cameron the movie star. Cameron his friend, playing her part. For him and for Juliet. And mostly for the turtles.

Andreas and her bodyguard stood on either side of her. The bodyguard's eyes scanned the crowd. Andreas's were focused on Cameron.

"I want you to go to her," he said to Juliet. "I want the two of you to walk up to the stage together, as if you're old friends."

Juliet appeared as stunned as the rest of the crowd. "You're sure?"

"It's in the script," he said with a grin. He nudged her. "Go on, it's showtime."

With just his energy, the bodyguard cleared a path for Andreas and Cameron; Cameron wasn't the only professional in the room who knew how to channel energy. Parker had to chuckle. Andreas, on the other hand, looked like a lovestruck puppy.

Juliet met Cameron halfway down the aisle between the rows of seats. Cameron smiled and tucked Juliet's arm in hers. Only Parker knew how uncomfortable Juliet felt, of the nerves wrangling in her belly. The face she showed to the world right then had confidence and ease written all over it. "Good going," he whispered to himself.

They stopped next to him, hidden from view by the column of speakers.

"You're going to emcee," he said to Cameron.

Juliet shook her head. "But I thought Andreas—"

"Trust me, Juliet."

Cameron laughed. "I know it's a challenge, but below Parker's handsome, charming surface lies a man who knows exactly how to move a crowd. He's ruthless, really. Watch your heart."

"She'll be a far better emcee than me," Andreas said.

Juliet grinned. "Trying to earn points with her already?"

Parker motioned to the stage. "I'm cueing the video. Juliet and Andreas, go sit with Doria."

The lights dimmed, and Juliet made herself breathe slowly. Quietly.

In one thousand one, one thousand two, out one thousand one, one thousand—

Doria reached over and squeezed Juliet's fingers in hers. " _Tou Theo. Makarious_."

Doria's gentle blessing swelled in Juliet's heart as the music soared and a perfect image of a loggerhead sea turtle dissolved into an image of Daphne Beach.

The video was perfect. No voice-over, just images of the island, the islanders, children, sea turtles and the nesting beaches, ending with a slow blackout to the tinkling, fading laughter of children.

After a moment of silence, applause thundered.

Cameron approached the podium, flanked by Eleni. After prolonged applause, Cameron motioned for the crowd to sit back in their seats and let her speak.

"You might wonder why I stand in front of you," Cameron began in perfectly accented Greek.

Juliet shouldn't have been surprised. Cameron was an actress, an excellent one. She'd won an Oscar for playing the role of a French dancer. She'd perfected the accent and the character. But Juliet had never expected Cameron to go to such lengths for this project.

"I have a story that you might want to hear," Cameron continued. She smiled, and Juliet could've sworn she felt the power of that smile, like a physical force radiating across everyone in the room. Movie-star charisma was real. And it was no wonder the camera loved Cameron.

Juliet sneaked a glance at Parker, who stood in the shadows at the side of the stage. He lifted a shoulder in a shrug as if to say, _See? I told you to trust me_.

"There was a time in my life, not so long ago, when I thought my heart was breaking," Cameron said to a room so quiet, the only sound was a few whispers from parents shushing their children. "A dark time. I won't go into details except to say that some of you probably know the feeling I'm speaking about. You feel that life no longer holds joy or delight, that there's no sparkle to the days. How many of you have ever felt like that?"

Juliet turned to see the response. Fifty hands went up. And those who didn't raise their hands looked like they wanted to.

"On the darkest of those days I was on location, shooting a film in Australia. A disturbing film. Some of you may have seen _Lost and Found_?"

Cheers rang out and hands went up.

"That night, I walked to the sea. There was a full moon, and I walked along the shore, maybe three miles beyond where our location trailers were parked. And I sat on the sand, watching the calm sea and trying my darndest to pull myself together. To lift myself out of the darkness that was about to engulf me. I think some of you probably know that feeling too?"

People nodded. Cameron had them transfixed.

"As I sat there, I heard a sound like the rustle of a breeze, but there was no breeze. Those of you who saw _Lost and Found_ know that dark and light forces battled, and the wind was a tool that they used to—" She stopped and turned to Eleni. They conferred for a moment, and Cameron turned back to the mike. "Sorry. I forgot the word for _try to have dominion_ ," she said in English. "They tried to have dominion, the dark over the light," she said, switching back into Greek. "I thought I was losing my mind, that the character in the film and the dark forces had seeped into my soul. But the sound became more distinct. And within minutes I was surrounded by hundreds of tiny sea turtle hatchlings scurrying on their oh-so-very-small little flippers toward the moonlit sea."

An image of turtle hatchlings flashed on the screen behind her and then came to life as the still photo morphed into video.

Then it faded to black.

"I watched the effort they made to climb over a clump of dried sea grass or to pull themselves out of a furrow in the beach. They were moving toward life, toward their futures, using everything they had to get to the sea and begin the next phase of living."

There were tears in the eyes of a woman to Juliet's right. She herself was tearing up.

"We often get so caught up in our illusions of what is real and what isn't. And being in the film world can make it doubly hard. But I can tell you that those baby turtles reminded me of the true force of life. Life wants to go on living, to exist, to grow."

She took a sip of water from the glass on the podium.

"And so I'm here to encourage you to consider carefully the future of your island. To consider your actions and how you'll support or not support these messengers of life, a life that reminds us we are part of a world we often forget. A world of great diversity and wonder. A world that can heal if we let it and if we nurture it as it would nurture us."

She touched her palms together, dipped her head and walked off the stage.

Some in the audience stood as they applauded. Juliet turned and scanned the room. A group of men in the back remained seated, Doria's son, Pavlos, among them. They weren't clapping. But the cheers and the shouts of approval from the rest of the audience were good enough for now.

Juliet walked to the side of the stage and over to Parker and Cameron.

"Thank you," she said. She looked to Parker. "And you too."

Cameron touched her arm. "No, thank _you_. You gave me a chance to thank those little turtle beings. I might not be standing here now if not for them."

The thought sent chills down Juliet's spine. Where would _she_ be if she didn't have her work, her passion for the animals and the ocean?

Parker took Juliet's hand. "You're up next."

"I can't possibly follow that."

"You don't have a choice."

"I'm giving your intro," Cameron said. "Parker sent it yesterday. I had to cut it a bit as it made you out like a saint. No one can relate to a saint." She poked Parker in the ribs. "You must've charmed him."

Juliet was speechless. Cameron took her hand and led her onto the stage. People clapped and the lights came up.

What Cameron said for her intro, Juliet had no idea. Juliet ran through her five sentences to introduce Doria and scooted off the stage.

"Perfect. That was perfect." Parker beamed.

"Hope you don't want a repeat performance, as I have no idea what I said up there. I could barely keep my lips from trembling."

"I like it when your lips tremble."

"Parker," Cameron said, "don't tease her. For goodness' sake, control yourself."

Doria tapped at the microphone. "Since I am the only thing standing between you and dinner," she said with a chuckle, "I will be merciful."

Cameron looked to Eleni. "I only memorized my speech. I have no idea what anyone is saying."

"I'll translate for all of you," Eleni said. "My gift to you."

Doria looked back at them. "And how is it that I have to follow a movie star? I will take that up with all of you later."

Laughter filled the room. Eleni translated and Parker chuckled.

"I am here to challenge you," Doria said in a stern, motherly voice. "For I believe that we all have a sense of meaning or purpose behind our words and our actions, but we've forgotten what it is. Like so many people these days, we've handed meaning over to TV, to scientists, to leaders we don't even have faith in, and we get lost. We can't, or don't, relate to the very qualities that lend meaning to our lives. And education these days? Bah! We should be lighting fires in young minds, not filling them up with ways to fit into molds."

A murmur of agreement went through the crowd.

"You can't separate Zantos from the turtles. You can't separate two entities that are inseparable—it will destroy both in the end."

Juliet stiffened when the cluster of men sitting with Pavlos snickered. But most everyone else watched, silent and nodding.

Doria ignored the men. "Our question today is: how will we thrive, here, in our place, on our island? How will we steward our treasures for our children's children?

"We start selling it off bit by bit? And give our power over to whom? To a corporation... to a group of investors who will take the money from the island and give it to others who care nothing about Zantos? Where will it go? And what will we have left?"

She cleared her throat, stretched up to her full height and pulled the microphone closer. "True power, authentic power, arises from meaning. It appeals to that part of our nature that we call noble, to what uplifts, dignifies and energizes. We have an opportunity to join together, to make a stand. To have real power in our lives and the lives on this island. To make a difference."

She spread her hands wide, opening her arms to the crowd. "If we support the marine park, we can protect the beauty, the integrity, of our place, and then no one can take it away. No one."

As if a switch had been thrown, allowing a current to flow, people in the room lit up. Juliet saw it in their faces, heard it in the thunder of their applause. Like a wave at a sports event, the excitement moved through the room, each person carrying energy and amplifying it, creating new energy.

A man she didn't know shot up from his seat in the back of the room. "You're asking us to endure certain and absolute short-term losses in jobs, in incomes and progress in order to open a door for uncertain long-term benefits that we don't even know will happen?" He put his fists to his hips. "I'm afraid people aren't wired that way. Not even Greeks, for all our history as philosophers and thought leaders, do that kind of ridiculous math."

Doria stood firm at the microphone. "You forget that it was a sea turtle that saved the first ancestor's life at sea and swam him safely to Zantos Island. You wouldn't be here today, Aneas, if it weren't for a sea turtle long ago."

"You _can't_ be arguing that sea turtles are more important than food on the table," Aneas roared back. "That's ridiculous."

A murmur went through the crowd, with some nodding.

Juliet motioned to Eleni and stepped toward the stage. Parker grabbed her arm and held her back.

"Temper, Juliet. Control your temper. Let Doria handle this."

Juliet shook off his hand. "I don't have a temper."

"Just trust the process," Parker said in a calm voice that only made her more nervous.

Never had she felt so helpless. It didn't help that Cameron's bodyguard stood grim-faced as he scanned the crowd, his body rigid as if he were coiled and prepared to strike.

"In the long run," Doria said in a steady voice, "protecting this habitat _will_ be all about putting food on the table. I'm asking you to wake up and pay attention."

And then she smiled out at the crowd. "I've known most of you since you were born. I have faith in you. And right now I understand the Laros twins have a meal ready for us."

A cheer went up. Doria leaned into the mike and said loudly, "I'll see you on the dance floor." She pointed to the back of the room. "You too, Aneas. You owe me a dance. Maybe two."

Parker nodded to the musicians, and they struck up a tune. He raised a hand to cue the tech guy he'd hired, and video scenes began to play on the screen behind the stage.

Doria hurried over and took Juliet's hand. "Aneas has always been a rabble-rouser. Let me handle him."

"That's what I told her," Parker said over the sound of the music and chatter.

"Thank you, Doria," Juliet said. "You were perfect." Doria looked tired, so Juliet added, "Won't you sit down and let me get you something to eat?"

"I'm going to mingle," Doria said. "I can rest when I'm dead." She laughed. "And no long faces. I'm planning on seeing children from all of you before I die."

"He shot us down," Juliet said after Doria made her way through the crowd. "You saw them nodding, agreeing."

Parker shook his head. "The energy that was there when Cameron spoke, when Doria spoke, it's still there. That's authentic power, Juliet. Authentic wins out in the long run."

"We don't have time for the long run, Parker. The prime minister will decide whether or not to act and put forth his declaration in the next few weeks."

Parker took her hand in his. "All the more reason to get back out there and charm some of the key influencers here tonight."

Juliet pulled her hand away and turned to Cameron. "Thank you for more than I can say. For all that you've done. For leaving your shoot..."

"I'm not sure I did much—"

"You touched their hearts. And you reminded them there's an outside world witnessing their actions. They'll remember that. It's not just about Zantos anymore. You brought the world close, into their midst, and I can't tell you how much that helps."

"I wish I could stay and help more," Cameron said. "I hope Parker told you that I have to fly out tonight. We wrap in Paris in three days and then head immediately to Morocco. I had to pretend I had food poisoning to skip out today." She turned to Parker. "But you're in good hands."

Parker nodded toward the crowded hall. "You'd better head out before this crowd starts hitting the ouzo."

Andreas approached them, his eyes flashing fire. He flipped the bodyguard his keys. "You drive Cameron to the airport; I'll pick my car up tomorrow. I need to help out here."

"We're fine, Andreas," Juliet said. "Really."

"I'm staying."

She didn't press him and neither did Parker. Yet something must have been terribly wrong for him to give up the opportunity to spend time with Cameron.

They said their goodbyes, and Cameron and her guard slipped out the back.

"What was that all about?" Juliet asked.

"Bad news," Andreas bit out. "Doria's neighbor, Markos, is selling—to a group of investors from Singapore. Nikos set up the deal. I just heard about it from one of the musicians."

Juliet spun on her heel and took off across the room. Parker matched her step for step.

"Don't blow up here," Parker admonished. "It might not be true. And even if it is, the deal might not go through. These things take time."

"I told you we don't have time. If we had time, do you think I would've asked you to do all this?"

She made a beeline to where Nikos was holding court with several men in suits. Fabia stood at his side. Juliet counted her steps and her breaths as she approached—anything to calm down.

"How _could_ you?" she said when she reached Nikos. So much for staying calm. "You have a hell of a way of being a friend."

"Gentlemen," Nikos said to the three men standing with them, "will you excuse us?" He turned to Juliet and Parker. "Let's talk on the patio."

"Is it true?" Juliet asked as they stepped into the cooling night air. "Did you talk Markos into selling his place?"

Fabia cleared her throat. "Actually, _I_ contacted them and invited them to tour the island. Development will be good for Zantos. It will bring new business and jobs. Nikos liked the idea, didn't you, darling?"

Juliet put her hands to her hips. "Did you hear _anything_ anybody said tonight?"

"I liked the stories very much," Fabia said. She looked up at Parker from under her lashes. "And your video was gorgeous. Truly. Such lovely footage of Zantos. I haven't seen all of the island, and now I'm intrigued. I'd like to borrow it to show to the investors."

Parker didn't say anything. His face was set, but his eyes were scanning their faces.

Juliet felt like she was in some kind of drugged dream. "It's all that beauty that we're talking about here. As in preserving it, Fabia."

Fabia tapped her manicured fingers against Juliet's arm. "I'm sorry this is so hard for you, but the world, it's changing. You can't hold back the future. Zantos can't be an island out of time any longer. It needs new energy. New commerce. Partnering with international developers is a good step forward."

"Sorry!" Juliet jerked her arm back. "Sorry? You don't know what you've done."

Nikos stepped between them. "Nothing is set yet, Juliet. Markos is only considering the proposal. If he agrees with you, then you have nothing to fret about. This isn't the first time he's been approached about selling. And if I didn't represent them, they'd easily find someone else to do the job. At least _I_ understand your concerns."

"Fat lot of good that's doing," she muttered. "I'm going to speak with him myself." She slanted a glance at Parker. "Come with me. Please. Or I just might say something I'll regret."

# Chapter Thirteen

Parker helped Juliet search the hall and discovered that Markos had left after Doria's speech. The defeat he saw in her eyes as she filled Andreas in on the conversation with Nikos and Fabia woke the fighter in him that he'd tried to keep leashed.

"Would you stay here and represent Oceana and the campaign?" she asked Andreas. "I don't trust myself to be much of a diplomat right now. In fact, I feel like punching something. Or someone."

"Sure, boss. I'll drink your share of the champagne too. Especially as I don't have a car to drive. Eleni offered me a ride home."

They saw Nikos, Fabia and the suits leave by a side door.

"At least I'll know you won't take Nikos out tonight."

"He's not my type," Andreas said. He put an arm around her shoulders. "It's just round one, Juliet. And we won this one." He pivoted her to face the hall full of locals. "When you get Greeks laughing and dancing together, you've laid ground."

As Andreas headed off into the crowd, Parker hoped he was right.

"Would you give me a ride?" Juliet asked.

"I'd planned on it. No scooter?"

"It had a flat. My road is rough," she added quickly. "It was going to happen sometime."

"Mmm hmm." He held the door, and they stepped out into the balmy night.

"What does that mean?"

"It means mmm hmm."

He'd have a look at the scooter. See for himself what had happened. Though nothing alarming had occurred since he'd arrived, with the party kicking off the public phase of the campaign, it didn't surprise him that whoever had threatened Juliet might renew their efforts.

She was quiet for the first half mile. And though he had questions, he wanted to give her a chance to unwind. Mentioning his suspicions wouldn't help that cause.

He turned off the main road and headed up the lane leading to her place. It was rough, but not rough enough to cause a flat.

Juliet let out a long sigh. "I wish we had a full moon and tiny turtles to make me feel better."

"Hey," he said, tapping her on the knee. "It was a good night. Not perfect, which is my usual standard, but it went well."

"God, I'm an ingrate. The party was amazing, Parker. I can't begin to thank you; I could never have pulled that off. And Cameron was—well, she was beyond amazing. And Doria too. I think they really heard her, don't you?"

"Mmm hmmm." He had a sister. He knew that talk, words, could help dissolve the anxiety eating away at her.

But she fell silent, pulling her legs up under her and hugging her knees.

"I was deluded to think that there wouldn't be some dissension."

"Yup."

"Jeez, Parker, you don't have to agree with me."

He pulled up in front of her cottage, turned off the motor and took the key from the ignition. "But I do. _And_ I need to make a deal with your lovely but deluded self."

"No, no deals. Not tonight. I can't think straight. You wouldn't want to take advantage of me, would you?"

Oh, but he would. It had taken all his willpower not to plant a kiss on her earlier as he'd held the car door and she'd slipped by him and into the seat. But her report of a flat tire and her obvious agitation after the encounter with Nikos and Fabia made him check his selfish desires. Acting on the want she fired in him would be worse than foolish, it would be unkind.

"I like a fair playing field." He followed her up the steps to her door.

She leaned against the doorframe and looked up at him from under dusky lashes. His body responded in spite of his better intentions. Perhaps there was some Greek island goddess manipulating him and enjoying the torture she created.

"I meant to thank you for the flowers. That was incredibly thoughtful."

"I wish I could take credit for them."

Her shoulders went rigid, and his body tightened in response.

"When did you receive flowers?"

"While I was in the shower. Just before—"

She turned and looked out at the driveway in front of her place.

"Just before what?"

"Just before I heard a car pull away."

"And just before you noticed you had a flat tire? A flat that you probably didn't have before this mysterious delivery?"

"You're scaring me."

"What else haven't you told me? Have there been other threats that you haven't told me about, Juliet? Other than the letters?"

"Just one. Before you arrived." She rubbed at her forehead. "Did Zuri tell you? I made her promise not to and—"

"No, evidently my sister is good at keeping secrets. As long as they're not mine."

She laughed, and it broke the thick web of tension that hung between them. But he needed answers.

"The threat, Juliet—I want the details. I can't help you if I don't know what the hell is going on."

"I asked you here to plan the party, Parker. And I'm grateful for what you've done. But I can deal with the rest of the campaign."

"If you're so grateful, then you can indulge me in this one request."

"Someone wrote a message on the mirror of my scooter. I won't repeat what it said."

"I'd like you to repeat the message." He tried to make his demand sound like a request.

" _Skase prin ginoume kolo_." She frowned. "I figured it was kids."

"Translation, please."

"'Shut up before we fight,' or something similar. I haven't asked anyone. I might not even remember the words right."

"Close enough. Do you have a flashlight?"

"I'm a scientist; of course I have a flashlight."

"Then may I come in? I'd like to see these flowers. And I'd like to use your flashlight."

She pressed away from the doorframe. "I can make some tea. But, Parker?"

He stopped just inside her door. "Yes?"

"Maybe I could use some advice, but none of your behind-the-scenes recon."

"Like I would ever—"

"I'm best friends with your sister, remember? I know the craziness you can get up to. She says you're like a bloodhound when you're chasing down information. Or people. Or anything."

"Busted."

She was pouring tea into cups when he returned from examining her scooter.

"Hold out your hand," he said.

He dropped the shiny, wide nail he'd pulled from the tire into her palm.

She let out a small sigh. "That's a relief."

"Why?"

"I ran over a nail. It's not some plot to destroy me or take over the island."

"This nail was in the _top_ of your tire." He lifted the nail from her and turned it into the light. "And it's smooth. Perfectly smooth."

"I can see that."

"The surface hasn't been scratched or marred as it would've been if you'd run over it and then it banged against the road on your way home." He set the nail on the table next to the teacups. "Whoever jammed this into your tire isn't a genius."

"Or doesn't know anything about tires."

"Or both."

"Tea?" Her hand trembled as she held out the cup.

He hadn't wanted to frighten her, but he did want her to face up to the reality of her situation. "I want to move in here with you."

"I thought you were leaving right after the party."

"Changed my plans. I'd like to help you make more progress."

She swallowed hard and again rubbed at her forehead. "I don't have a couch."

"I don't need a couch."

"You're overreacting. So what if someone is trying to scare me? They just wanted me to miss the party. It's not like my life was in danger or anything." She wrapped her fingers around her teacup and sank down into a chair. "I've faced threats before."

"To you, personally, or just to your campaigns?"

"To the campaigns."

Her courage was just one current in the river of allure that drew him to her. But courage without wisdom was dangerous.

"What can I say to convince you that paying attention to your own safety is part of a good campaign strategy?"

She let out a long breath and stared down at her teacup.

"I'll sleep in my car."

That got her attention.

"I thought you weren't a camper."

"I'm not."

"Like I said, I don't need to be babysat, Parker. Look, I'm tired, you're tired—"

"I'm not tired."

"Okay, _I'm_ tired and, well, isn't that good enough? Tomorrow I'll take you out in the boat to Marathonisi Island. I need a break, and you can scope out the perimeter of the marine park. And then you really should head back to your life. As you said the day you arrived, you're busy."

He regretted the heated words he'd said that first afternoon after he'd arrived. "Not so busy, it turns out."

She grinned at him. "Well, you _could_ make yourself very useful by coming with me tomorrow afternoon to meet with Doria's neighbor, Markos. You can keep me from trouncing him."

"It's a deal. But I'm not leaving you alone tonight. Either you come with me to the hotel, or I stay here."

The next morning the sun blazed in through the windshield of the rented SUV. Even with the seats levered as horizontal as he could make them, the vehicle offered no comfortable position for a six-foot-four man who'd lost his better judgment. He should've insisted that Juliet get a room next to his in the hotel.

But she'd held firm. Still, she hadn't been able to make him drive away.

He jumped when he heard a tap at the driver's window.

Juliet smiled and held up a ceramic mug.

"I had mercy on you and made coffee instead of tea this morning."

He slid out of the seat. When his feet hit the ground, he knew he'd ache all day from the cramped night with little sleep.

"If you really had mercy, you would've invited me inside to sleep on your floor."

She chuckled. "You're lucky I didn't have you towed away during the night."

His fingers brushed hers as he took the mug. Even at the early hour, a sizzle ran straight to his core. Maybe it was the thin cotton nightgown hugging her curves. She couldn't know it, but with the sun directly behind her, she might as well have been wearing nothing at all. He stifled a groan. Why, out of all the women in the world, did his chemistry decide that he had to have this one?

She stepped away from him, and her smile faded. Maybe his arousal showed in his face. He schooled his features.

"I'll rustle up some breakfast and a picnic for our island excursion. You're welcome to use the shower. But if you want to shave, the only sink is in the kitchen."

He rolled his shoulders. "The way my muscles feel right now, I may never leave the shower."

"No sympathy from me, California Boy. I told you that you were being paranoid. The only action last night was a couple of skunks mating. That's the scent you smell in the air this morning."

"Always the scientist." He hadn't heard a thing. Which made his vigil in the SUV all the more ridiculous.

She tilted her head and grinned. "Yup. Always the scientist."

Her smile reached inside him and dissolved a few kinks. But as the breeze pressed her nightgown against her, he had a different kink to consider. He shifted his jeans on his hips and spilled coffee on his shirt. He was worse than a teenager around her.

Watching Parker shave at her kitchen sink was torture. Though he'd protested, she'd insisted on washing the coffee stains from his shirt and spreading it to dry on her outdoor laundry line. But boy, she hadn't thought that plan through. With him shirtless and leaning over her small counter, she could see every muscle in his back. The man could've trotted up to the Parthenon and asked for admission to Olympus with a physique like his.

She busied herself pulling together their picnic but couldn't help stealing glances at him as she did.

"Damn!"

His curse startled her.

"Do you have a styptic stick?" He turned to face her. "I've cut myself."

Water dripped down his chest, running a trickle into the waistband of his pants. Juliet swallowed, trying to bring moisture to her dry mouth. Ever since the _Sommelier_ shoot, she'd wondered what the geography below his belt line would look like. Worse, she'd fantasized what that particular part of him would feel like up against her body, filling her. She'd had to count backward from a hundred three times the night before to block her fantasies long enough to fall asleep.

She swallowed again but couldn't take her eyes off him.

"I have a Band-Aid." Her voice wavered.

Was she panting? She felt like she was hyperventilating. Maybe from the stress. Yeah, had to be the stress. They said stress could cause delayed reactions. But as she stared, she knew she was lying to herself. It wasn't just Parker's body-wrenching, gorgeous maleness that had her worked up, it was the whole package. Well, except for his high-handed, know-it-all attitude. And even that part of him she was beginning to like.

He held her gaze and pressed his lips together. Surely a razor cut couldn't cause the pain she saw in his eyes.

No, she was not going to go there. Not going to start relating to his deeper thoughts, his wounds, to the man below the surface of the enigmatic and charming façade. If she let him get under her guard any further, she'd be all in.

"I'll just grab that Band-Aid," she said and fled into her tiny bathroom.

She leaned against the wall. _Campaign. Sea turtles. Marine park. Mission. Strategy._ She repeated the words as if they could drag her focus from the sensations pulsing in her. _Mistake. Big mistake. Very. Big. Mistake._

Having a fling, that was one thing. Falling deeply for a guy who wasn't interested in having a relationship was more than a blunder. Too bad her heart had crossed that line during the _Sommelier_ shoot. Imagining and chanting and focusing weren't going to change that fact now. And after seeing Parker in action? After working beside him for the past week and a half? She'd discovered he was the kind of man she'd convinced herself didn't exist: fascinating, intelligent and bighearted. And his integrity and excellence coupled with the crazy-making desire he fired in her was a recipe for heartbreak.

_Recipe_? Who was she kidding? The dish was already simmering, with her heart as the main ingredient. If she didn't get her act together and turn the flame down, she'd be totally and irrevocably scorched.

She hauled in a breath and regarded herself in the mirror. Her pupils were dilated, her face flushed. A few deep breaths didn't quell the trembling in her belly.

She had to convince him to leave the island. If she didn't get a very firm grip on her runaway emotions, she'd start making mistakes. And not just with him but on the campaign. She couldn't afford either kind.

And she sure as hell shouldn't have invited him on the boat trip.

But she had invited him.

In her mind she ran the scenario for the day ahead: quick boat trip, then the visit to Markos, and then she'd make sure Andreas joined them for dinner. And if she had to spend the night in a hotel room to get Parker to mellow out and then leave in the morning, she would.

No, that would be ridiculous. She'd tell him she'd spend the night with Andreas, that they had work to do. That was better. And she'd have Andreas take Parker to the airport the next morning. She sucked at goodbyes. She might crumple on the spot, falter in her resolve and give in to the want that threatened her better judgment. Best not to take the chance. Andreas was the perfect excuse to get her the distance she needed.

But for now she had to get through the rest of the day without making a total fool of herself.

# Chapter Fourteen

Parker wanted to change out of the rumpled formal clothes he'd slept in. As Juliet waited in the rented SUV, she took advantage of the strong cell signal and called Zuri.

"You do know it's midnight, right?" her friend said in a sleepy voice.

"Your best hour, you once told me," Juliet teased. "It's a bright sunny day here."

"I was younger then. Why do I doubt you called to chat about the weather?"

"I need you to talk to your brother. I need to get rid of him. He's hovering and driving me nuts."

"Fat chance. I've been trying to get him to stop hovering for years."

"Seriously, Zuri."

"Didn't the party go well?"

"He did a great job pulling the party together. Awesome, really. I'll send you an email with all the details and some photos. We did hit a few bumps but I think overall we made forward progress for the campaign. But it's time for Parker to head back to his life in California."

"And his opinion is?"

" _His_ opinion doesn't matter. I can't think straight with him around."

"Sounds complicated. How about I referee? I need a vacation, and I'd like to see the island."

"Not now. I mean, I'd love to see you but after today it's full-on work for me. No time for play. If my team succeeds, you can come celebrate. And if I get kicked off the island, you'll be seeing me soon anyway."

"Sounds like a bad episode of _Survivor_."

"Feels worse than that." Juliet let out a long breath. "The cannibals are winning."

"You _never_ admit to defeat. Have there been more incidents?"

If she told the truth, Zuri wouldn't listen to reason. She'd want to help immediately. Maybe it was a Tavonesi family trait. She loved her friend's courage and loyalty but she sure didn't need to have Zuri underfoot to deal with right then. But she couldn't lie. Theirs was a relationship founded on honesty.

"Parker thinks someone intentionally flattened the tire on my scooter last night, just before the party. And in the same time frame someone left a bouquet of flowers on my front doorstep, no note. That part gave me the creeps."

"No wonder he's hovering. I'm coming. I'm checking flights on my computer as we speak."

"Please don't. I promise to be totally careful."

"Hmm... I'll give you a week, but only because I love you. And you're probably right; I'd just be in the way, someone else to distract you. But I'll only stay put if you also promise that if there are any more pranks or threats, you'll tell the police. You should've already."

"I promise."

"And from the sound of things, you'd better keep my brother. He can be marvelous in ways you might not be able to imagine right now."

That was the problem—she could imagine. _Had_ imagined. And her fantasies about the marvels of Parker Tavonesi had nothing to do with campaigns or sea turtles.

"I don't need him watching my every move and making me nervous. I'm already starting to second-guess myself." That part was true. "Please talk to him, Zuri. I'm hoping he'll get on a plane tomorrow. And then I can focus."

"Is he messing with your head, Juliet? If he is, I'll threaten to mess with his wine fermentation."

Her heart was the problem, not her head. But she didn't want to admit that. Not even to Zuri. "No. He's been..." She sought the words. "A perfect gentleman."

As a pause stretched into several seconds, Juliet looked at the reception bars on her phone, thinking they'd lost their cell connection.

"I see," Zuri said softly.

"What do you mean, you see?"

"Ummm... nothing. I'll talk to him. But don't count on me having any sway. Once he's got his heart in a project, he likes to see it to its proper conclusion."

"He already did what I asked him, so mission accomplished. The party's over. And please don't tell him I called you."

There was another long pause before Zuri said, "Subterfuge is not your strong suit, Juliet."

"Yeah, well, I'm lucky mercy happens to be a strong suit of yours. I'll call you toward the end of the week."

Parker slipped into the driver's seat just as she was ending the call. His jeans fit him like they'd been woven directly on his body, and the short-sleeved T-shirt bared his tanned and flexing biceps. He tossed a backpack into the rear seat and then turned one of his high-wattage smiles to her. She frowned.

"Trouble?" He nodded at the phone she was still clutching.

"Just catching up with a friend."

There would be no mercy for her today.

She'd set up this torture session, so she'd just have to live it through.

Parker helped Juliet launch the twelve-foot inflatable boat from a cove at the east end of Laganas Bay. She hadn't needed his help; in fact, she'd been downright testy proving that she would've been just fine launching the boat without him.

"Watch for turtles," she said as she started the small motor. "Early arrivals. I'll go slow, but I like to keep a good distance from them at all times." She shaded her eyes with her hand and peered across the expanse of blue, regretting that she'd left her sunglasses in the SUV. "I wish I could convince the local fishermen to be more cautious."

"Won't the marine park regulations take care of that?"

"Not really. We'll have to train volunteer wardens to patrol. At least at first. But this area is a nursery for fish. See the sea grasses? Perfect habitat for young fish."

The motor sputtered. Parker bit back the impulse to jump up from his seat near the front of the boat and help her.

She adjusted the throttle and grinned at her success in getting the motor to fire smoothly.

"This finicky motor and I have a tenuous relationship. If Oceana gets the grant we submitted last week, it's on the list for immediate replacement."

The breeze coming off the ocean caught her hair. With one hand on the tiller and the other raised to hold back her blowing curls, she looked like a cover model for _Outdoor Life_.

"I have hope that the locals will realize that if they reduce fishing in this area, they'll have bigger fish in the non-protected waters in the long run."

They headed southwest across the bay, toward a small island on the horizon.

"The current is strong today," she said. "I should've checked the tides. I'll navigate toward the west shore and we should be fine."

Parker gestured to the motor. "I'd like to buy them a new motor. And a couple of tablets to use in the field. Andreas said the interns are still recording their data longhand."

"You've already done plenty, Parker. Don't feel obligated to do more."

"You're hard to help."

But maybe, like him, she had good reasons for not trusting those who wanted to assist her. His own resistance to accepting help was ingrained.

Help, if the source of it proved untrustworthy, could be deadly. Acid churned in his stomach as he shoved down images of his mother at the edge of death, struggling against her illness. He refused to think any more about her trusting a doctor who turned out to be a quack—a smooth talker who had fed her lies that she'd believed, lies that even as a child he'd known weren't true. But no one had listened to him. He'd decided early on that he'd give help rather than receive it, that he'd rely on his own wits and judgment. Trusting in himself and only himself was far safer.

Juliet gestured to the tiller. "You can help. Steer toward that point on the west side of the island. I need to get a rubber band from my bag and tie my hair back before it drives me nuts."

His fingers brushed hers as he took control of the tiller. She balanced herself before crawling to where her backpack rested against his in the front of the boat. When she leaned down to unzip the top compartment, her shorts rode up, baring the curves of white skin at the tops of her thighs.

He should've been ready for the pulse of blood that shot to his groin, since he hadn't made any progress on shutting down his desire for her. Hadn't banished his fantasies of kissing her along that white line of skin, of running his lips farther up and of pleasuring her until she screamed out his name.

Some help he was. He tore his gaze away and focused on the western point of the small island about a mile in the distance. She was right; the current was strong. He adjusted their course a few degrees to make sure it wouldn't carry them off course.

"Much better," he heard her say.

He turned back to her. She'd pulled her hair up into a cap, the shiny ponytail sticking out the back like a spike of pure amber fire.

The motor sputtered. He reached for the throttle and opened it to let more fuel pass through. Another sputter rattled the motor, and then it stopped.

"Swap places with me." She motioned to the middle of the boat. "I have this baby down pat."

She fiddled with the throttle and pulled on the starter cord. Nothing.

"Maybe the fuel line jiggled loose?" he offered.

She ran her hands along the line. "Nope. Secure."

The current was already pushing them east of the island.

She pulled on the starter cord again and cursed when the motor didn't respond.

"Can I have a look?"

She eyed him. "Do you know anything about boat motors?"

"Not much," he admitted. "But I've watched Alex's wife—you know Jackie, right?—fiddle with them."

"Be my guest."

They swapped places again. She pulled a water bottle from her backpack, took a long swig and then offered it to him.

"Maybe better go easy on the water; we might be out here for a while," he said, only half-joking.

He lifted the cover, checked the connections. No loose wires.

He traced the line to the gas tank. And then he shook the small red tank.

"It's empty," he said, trying to keep any alarm out of his voice.

"Can't be. I filled it this morning."

"It's empty, Juliet." Now was not the time for him to dwell on the fact that someone had intentionally sabotaged her boat. "Time for me to start rowing for that island before the current carries us off into the Ionian Sea."

She whipped out her phone from her back pocket. Her face fell as she studied the screen. "No signal." She stashed the phone, then grabbed the oars and fitted them into the oarlocks. "I'll row. This is my problem."

He couldn't help but smile. "It's _our_ problem. And not to cast any judgment on your physical abilities, but I probably have four times your strength."

"Four?"

"Let's not argue about numbers." He pulled the oars from her grasp. "Know any good sea shanties?"

He began rowing, steady and hard. But the current was stronger than it had appeared and was pushing them farther east.

"Is there a beach where we could land on the other side? If I can get us past the east cliffs and then cut perpendicular, the island might block the current enough for us to land."

She stared off into the distance. "I've never been to the south side of the island. But I have a map."

He heard her unzip the backpack. He squinted against the blaze of the sun on the water and pressed his lips together. He wouldn't be looking at her legs and imagining anything this time. He needed all his concentration to row against the strong current. But in spite of his resolve, the images rose anyway. He channeled power into his stroke.

"There's a small beach just past that point, maybe two hundred yards to the southwest," she said. "Can I spell you? Please let me help. I got us into this fix."

"If I can't fight off the current, how far to the next island?"

There was a pause and a rustle of paper. "A hundred miles. The mainland is closer. Twelve miles, thirteen at the most. God, Parker, I'm so sorry."

He grunted. "I'll let you make it up to me."

After about fifteen minutes, blisters formed on his hands but he managed to round the point. The current slacked off, and the beach came into view.

A sea turtle popped up beside the boat, sporting an antenna.

"It's Artemis!" Juliet cried as she knelt and peered over the side. "She's back. It's been two years since they've seen her."

Pleasure flushed her face as she grinned. The turtle dove and then resurfaced closer to them.

"The radio tag stopped sending signals two weeks ago. We thought she'd been hit by a tanker or caught in a fishing net. Oh, Parker, wait until I tell Eleni. She rescued Artemis and nursed her after her flipper repair. See the scar on the right front flipper?"

"Can't look right now," he managed to say. His hands weren't burning as much as his lungs. But they were now within thirty feet of the beach.

"Right. Sorry. Of course you can't." Her face brightened. "I could row us in so you can look closer."

That she would want him to see the flipper repair charmed him in spite of his burning hands and lungs. And that she was more concerned about the welfare of a sea turtle than she was about their predicament enchanted him. Hell, just about everything about Juliet Cabot fascinated him.

"Trim the motor up, Juliet. I'm taking us in."

Five minutes later they were dragging the boat up the beach past the high-tide line. Parker collapsed on the sand in the shade cast by the boat.

"I have lunch," Juliet said as she knelt beside him. "But it's not much of a thank-you for keeping us from being lost at sea."

His stomach growled at the mention of food. "We might want to assess our provisions. How often do boats pass this way?"

"Not often. Mostly they go around the west side to avoid the current."

"Smart skippers. We could fire a flare."

Her face fell. "No flare."

"It would be blocked from Zantos by these cliffs in any case. But I thought if a boat approached close from this side... Never mind, we'll think of something."

"I do have a first aid kit in my backpack. Let me look at your hands."

He rested his hands on his abdomen, the backs pressing against his sopping-wet shirt. His breath had calmed but his lungs were still ragged from the all-out exertion. And forget about his arms. They'd ache for days.

Juliet knelt in the sand beside him and opened a small plastic kit with a red cross on the side.

He leaned up on his elbows to see what manner of doctoring he was in for.

"Down," she said, pressing him back. "Don't you trust me?"

He realized she was stronger than she appeared. He should've known from the way she'd handled the boat that morning. He could feel the heat of her palms where she'd pressed them against his shoulders. He turned his head and had a square-on view of her thighs. He raised his gaze. Her breasts pressed against the thin fabric of her shirt.

He sucked in a breath.

She muttered as the packet of antibiotic ointment resisted her attempt to open it.

"Allow me." He sat up, took the packet from her and ripped it open with his teeth.

"I won't ask what you practice that move on," she said. A blush spread up her neck. "I'm sorry. What a thing to say. It's just that I—"

She put her hands to her face as a sob escaped her.

He wrapped an arm around her.

"Hey, it's okay." He drew her against his chest.

"Nothing's okay." She shuddered against him.

He touched his chin to the top of her cap. "If I were marooned on an island after the stress of the past few days, I might shed a few tears."

She looked up at him, tears pooling in her eyes. "You _are_ marooned on an island."

"It's not like we're in the middle of the Pacific."

"Someone emptied my gas tank, Parker."

There was no denying it. "Yeah."

She wiped the back of her hand against first one eye and then the other. "I don't cry. I _won't_. I'm not going to let them beat me or beat the turtles. I'm not."

He rocked her ever so slightly. "Nope. Not going to let them."

She pressed away. "Don't humor me."

Her lips trembled. And he couldn't resist.

"I won't then." He dragged her to him and crushed her lips with a furious kiss. Her hands rose to the nape of his neck, her fingers clenched in his hair. And to his burning joy, she opened to his kiss.

His mind went blank. There was nothing but a raging desire powering through him as her tongue tangled with his, darting, pressing, tempting. He slid his hand up under the edge of her shirt, felt her breath catch against his mouth when he lifted her breast in his palm. Her nipple was hard, and he rolled the firm bud between his thumb and finger. Her breath hitched but she didn't pull away. He deepened the kiss and slowly slid his hand down, across the plane of her taut belly and across the fabric of her shorts. When his fingertips grazed the top of her thigh, it was his turn for his breath to catch. Was she wet? Could she possibly want him as much as he wanted her?

He slid a finger under the cotton shorts, felt the silk of her panties and slid in farther. She was wet, all right. His erection pulsed. Without breaking their kiss, he cradled her in one arm and laid her back on the sand, at the same time sliding the finger of his other hand along the warm, wet folds of her sex. He found the nub he sought, stroked once and paused. If she wanted him to stop, she'd better say so now.

Her cry against his mouth had no sound of reprisal. He stroked again—slowly, gently—and she arched up into his palm.

He had to see her. Taste her.

He broke off the kiss. She grabbed his hair and pulled him back, her tears gone and a near fury-like fire in her eyes. She bit at his bottom lip.

In one quick move, he broke away and had her shirt up around her neck. His lips closed around her nipple, his teeth grazing the tight, hard bud while his fingers stroked smoothly. She writhed under his touch. He slid a finger into her, and her muscles clenched. He moved to slip in another but the cloth of her shorts made it awkward.

He rose to his knees and whipped off his shirt. He lifted her bottom, eased the shirt under her and then unzipped her shorts.

She reached for him, and he let her pull him to her, lost himself in the fervor of her kiss. He slid his palm down and cupped her mound again, then eased two fingers into her slippery heat. She moaned against his lips and deepened her kiss. He trailed his lips along the smooth skin of her throat, tasted the salty indentation along her collarbone. Unable to resist, he tracked his lips down to her nipple, sucking as he moved his fingers in a slow rhythm inside her. She arched into his hand and cried out his name. He'd imagined hearing his name moaned from her lips in endless fantasies, but the reality rocked him to his core. He crouched back to his knees and with his free hand pulled her shorts and her panties down, exposing a red-gold triangle of curls. He tugged the clothing down her legs. She wriggled one foot free and then the other.

Permission granted.

The muscles of her abdomen flexed as she tried to sit up, but he pressed her back down.

"Don't you trust me?" he said, echoing her previous question. But his wasn't a question. It was a prelude to him bowing down and running his tongue along her seam, to him finding the hard nub and sucking. A prelude to discovering that her taste was sweet, like the first honey of the summer, and salty like the sea. His erection throbbed, ached. He wanted her like he'd wanted no other woman. Had wanted her since that bright day in his vineyard.

Though want and need screamed in him for release, he focused his energies on her. He stroked a circle and then sucked gently, tasting her wet sweetness. She yelped and bucked against his lips as her fingers laced into his hair. Her thighs closed in against his cheeks, and he smiled against her skin. Maybe it had been a while since she'd been properly pleasured. He would make up for that travesty.

" _Yassas_?" A voice boomed over the sound of the lapping surf. " _Yassas_?"

Juliet stilled under him. Putting her hands to his shoulders, she pressed him back and sat up, motioning silence with her finger against her mouth.

She grabbed at her shorts and panties and pulled them up her legs. She kneeled and then tossed him his shirt. Then she grabbed it back, shook the sand from it and handed it to him.

"Yassas," she said as she stood and brushed the sand from her hair.

Parker jumped to his feet, his erection straining against the zipper of his jeans. He tucked his shirt into the front of his pants in an attempt to camouflage the bulge and followed her around the back of the Zodiac to the tideline.

A small fishing boat bobbed about twenty feet offshore. He breathed a sigh of relief as he realized that the Zodiac had blocked him and Juliet from view.

Juliet ran out onto the sand and in stuttering Greek called out to the boat for help.

A man with a captain's cap stood in the cockpit. A couple, dressed for what appeared to be a Broadway show from the Roaring Twenties, stood peering out from the bow.

"Ahoy," the man said with a wave and a broad smile. The woman next to him waved too. "Can we land on your private island?"

The captain appeared alarmed at the suggestion.

Juliet cupped her hands to her lips. "Bad idea. You might ground."

The woman shook her head and whispered something to the man.

"Righto. Wouldn't want that; we have a cocktail party at four o'clock. Well, nice meeting you. We'll have to come back in a smaller boat next time."

He motioned to the captain.

"No!" Juliet shouted.

Parker raced up beside her and waved his arms. "We need a ride to Zantos." He motioned to the Zodiac. "We have no gas."

"Oh," the man shouted back. "Why didn't you say so in the first place?"

Why indeed? Probably because if her brain was as scrambled by interrupted passion as his was, they were lucky to be stringing sentences together in any language.

"Could you give us a tow?" Parker shouted.

The captain nodded. The man and the woman clapped their hands.

Juliet uttered only a few terse commands as they worked to shove the Zodiac back into the waves. At least she'd listened to reason and jumped into the boat and let him push it into the surf. The cool water helped calm his erection. Once he was back in the boat, he donned his dripping shirt.

The captain of the fishing boat was skilled at maneuvering and got his boat in close to shore without grounding it. Parker gave a silent prayer of thanks—his hands wouldn't have been happy if he'd had to row more than a few yards.

Five minutes later, he and Juliet were aboard the fishing boat with the Zodiac safely bobbing on a towline behind.

"Martini?" the man asked, waving a thermos. "I know it's a bit early, but we're on vacation. I'm Thurston Baxter, and this is my beautiful wife, Shirley. We're from South Africa. Where are you two from?"

"California," Parker and Juliet said in unison.

Juliet dragged a water bottle out of her backpack. "Thanks, but I'll stick with water." She offered a second bottle to Parker, and he drained it.

"I adore California," Shirley said. "Especially San Francisco. Are you from near that marvelous city?"

Maybe the sun had bleached out his brain cells, or maybe the exertion of rowing had shut down the blood supply to his head, but for a moment Parker could only stare at the immaculately dressed couple. A silver headband circled her forehead, and she wore a beaded dress that even in its day would've cost a fortune. Her husband's perfectly tailored linen suit was straight off of Savile Row. When he saw Thurston's tan and white spats, he did a double take. Who in the world wore spats?

Shirley didn't wait for an answer to her question, she just motioned them close. "Our captain is a bit of a devil," she whispered loudly. "He told us last night when we hired him that he had a luxury boat with full amenities. But as you can see, that's not the case."

"But, darling, we _did_ see the turtles. Ten of them," Thurston said, holding up his free hand. " _And_ we had this fine adventure and met these good people."

"I do love a good adventure. Thurston always finds the most exciting activities for our vacations." She glanced back at the inflatable bouncing along in their wake. "But what were you doing so far out here in such a small boat? There's nothing for miles."

"Except turtles," Juliet said in a gentle tone.

It was the first crack he'd seen in her armor since the captain's shout had interrupted them on the beach; she'd kept her distance since they'd boarded the fishing boat. But her inability to look him in the eye bothered him the most.

Maybe he'd misread her. Consumed by the sheer force of wanting her, maybe he'd gone too far.

He made a vow.

Unless she signaled otherwise, going too far too fast wouldn't happen again.

"We were surveying the boundaries of the proposed marine park," Parker said. "Juliet's leading the campaign to make sure it goes through."

Shirley looked at her husband. " _We_ didn't hear anything about a marine park, did we, Thurston?" She marched over to the captain. "You didn't tell us about the marine park, Captain," she said in oddly accented Greek.

"Sheesh," Juliet moaned.

"Double sheesh," Parker said with a wink.

Juliet's smile, as they watched the captain and Shirley banter in a hilarious combination of pidgin English and Greek, felt like the sun coming out from behind a cloud.

From the sound of it, Shirley was well on her way to convincing the blustery captain that he could make more money off tourists than he could off fish. Parker heard her rattle off some statistics that were pretty close to right on. Most of the profitable fish of the Mediterranean had been fished out, Shirley said in a high, imperious tone. It really would be only a matter of time before they'd all be hanging up their nets, she added. Parker had to laugh when she began to tell the captain how to renovate his boat and what colors would be best suited for the tourist trade.

Thurston puffed out his chest and crossed his arms. "She learned Greek online," he said. "She could learn anything she set her mind to. Brilliant, that's what she is. _Damned_ brilliant, if I do say so myself." He turned to Parker. "I've seen you before."

"I have one of those familiar sorts of faces."

Juliet went goggle-eyed. "That's ridiculous. You have the most distinctive face I've ever seen, Parker Tavonesi."

Distinctive. He wasn't sure it was a compliment, but her words and the look she gave him warmed him to his toes.

"Tavonesi, that's it. You rode King's Arms last year. With Aronelli. I was in London for business and caught the match. Damned good riding. You put Prince William to shame, you did. You're a six-goaler?"

Juliet's jaw went slack as Parker nodded.

"You must let me and the wife take you two out to dinner tonight." He elbowed Parker. "It's the least you can do to humor us since we saved your life."

Parker looked to Juliet. She lifted one shoulder in a shrug.

Shirley came tottering back to them. "Our captain is going to help you. He says he'll motor you around whenever you need to look at things. He's stubborn, though. He wouldn't listen when I told him he needs better seats and cushions and that he'll have to put in a refreshment station. But I'm sure he'll come around." She glanced down at Parker's hands. "Oh my. Look, Thurston. This boy has blisters." She touched her fingers to Parker's forearm. "You poor darling. You really should have a martini. It'll take the edge off."

Thurston offered the silver thermos cup again. Parker took it and held it, pondering. He really didn't like to drink in the middle of the day.

"They're having dinner with us tonight," Thurston crowed. "This boy won at King's Arms practically single-handedly last year." He winked at his wife. "Dinner with polo royalty. Wait till I tell our son; he's mad about polo." He pivoted, nearly knocking Juliet into the railing. "Darn fine man you have here, young lady. Darn fine."

Juliet opened her mouth as if she was about to explain their situation, but then she clamped her lips in a line and nodded. But she didn't look at Parker.

Parker drained the silver cup of icy gin in three swallows.

In a single morning he'd managed to rough up his polo hand, meet the kookiest couple he'd ever met and alienate the one woman who lit him from the inside out.

He shook his head and smiled at the lot of them. He wouldn't trade any of the day's experiences for the world.

Now that he knew Juliet's taste, the memory would probably taunt him for the rest of his days. For the few brief moments that he'd held her, kissed her, pleasured her, he'd felt more alive than at any time he could remember.

The web of desire that had pulsed in him since the _Sommelier_ shoot, drawing him to her and holding him captive, now felt more like a path of strands he could follow into the future.

What lay ahead, he didn't know. But he'd be keeping her safe, even if she was bullheaded enough not to want his full-on help. The calls he'd made that morning had already set his plans in motion. And if she judged his behind-the-scenes help underhanded? That was a risk he'd have to take.

# Chapter Fifteen

Juliet waved the crumpled paper with the address of the Baxters' rented villa. "I can't believe you agreed to this dinner plan."

"Anything for the cause."

"Where's your SUV?"

"Change in plans." He stepped to a yellow Jeep convertible parked outside the Oceana office and held the passenger door open for her. "Your carriage awaits."

She tapped the dashboard. "How'd you get this delivered?"

"I have my methods."

"I don't like that glint in your eye, Parker."

"Glint?" He laughed as he sat in the driver's seat and adjusted the rearview mirror. "Manifesting a Jeep convertible is worth way more than a mere glint, even if it did take over a week to arrive."

"Be serious."

"You can rent anything with the right phone numbers and money," he said. He glanced at his watch. "Four hours until we undergo trial by Baxter. Do you still want to meet with Markos?"

"Top of my list."

"And what else might be on that list?"

"A visit to Doria. I want to thank her for her effort at the party."

"Consider it done."

He really did seem thrilled with the Jeep.

"What is it about men that makes it possible for something as simple as a vehicle to cheer you up?"

"If I told you that, I'd have to kill you."

He must've heard her sharp intake of breath.

"God, Juliet, I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking."

"Wait... I think I just felt the earth stop turning."

"Pardon?"

"That you would admit to a moment when you weren't thinking, Parker."

He lowered his sunglasses and turned to her. "There have been a few moments today when I wasn't thinking," he said in a somber tone.

She couldn't miss the message under his words. But was he apologizing? Regretting? That would be mortifying. But didn't she have regrets of her own? Hers were that she'd started down a path that she now had to step firmly away from. His? She didn't want to think about regrets he might have.

"Take the next right," she said, glad for the necessity to give directions and leave their conversation behind.

He tapped on the steering wheel. "We will talk about the empty gas tank, Juliet. Now or later."

"I might've picked up the wrong tank."

"You do weights and measures and observations for a living. Why try to fool me?"

"I don't want you worrying."

"I never worry," he said bluntly. "Waste of time. You know what Yoda says— _do or don't do._ Action's way better than worry."

"Exactly what I'm afraid of. That you'll keep hovering and I'll start second-guessing myself. No, that I'll _keep_ second-guessing myself. You already have me doing that, Parker. I hate it."

"You might need a second opinion on some of your plans. Draining your tank when you weren't looking was a sophisticated maneuver. It took planning. And it means that whoever did it is watching you closely. Too closely."

"You know, that's not actually what Yoda said, Parker. He said, _Do. Or do not. There is no try._ I don't want you _trying_ to fix everything. You helped, and the party went off well. And I _am_ grateful. So grateful. But now I need you to leave the rest of it up to me."

He nodded, turned to her again and lowered his glasses in that way that said he didn't want any miscommunication between them. "Oh, the rest of it _is_ up to you, Juliet." He narrowed his eyes. "More than I want to admit."

Had she won? Was that a concession? But the look in his eyes before he turned back to the road had her wondering exactly what he'd meant.

They pulled up in front of Markos's house. Built from the same stone as Doria's, the structure looked such a part of the landscape that it was nearly camouflaged. The olive trees hugged close, but as they walked around to the front door, the view opened up and stretched out beyond a strip of beach to a vast horizon of sparkling sea.

"His beachfront is actually more heavily nested than even Doria's," Juliet said.

"Then we'll have to be very persuasive. The turtles are counting on us."

_Us_.

Her message wasn't getting through.

She gave two sharp raps to the wood door.

"Well, if it isn't the dynamic duo," Markos said as he opened the door. He looked to Parker. "I understand _you_ convinced Cameron Kelley to come to Zantos?"

"Guilty, but only partially. Cameron has a deep love for sea turtles. And healthy habitats."

"I do too. But I also know that turtles won't pay for my grandkids to go to university. Or buy my son and his wife a house." Markos swept his arm toward his darkened hallway. "Would you like to come in?"

He ushered them into a living area with windows looking out to the beach beyond. He didn't invite them to sit. And though he nodded as Juliet carefully laid out the case for the marine park, his rigid stance was a clear message that her words didn't land on fertile ground.

Ten minutes later she and Parker were on their way to Doria's.

"Now you see why goodwill won't be enough," Juliet said. "Or education. Markos will sell. And if the regulations aren't in place before he sells, the buyers can do as they damned well please."

The Jeep hit a rut, and she grabbed for the roll bar.

"At least you don't hit your head in this new rig of yours."

He flashed the grin that she both dreaded and loved. "There are so many joys to this baby, I can't begin to count them."

She couldn't help but laugh.

No one was home at Doria's. Juliet left a note saying she'd come back the next day around noon.

"I'd like to walk the beach, get a feel for it," Parker said. "That is, if we wouldn't be disrupting anything fragile?"

"No problem—it's low tide, so we'll be well away from nesting areas farther up toward the dunes. You see, that's part of the educational effort. If people understand that they can walk at low tide when they are easily away from any nests, that the beach isn't cut off forever, they might be more in favor of the park and sign our petition."

They walked along the beach. She was careful not to touch him. He kept looking at her, as if searching for a message. They hadn't spoken about their erotic connection on the island, and she wasn't going to send any encouragement his way. It was bad enough that she'd succumbed to her crazy physical attraction to him. Thank goodness for the batty Baxters. With desire and her better instincts fighting battles inside her, dinner alone with Parker would've been a private hell.

After a surreal dinner at Shirley and Thurston Baxter's palatial rented villa, Juliet rebuffed Parker's insistence that she get a room in the hotel. He had already quashed her plan to spend the night at Andreas's bungalow, so they returned to her cottage. Since Parker dug in and refused to leave, she had mercy on him and gave him a quilt and a pillow and told him he could sleep on her floor.

She shut the door between her bedroom and living area. And leaned against it, listening. Though he'd laughed at the quirky couple's antics earlier, she'd noticed signs of exhaustion around his eyes during their prolonged dinner with the Baxters. It wasn't quite ten, but after his exertion earlier in the day, maybe he'd fall into a deep sleep.

She tried to read. But the sounds of him rustling around in her living room distracted her; she scanned the same paragraph four times. She reviewed the day in her mind, reviewed the facts. It was always best to have the facts well examined. But the facts didn't bring her any peace.

She craved Parker's touch.

Craved to reach into the fire he'd stoked, even if it might burn. Craved the memory of his chest glistening with sweat from his rowing, his kisses, the powerful pleasure that he'd coaxed from her in spite of the chatter of her mind telling her to stop him. To stop herself. The memories wouldn't leave her. They just played again and again.

But she didn't have to act on them.

Wasn't that the difference between wise and not so wise, checking one's actions before they could lead to trouble or disaster?

She gave up trying to read, stripped off her clothes and climbed into bed. The moonlight filtered through her curtains as she tossed for hours, unable to sleep. Only a thin door and a weak lock separated her from the man who'd managed to turn her inside out in less than two weeks.

Maybe she could just have sex with Parker. Would a session of passion clear the tangle of want that clouded her mind and entrapped her body?

The shiver that zipped through her shocked her back to reality. Any more physical contact, any more stoking of her wishes and fantasies, would just tether her to the straining cord of want that wouldn't go slack when he moved on.

Zuri had warned her.

And she hadn't listened.

Well, she'd listened. Her brain had heard the words, registered them and deemed her safe. But her brain hadn't taken into account the full picture of Parker's appeal. The battle she was fighting had little to do with her brain.

_Stupid_.

That was what she was. Really, really stupid.

Weren't there shelves and shelves and shelves of accounts in the self-help sections of bookstores about women just like her? Women who let their desire overwhelm their judgment, let it lead them into heartbreak or worse?

How the _hell_ had she let Parker into her heart?

Worse, he'd touched her soul.

It was as if he'd arrived in a boat of glowing light that had blinded her, and before she could mount an effective defense, he'd landed unchallenged on her inner shore.

She should never have done the _Sommelier_ shoot.

She tugged the sheet up to her chin and wrapped it tight around her body.

Tomorrow the torture would end.

Tomorrow she'd send him on his way.

# Chapter Sixteen

The sound of rattling pots and running water pulled Juliet from a dark dream. She'd been rowing a small boat in raging seas, thunder booming and lightning striking at the water all around her. Crashing waves threatened to swamp her boat and send her headlong into the dark sea.

She put her hands to her eyes and rubbed the sleep from them, wishing she could just as easily dissolve the heaviness the dream had left as its parting gift.

Another loud crash from her kitchen had her leaping out of bed.

What day was it? And who was in her kitchen?

And then she remembered.

_Parker_.

She pulled on her shorts and a T-shirt. In her bathroom she ran the shower, cupping her hands under the flow to get enough water to wash out her mouth. A glance at the tiny clock near the mirror told her there was no time for a shower. She'd send Parker on his way and then take care of the critical tasks on her to-do list for the campaign.

Her hand went still after she wrapped her fingers around the knob on her bedroom door. Hauling in a deep breath, she pushed it open.

And was completely unprepared for what she saw.

Flowers filled her cottage. Two vases of wildflowers were centered on her table. Tulips were perched next to her kitchen sink, and cabbage roses brimmed from glass jars on her windowsills.

Parker stood next to her two-burner stove, his wide grin crinkling the corners of his eyes.

"Thought we needed to banish the spell of those wicked daisies," he said. "Not that the daisies themselves were evil, but... Well, establishing a countervailing energy was in order, don't you think?"

She blinked. Once. Twice. She wasn't dreaming.

He handed her a mug of steaming tea. "Wasn't sure what you like in your tea."

She was aware of him watching her face. She couldn't guess what he read there, as her emotions were tumbling over each other like circus acrobats caught up in a tornado.

She took the mug of tea.

"Thank you." She didn't trust herself with any other words.

"My pleasure." He busied himself at the stove. "I made an omelet. Bit rough around the edges, but the eggs are fresh—laid just this morning, if you can believe the old lady who sold them to me at the market."

At the sound of tires in her driveway, her fingers stiffened around the mug. Parker's observations had succeeded in making her feel paranoid, that was for sure. And feel a hundred other sensations she'd best shove down to only be remembered some day far in the future.

She looked out her open door. A massive RV climbed the last ten yards of her drive and stopped in front of her cottage.

Parker frowned. "They're early." He pulled the pan off the burner and then whipped the towel from where he'd tucked it into the front of his jeans and tossed it onto the counter. "I'll just be a minute," he said over his shoulder as he dashed out the door.

Juliet squeezed her eyes shut and held them shut hard. When she opened them, the RV was still there.

Parker stood in her driveway discussing something with the driver. A car pulled up to the right of the massive rig, spreading dust in its wake. Parker handed the driver of the RV what looked like a wad of euros, and the man jumped into the waiting car.

Juliet ran out onto her porch in time to see the car turn and head down the hill.

Was that a swagger she saw in Parker's step as he walked toward her?

Definitely a swagger.

She pointed. " _That_ is not staying here."

"I can't sleep on your floor, Juliet. My personal trainer would have my head." He turned sideways and slid his thumb up to the middle of his back, his biceps flexing as he reached for a spot below his shoulder blades. "He's worked hard to get the kinks out. Polo is tough on the body."

"Apparently it also fogs the brain." But it was her brain getting foggy. She had a weakness for athletic men, for their excellence and their honed bodies. But Parker was in a class all his own, one that tested her best resolve. "You're leaving today, Parker."

He didn't respond. Just pivoted, smiled and swaggered back into her cottage.

She followed. "I'm serious." Even to her ears, her command didn't sound convincing.

He slid a perfect omelet onto a plate and handed it to her. "I'm not leaving, so you might as well decide how you can best put me to work. You know what they say—busy bodies keep busy minds from imagining what even busier bodies could do."

The laugh that stuttered out of her refused her attempt to hold it back. " _Who_ says that?" She tried to wipe the grin off, but it stayed, stubborn and uncaring for her plans to send a cooler message.

"I'm not sure. Maybe just me." He studied her face for a moment. "You should laugh more. It's a beautiful sound."

"Do all Tavonesis have as much trouble taking no for an answer?"

"Genetic flaw. In the fifth gene sequence."

He was staying. It wasn't like she could tie him up and drag him off the island. But she didn't trust the small voice whooping its delight and crowding out the louder refrains of her better judgment.

He grabbed the teapot from the counter and gestured to her cup. She nodded, and he poured it full to the brim.

Her fingers trembled as she cut a bite of the omelet and forked it into her mouth. The light-textured eggs were perfectly seasoned, and her stomach growled its pleasure.

"I'll clean up here while you eat. You don't eat enough, Juliet."

A mouthful of delicious omelet was her excuse for biting back any protest.

With swift moves, he had her little kitchen spotless by the time she cleaned her plate. Was there anything the man did badly?

He took the plate she handed him and dropped it into the sink. "Want to see my castle?"

"I've seen the inside of RVs before."

"Not this one. Meet me out front in"—he checked his watch—"fifteen minutes."

"On the dot?" She couldn't resist teasing him about his punctuality.

"No other way."

She nearly tripped over two of his four huge bags as she entered. The others were leaned up against the driver's seat at the front of the huge rig.

"Sorry. I managed to get the driver to pick up my things at the hotel, but he clearly has no sense of spatial relations. At least he brought the rest of the flowers."

He pulled a paper bundle from a box in the center of the table next to the narrow kitchen counter. "Calla lilies, freesia and irises." He knit his brows. "But they forgot the roses." He huffed out a breath. "No matter, we can make do with these." He sniffed. "These RVs always have that stale scent, don't you think?"

All she could smell were the bundles of colored freesias and the scent that was distinctly him. Like lemons and some exotic spice, frankincense or... The name of the other spice escaped her as he held out a bundle of freesias and unwrapped a cobalt-blue vase that he pulled from the box.

And as if someone had flipped a switch, Parker morphed into manic decorator mode.

He unzipped the largest suitcase. "A designer friend of mine once told me he never travels anywhere without his own fabrics." He pulled out an armful of gorgeous woven cloths. "He said you can transform even the most plebeian hotel room into a palace with a few well-placed fabrics."

She watched, speechless, as he tossed a cloth over the sofa that filled one side of the RV and then shook out another and spread it across the table. He stepped back, put a hand to his chin, shook his head and swapped them out.

"Better, don't you think?" he asked as he stepped back.

"Seriously?"

"Well, yes. If I'm living in this rig for the foreseeable future, I want it just right. Maybe the gold and red cloth for the bed?"

She didn't want to think about the bed. But he opened the door at the back of the RV and motioned her to the small room beyond.

"Red and gold are rather heraldic for a bedroom," she said, feeling ridiculous and jittery. Standing this close to him, her body hummed its response.

He nodded. "You're right." He dragged open a curtain to reveal a large picture window that looked out to the ocean. "Maybe the Provençal cloth instead?"

"Is that a question?"

He pondered the cloth in his hands before spreading it on the queen-size bed. "Better. These colors have more of a Mediterranean feel to them."

She leaned to look out the window just as he whirled around. She stumbled, and he caught her.

For a moment that seemed to last an eternity, they stared into each other's eyes. And before she could blink or wiggle away or come up with any good reason not to, she met the kiss he planted on her lips with a hunger that scared her far more than any threat ever could.

The switch that had been flipped was hers. She tore at his shirt and pulled it over his head. And dove back to his mouth as if her life depended on connecting to him. Her hands mapped the planes of his chest. She knew she was panting, that her breath was ragged; his was too. Her heart beat so loudly she thought it might reverberate off the walls of the RV. Below her roving fingers, his pulse pounded in his throat. He dragged her T-shirt up, and she broke off their kiss to let him pull it over her head.

Bending at the waist, she undid the buttons of his jeans and pushed them down his hips. He clasped his fingers to her shoulders as if to stop her but she resisted and pulled his boxer shorts down his thighs. His erection, thick and long and hard, sprang free in the space between them. She closed her hand around his shaft and touched her mouth to the silken tip, tasting the bead of saltiness. He moaned and grasped her shoulders, renewing his attempt to pull her up and away. She resisted. He wasn't going to pull his _I'm just going to pleasure you, darlin'_ stunt again, not this time. This time she would touch and taste.

She closed her other hand around his shaft and relished the way he hardened even more under her touch. But before she could take him fully into her mouth, he slid his hands under her arms and lifted her, pressing her away from him.

"Juliet, I didn't come here to complicate your life."

"Then I'd say you have failed in your mission, Parker." Steadying herself against him, she kicked off her shorts and panties. He stilled. She raised her hand to her mouth and licked her palm and then circled her wet hand around his erection. He groaned and tumbled her onto the bed. He kicked off his jeans and bent over her on the bed.

She would remember the blaze of his mouth as he trailed kisses down her throat and the bite of his teeth against her nipple, she told herself. She wouldn't forget the feel of his palm against her belly as he lowered his hand to perfectly stroke her and shoot her into a spasm of exploding ecstasy. She would remember—she had to. Because she'd allow herself only this one time with him. One mind-blowing, all-in experience that would clear her of her obsession with him and let her get on with her work. Get on with her life.

He pressed up above her, his chest muscles rippling at eye level.

"Tell me you want this, Juliet. Tell me now, because I won't be able to hold off later."

She nodded, her voice a mere hum of yes. He retrieved a condom from his jeans and her heart thrummed as he slid it over his erection.

He pressed against her entrance, still hovering.

"You're sure?"

"Parker."

He eased into her with a growl. And then he thrust slowly. It was her turn to growl.

And as the world fell away, she wasn't so sure her resolve would hold.

But it had to.

She wasn't going to mope around wishing for a man who had gone back off into the horizon of his life, back to the world she had no part of, a world that didn't include anything of her life goals and plans. She wouldn't pine but she would carry the memories with her.

"You're thinking," he said. He thrust against the mysterious place inside her with a power that obliterated thought, and a spiking sensation ignited fire in her veins, blanking her mind. She bucked against his hips, screaming his name.

"That's better." He quickened his thrusts. She fisted the woven cloth under her as her head thrashed, thrashed, thrashed with pleasure, and she trembled with shock, joy and release.

"Much better," he said when a guttural cry escaped her.

He stilled and lifted onto his forearms. A bead of his sweat dropped onto her lips. He smiled as he whispered her name, then he bent and met her lips, his thrusts rocking her into a world she knew she'd wish she never had to leave.

# Chapter Seventeen

The sound of a door woke Juliet. She sat up, disoriented. And then she recognized the wood paneling of the RV. And the bed. Parker's bed.

"You slept," Parker said with a casual, smooth tone as he leaned on the doorframe.

She felt anything but casual. Squinting, she tried to shut out the bright light lancing into the room. And the mortification creeping into her belly. She'd had sex with Parker Tavonesi and then fallen _asleep_?

"I didn't want to wake you to open the window, but it's getting beastly hot in this little bedroom."

The heat she felt coursing in her body wasn't from the sunshine pouring in the window. She scrunched the blue and yellow bedspread to her chest, suddenly aware that she was naked and he had donned his jeans. Bare-chested and smiling, with a sultry expression in his eyes, he looked like a living god stepped down from the heavens.

"What time is it?" she asked, fisting the cloth to her collarbone and scooting up the mattress until her back hit the headboard.

"Half past ten."

He edged past the bed and slid the window open. A cool breeze swept in, lifting the hairs at the nape of her neck. Without missing a beat, he plucked the condom wrapper off the bed and tucked it into the front pocket of his jeans.

Maybe he had casual sex all the time, but sex had never felt casual to her. And sex with him had rocked her world. Jittering panic roiled in her belly. She'd crossed the very line she'd known she shouldn't cross.

He dropped onto the edge of the bed. She held her breath. If he touched her, she was sure she would shatter. Or wrap herself around him and never let go.

"You okay?"

At the gentle sound of his voice, tears welled, threatening. She tugged the cloth higher.

"Fine." Her urge to cry baffled her.

He raised a brow.

"No, really, I'm fine," she added. "Great. But I need to..." She needed to do what? Undo what she'd just done? Not possible. But she needed to get her feet under her. Shake off the spell of their erotic encounter. She straightened her shoulders and pressed them against the headboard. "I have things I need to do. All sorts of things," she added, hating hearing herself babble. "I'm late already. I need to—"

"Hey." He wrapped his fingers around her ankle. "I'm here to help, remember?"

She pulled her leg free of his touch and tucked it up under her.

"Don't you ever let anyone help _you_?" The question was the first that popped into her mind. She would've said anything at that moment to put distance between them.

His eyes clouded. "I have... _issues_ about accepting help."

"And pleasure." Adrenaline pinged in her chest. Why the devil had she said that? But it was true. He'd seemed almost rigid about being in control both times they'd crossed into sexual territory.

A smile tipped up the corners of his lips. Lips that had brought her pleasure beyond any she'd ever imagined possible.

"No, no troubles accepting pleasure. But I am pretty lousy at taking advice," he added as his smile faded.

Something raw edged his gaze, something sad. And whatever suffering lay behind his words just tugged her deeper into his orbit.

She needed to get out of the bed. Get her clothes. Get on with the list of tasks ahead. Get her head back on straight, as she'd sworn she would.

"Then you probably won't listen when I advise you that I need you to give me some space to dress and get on with my day." She waved her hand in the coolest, most dismissive gesture she could manage.

He narrowed his eyes. Then stood and gave a bow. "Your wish is my command."

When she heard the door to the RV close, she took a breath as she unwound the brightly colored bedspread from her fists. She'd just done exactly what she'd known she shouldn't. In. His. Bed.

Her T-shirt lay in a crumpled ball on the floor. Yanking it over her head, she cursed. How could one morning, and the best session of sex of her life, be both blissful and bone-rattlingly scary at the same time?

But deep down she'd known that mixing her heart and body up with Parker would shake her.

That she'd pay.

Crossing her arms, she hugged her chest and let her breath out in a shaky stream. Then she hauled in another breath and stared at the bed.

She should've listened to the voice telling her not to cross the line, not to drop any deeper into the vortex of feelings that he aroused in her.

But she _had_ dropped. And had fallen deep and hard and fast, like Alice tumbling through the looking glass into an ominous world of awe and fear.

And now she needed to crawl back out, no matter how much the climb back to her normal life would hurt. Pulling her shoulder blades down her back, she straightened her spine. Ignoring his allure was the only sensible way forward.

But ignoring the desire he aroused would've been a hell of a lot easier if he were thousands of miles away. She grabbed her shorts and panties from the floor and cooked up a plan as she slid them up her legs.

She'd drag him around with her for a day or two of the most boring campaign tasks. He'd tire of the tedium and leave. Go back to his exciting life.

And she could try to pretend her heart and body and soul hadn't been rocked to the core.

Parker straightened the calla lilies in the vase on Juliet's table. He turned the vase so that the shaft of sunlight pouring in through her kitchen window would strike the bright white blooms. He stepped back, moved the vase a couple inches to the right. And whispered a blistering curse.

He should've let her make the first move. But she'd met his kiss and deepened it. Their sex had been consensual. She'd orgasmed more times than he needed to count. And he'd had the best orgasm of his life.

So why did he feel so blasted lousy?

He batted away the thought circling in his mind. But it rose again as he fiddled with the vase of freesias on her windowsill.

Her cool dismissal couldn't have been any clearer: she regretted having sex with him.

Another thought hovered and then landed like an elephant in a teacup.

He loved Juliet. Had started falling for her at the ranch three months ago and had completed the fall there in Greece.

Dragging a hand through his hair, he cursed again. He'd thought he'd loved Rachael, but now he knew better. He hadn't known the half of what loving a woman felt like. What it made him want to do for her. Not back then. But he sure as hell knew now.

Hadn't he once told his cousin Zoe that love didn't care about the lovers' plans and preferences? That it sliced open the very places that needed to be opened and exposed, like it or not?

And the woman responsible for this painful E ticket journey into his heart had just summarily booted him out of his own bedroom.

Served him right.

He'd come here to help her, not get in the way. Certainly not to add to her problems. Zuri had told him that Juliet didn't want the complications of a man in her life. How many times did he have to remind himself of that fact?

Maybe he wasn't so very different from the quack who had nearly killed his mother with his lies and potions. Maybe it was much easier than he'd imagined to allow desire to drive a man toward its all-consuming end, leaving morals and good intentions behind.

His knuckles were white where he gripped the edge of the windowsill before he reminded himself that he wasn't that quack. He'd never allow himself to lose control and let his impulses drive him to harm another person.

He'd help Juliet succeed in her campaign, and he'd keep her safe. It was the least he could do for screwing up. They'd get the signatures, wrap up the marine park campaign, and he'd head back to California. End of story.

_Right_.

And all he had to do was ignore the strongest connection to a woman, to any person, he'd ever felt. Pretend that he didn't want to explore the feelings and dreams she stirred in him. And make sure that his already torturous feelings didn't muck up his ability to think, resulting in bad decisions.

How the hell was he going to do that?

He'd keep crazy busy. In addition to taking on every campaign task she could throw at him, he could return calls and write emails and make plans for his vineyard. Get a jump-start on the marketing campaign for his next vintage.

Yeah.

Like that was going to work.

What a hell of an irony. He'd been keeping busy since Rachael so he could forget about love. Now he was going to work himself into a frenzy so he could ignore it.

He smacked his hand hard against the windowsill, allowing the pain to register in his mind.

"That looked painful," Juliet said as she breezed into the cottage with a smile on her face.

He hated those sorts of smiles, the sort that hid the truth. But he had no right to her truths.

And he was pretty damned sure she wouldn't want to hear his.

"I was just thinking through some plans for my vineyard," he said. The evasive statement wasn't a total lie.

She took a glass from her counter and filled it with water from the faucet. "I thought I'd go speak with Doria."

Though she might have been trying to hide it, her fingers trembled against the glass. And he couldn't miss how she seemed intent on keeping a good distance from him. But he couldn't let her desire for distance get in the way of what he'd vowed to accomplish.

"I'm coming with you."

She sipped the water and looked at him over the rim of the glass. "For goodness' sake, Parker, you don't have to be with me every moment. I'm sure you have business of your own to take care of."

Not enough.

He strode to her and gripped her shoulders. "Let's get one thing clear. I am not leaving here until you know that your campaign is on its way to succeeding. And until we identify the source of the threats and stop them, I will be by your side. You can make this easy, or you can make this hard. And if you're worried about what happened in there"—he jerked his head toward the RV—"I guarantee it won't happen again."

Her face stilled. She tilted her head and lowered her eyes to her shoulder. Where his hand was biting into her flesh.

"Sorry." He lifted his hands and dropped them to his sides.

She rubbed at her shoulders. "Then I guess you'll be heading over to Doria's with me. Give me ten. I have some emails to send."

Still clutching the glass of water, she went into her bedroom and shut the door.

The click of the door closing might as well have been a stake driven into his heart. As he stood there considering his next move, an idea formed in his mind.

Even if Juliet and her team couldn't get Prime Minister Kantakos to take a meeting, he might be able to. He had a trump card he could play. But it would take him away from her for two, maybe three days. Good for distance, not good for ensuring her safety. So he'd have to implement plan B.

Normally Parker would've enjoyed Juliet's descriptions of island geography and landmarks as he drove her up to Doria's, but he knew her nonstop monologue for what it was: a distancing mechanism. A smoke screen. And he thanked the heavens for her clever strategy. He would've been hard-pressed to fill the pulsing space between them with any sensible words.

He parked the Jeep in front of the stone farmhouse and set the brake. Loud music met them as they approached Doria's house.

Juliet knocked.

No answer.

"Maybe they can't hear over the music." She knocked again, and after about a minute, Doria's son, Pavlos, answered the door.

"Hello, Pavlos. We came to see your mother." Juliet held out a bouquet of freesias. "I brought her some flowers."

"Those are lovely," Pavlos said, taking the flowers into his hands but not looking Juliet or Parker in the eye. "But she's gone away for a while. To the mainland."

"I'd like to speak with her," Juliet said. "Did she leave a number where she can be reached?"

"No." He gestured toward the door with the bouquet. "She's traveling with a cousin. I think they plan to visit the ruins at Delphi."

"Would you let her know we stopped by? And if she calls you, would you ask her to give me a call?"

"Sure. No worries." He untangled the streamer of the ribbon that had caught in the beaded bracelet at his wrist and pressed the flowers toward Juliet. "You should keep these."

"But they're for your mother."

He drew the flowers back, holding them as though they were laced with poison.

The music ramped up in the background as Parker walked with Juliet back to the Jeep.

"He's a strange one," she said as she strapped on her seat belt.

Parker started the engine. "He's lying."

"Why do you say that?"

"He knows where she is."

"Maybe not. If she's traveling—"

"If Doria is traveling with a cousin, I'll eat this Jeep."

"Why would he lie?"

"Ask me tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?"

"Give me a day, maybe two. And I should be able to paint a pretty clear profile of Pavlos Vardakastani."

When they reached the Oceana office, Andreas rushed out to meet them.

"Markos has agreed to sell his place. Eleni overheard the investors while she was changing out towels in the hotel room. They're in the process of drawing up the papers."

Juliet put a hand to his arm. "These things take time, Andreas. More than a couple of weeks."

"But I have worse news—Doria's selling too."

Juliet shook her head. "She can't be. She's not even home. We just came from her place."

"Well, Nikos told me her son has her power of attorney, and he's selling."

Juliet's brave smile wavered. "How many signatures do we have?"

"A hundred and seven."

"How many did Kantakos's office say you needed to get a meeting?" Parker asked.

"Three hundred," Juliet answered. "And we need both Doria and Markos to sign on since they are the landowners most impacted by the marine park. I thought we had them both. Well, maybe not Markos, not yet, but..." She stared out at the bay for a moment and then snapped her gaze back. "We'll just have to double our efforts. Andreas, pull all the volunteers off the beach restoration; we can brief them tonight, and they can go door to door for the next few days. If we get close to the number Kantakos's bureaucrats are demanding, I'm sure we can get them to schedule a meeting."

Parker doubted that would happen, but there was no need to tell Juliet of his misgivings. He had a far better plan in mind, one that only he could implement. And it wouldn't require volunteers or signatures.

Andreas rubbed at his jaw. "But what about the fact that we need Markos and Doria?"

"Let me deal with them," she said. "You focus on training the volunteers. And let's hit all the tavernas along the coast."

"That sounds like a job I'd like." Andreas grinned.

"This is no time to joke."

The smile slid off Andreas's face.

She pressed her lips together and shook her head, tapped her arm to Andreas's sleeve. "I'm sorry. Maybe it _is_ a good time to joke. I'm afraid your news has affected my sense of humor. Do whatever you think will work. I have faith in you."

She turned to Parker. "I need a couple of hours to download the data for the door-to-door campaign. I promise I won't leave the office."

Andreas shot a questioning glance to Parker.

Parker nodded. "I'll hold you to that promise."

An hour later, Parker had booked a flight to Rome. He'd spoken with his Uncle Santino and hired and briefed the reliable bodyguard Santino had located. The man would arrive on the next flight from Athens. Parker said another silent prayer that the airline hadn't gone back on strike. Buses and ferries would just slow him down. The clock was ticking, and he had to hustle if he was to be of any help in getting Juliet in front of Prime Minister Kantakos.

He called Andreas's cell and asked him to take Juliet to dinner and then to keep her at the office for the meeting with the volunteers. And then to drive her straight home.

He stopped at a café in the town square for a coffee. His cell rang just as he sat down at a table in the shade. It was a number he didn't recognize.

"Mr. Tavonesi?"

"Yes."

"It's Fabia. Fabia Nevrakou."

"What can I do for you, Ms. Nevrakou?"

"Can we meet? I'd rather talk with you in person."

Whatever she had to say, he wanted to hear it.

"I'm at a café in the town square. The one with the mermaid out front."

"I can be there in five minutes," she said.

Before he could confirm, the call clicked off.

The clatter of heels on cobblestones a few minutes later announced her arrival. She must've been very close by.

"Thank you for meeting with me."

He took the hand she offered, felt the coolness of her palm. "It was no problem." He let silence stretch between them.

"Yes, well, I think you know the dire economic conditions that Greece is facing these days," she said in a calm, clear tone as she sat in the chair opposite him.

"I'm aware, yes."

"Such conditions mean that it's a terrible time for Juliet and the Oceana team to be attempting to push the marine park."

"The people of Zantos seem to think otherwise."

She looked over her shoulder and then leaned forward. "Don't be fooled," she said in a soft voice. "There are many powerful interests involved, many who want development to go forward. If she were my girlfriend," she added, "I would warn her. I admire her passion for her work, but passion can be a blinding force, don't you think?"

_Girlfriend_. Juliet was so much more than the word implied. And as of that morning—and her brusque dismissal after they'd had sex—so much less. No, he couldn't claim she wanted to be anywhere close to girlfriend territory. And Fabia was right about the power of passion. His growing passion for Juliet drove him with a force that shocked him. But he was barely admitting that fact to himself and certainly wasn't going to discuss his feelings with a stranger.

Fabia fiddled with the napkin he'd left crumpled on the table. The blue and yellow beads of her bracelet clicked against the steel top of the small café table.

"There are many on this island who don't want to let an idealistic American and a bunch of turtles stand in their way. I like Juliet. And I have heard of the threats to her. You should take her away from here. When things cool down, she could come back and—"

"The campaign can't be put on hold. There's a declaration possibility looming."

"That declaration is not likely to happen. It's an election year. I'm from Athens, and I know how slow our politicians can move if there's any controversy. She is risking herself for an impossible goal."

"I have no control over Juliet. She's a professional devoted to her work."

Fabia sat back, taking in his words, her face placid. Her phone pinged, and she pulled it from the pocket of her cardigan. Her face flushed as she glanced at the screen.

"I have to go. Nikos wants me to see this little hunting cabin he has in the hills above the bay. He's so nostalgic for the old Greece, the Greece of his childhood. Having grown up in Athens and then London, I don't have such memories."

She fiddled with the beads of her bracelet. An image of another object featuring those same colors fired in his mind but he couldn't hold on to the fleeting vision.

"Nostalgia can keep a person from seeing the present clearly," Fabia added. "Not being sentimentally bound to the past makes it easier to embrace the future, don't you think?"

"Perhaps," Parker said noncommittally. Nikos didn't strike him as a nostalgic man.

She unfolded her long legs from the chair and smoothed her skirt. "Thank you for taking the time to speak with me. I wouldn't have slept well if I hadn't shared my feelings with you."

His eyes followed Fabia as she made her way toward the harbor, expertly navigating the rough cobblestones in her spike heels. She was an enigma. Telling the truth took a certain kind of guts that he hadn't expected from her; he appreciated her frankness. And her warning about the political climate in Athens. Was Prime Minister Kantakos more coward than visionary?

If so, his mission the next morning would be more challenging than he'd considered. But at least he was forewarned.

An hour later Parker met the bodyguard at the airport. Christos wasn't a bulky man, but he was well muscled and appeared as strong as Santino had reported. But it wasn't just Christos's brawn that Parker needed. The man was a savvy former intelligence operative. He knew tech. And he already had a full dossier—including photos—of Juliet, compliments of Santino.

While they waited for Christos's luggage, Parker briefed him and gave him the keys to the Jeep. "Park the Jeep in Juliet's driveway for her. There's a rental place down the road from her place where I arranged a car for you to pick up."

Half an hour later Parker boarded the flight that would connect in Athens and get him to Rome by midnight. While he waited in the Athens airport, he wrote an email to Juliet. It mirrored her first email to him, brief and purposely vague.

But he couldn't lay out his plan.

Not yet. Not until he was sure it would succeed. Dashed hopes were more detrimental than daunting challenges. He scheduled the email for delivery at midnight. And hoped that Christos was every inch the agent Santino had made him out to be.

Leaving Juliet forced a battle in him he'd barely won. But if he accomplished what he planned, the results would speed the marine park campaign and get her off the damned island sooner. He had no idea where her next assignment would be. But it couldn't be as dangerous as her mission in Zantos.

# Chapter Eighteen

Juliet woke an hour before dawn. She parted the lace curtains and peered out her cottage window. Parker's Jeep was in the drive next to the RV. He must have returned late in the night.

She debated knocking on the RV door and then thought better of it. Wherever he'd gone the night before, and whatever or whomever he'd found to amuse himself, wasn't any of her business. She'd wanted some space and gotten it. Apparently her message had been clearer than she'd realized.

She made tea and sat on her back terrace. Antsy, she pulled out her violin, tuned it and played a favorite concerto by Mozart. But even that didn't settle her nerves.

No one would be up at Oceana yet. The meeting the night before had gone well, better than she'd hoped. The volunteers were fired up. She planned to hit the streets with them as soon as she waded through some of the paperwork and bank transfers.

She poured a second cup of tea and paced in her living space. Walked to the sink, around the dining table and back again.

Best to get on with her work. She opened her computer and read Parker's email.

He'd gone off?

After making profuse promises to help?

And after practically threatening to stay glued to her side?

She should have never, never had sex with him. If she hadn't, he might still be there to help.

But then, hadn't she wanted him gone?

She snorted at the irony.

When he was with her, she wanted him gone. When he was gone, all she could think about was having him near. Dealing with her feelings was a battle either way.

Worse, she had mixed feelings about him saying he was going to return. And she wasn't sure she believed him. Plus, what had he said about seeking information about Pavlos? Maybe that was what had pulled him away for a couple of days.

She tried calling Doria, but got no answer. As she clicked off her cellphone, she noticed the keys to the Jeep on the table. And a note.

Use the Jeep while I'm gone. It's safer.

Safer? Safer than what?

And how had that note mysteriously appeared?

She hadn't seen it before she'd gone to bed. But she'd been so torqued about him disappearing, and so tired from the long meeting to brief and train the volunteers, that she'd fallen asleep with her clothes on. Maybe she just hadn't noticed.

She ran out to the RV. His suitcases were gone, along with all signs of him save for his intoxicating scent, which hung in the air like some kind of cruel tease.

Lowering herself to the steps of the RV, she put her head in her hands and pressed her palms to her eyes.

She had a job to do. The future of thousands of beings, human and marine, depended on her ability to pull her act together.

After another minute of self-pity, she stood, brushed off her shorts, squared her shoulders and marched into her cottage.

They would succeed.

And to hell with Parker Tavonesi.

The team of Oceana volunteers collected a hundred and forty more signatures by nine that evening. Juliet sprang for pizza and drinks at their headquarters. Persa charmed every last one of them with her acrobatics in the tank and her loggerhead smile. Motivation was a beautiful thing. Juliet was sure that they'd do as well or better on their numbers the next day.

The moon was rising over the bay as she drove up the hill and pulled in front of her cottage.

She poured a glass of wine and tried to settle down to plow through the papers that she'd neglected in order to focus on getting the citizen signatures on their petition.

Half an hour later, unable to stop thinking about Parker, she set aside the weighty regulation handbook she'd been attempting to read. The translator had done a decent job, but the dry prose didn't hold her scattered attention.

She pulled her laptop across the table, opened her browser and typed in Parker's name. As images and pages of references rolled down the screen, a pang of guilt snaked into her. But anyone could look up this information. It wasn't as though she was invading his privacy.

But she was obsessing and she knew it.

The first entry was from earlier in the afternoon in Rome. The headline grabbed her.

Parker Tavonesi scores four goals and takes the Avengers to a win in the Osteria dei Santi Italian Polo Cup finals.

She read the headline and dateline again, unbelieving.

Then she read the article, a sports report filled with polo terms she didn't understand. She began clicking through the photos. And stopped when she saw one of Parker standing next to a gorgeous woman. He had his arm around her. She lowered her eyes to the caption, already knowing what she'd see.

Socialite Rachael Meyer and Parker Tavonesi celebrate the Avenger upset.

Upset.

The word didn't begin to capture the feelings surging in her at the sight of him with Rachael, his old girlfriend.

The next day, Juliet threw herself into pounding the streets and going door to door with the volunteers. Twice she had the odd feeling that someone was watching her, maybe following her. But each time she paused and looked around, there was no one in sight except for her volunteers and a few gawking tourists.

Parker had made her paranoid.

But paranoia was a whole lot less troublesome than the anger and sense of betrayal that she fought to keep a lid on.

She told herself she shouldn't be angry. And she certainly shouldn't feel betrayed. They hadn't made any promises to each other. The photos of him with Rachael had sure underscored that fact.

When the team took a break for lunch, she opted to return to the office and try once again to convince Prime Minister Kantakos's staff to give her a meeting. But instead of punching in the number for Kantakos's office, she put her head down on her desk and closed her eyes, shutting out the bright noon light and trying to shut out thought. And feeling.

"Thought I might find you in here."

She jumped at the sound of Parker's voice.

"Siesta time?" He sat in the chair at the desk next to hers.

"You shouldn't sneak up on people like that." She swiveled her chair to face him. "You'll give someone a heart attack."

He grinned as he crossed his arms over his chest. "A new study discovered that some stress is actually good for one's health. It's the attitude toward the stress that makes all the difference. If a person—"

"What would _you_ know about stress? You just slink off at the first lure of splash and fun."

He spread his arms but before he could utter a word, her ringtone sounded.

Parker grinned. "Louis Armstrong?"

"Andreas messes with my phone." She grabbed her phone from the desk and looked at the screen. Did a double take.

"It's the prime minister's office," she mouthed to Parker as she tapped to take the call.

"Juliet Cabot," she said in the calmest voice she could manage.

The staffer asked if she was available to attend a meeting with the prime minister the next day at one thirty.

"Yes, that's perfect," she said, writing the time on the pad on her desk. _Any_ time was perfect as long as it was sooner rather than later, but she didn't say that.

The staffer gave her instructions for clearing security and getting her guest pass and said he'd meet her in the front lobby at ten minutes after one.

She tapped off the call but stared at her phone, her pulse still racing. "I got a meeting with the prime minister. I can't believe it."

"That's great," Parker said. "And I'm going with you."

"That's not necessary. It's Athens, not Timbuktu."

" _If_ you were traveling to Timbuktu, I might stay behind. That town is likely far safer than Athens these days." He stood, towering over her. "I am going with you, Juliet. I believe I'll be... _useful_ , shall we say?"

She started to bite out a snarky reply about his usefulness, but this was Parker. No matter how tumbled her feelings might be, he'd flown thousands of miles because she'd asked for his help. And he _had_ helped, more than she'd ever expected. And he'd touched her so deeply, she couldn't bring herself to be unkind, even if she was spitting mad at him.

"Okay. But I'm going into the meeting alone. I have my strategy and my talk all prepped."

He crossed his arms and gave her a look that melted her bones. "I wouldn't have expected any less."

Their flight into Athens was two hours late. Juliet was so nervous that she couldn't appreciate the sights and sounds of the city as the taxi driver weaved through the traffic and dropped her and Parker off at their hotel in Syntagma Square.

Her stomach was churning with hunger and nerves, but by the time they registered and left their bags with the hotel clerk, there was no time for even a quick bite.

They struck out on foot from the hotel, winding through crowds of tourists out to view the changing of the guard at the Presidential Palace.

Guards in wide-sleeved white tunics cinched over pleated white kilts marched stiff-legged, their white tights, jaunty red caps and the black fluffy pompoms on their bright red shoes adding a strange contrast to the very serious, unmoving expressions on their faces as well as to the rifles with their menacing bayonets.

"Don't let the outfits fool you," Parker said as they passed through the crowd goggling at the handsome guards. "That's an M1 Garand semiautomatic rifle. These guys are fierce."

As they approached the Maximos Mansion, a sidewalk vendor waved a warm gyro wrapped in foil under Parker's nose. Parker paid the man and unwrapped the foil, exposing perfectly grilled lamb doused in yogurt and sprinkled with herbs and chopped tomatoes.

"Want a bite?"

The scent of lamb and oregano made her mouth water. But with each step they took toward the meeting with Prime Minister Kantakos, butterflies ramped up their acrobatics in her stomach.

"I couldn't eat right now. But thanks."

He eyed her. "You'll do fine. Better than fine. If I were a sea turtle, I could think of no better advocate to make a case for me."

Heat crawled up her neck as his compliment pierced her armor. Everything about Parker arrowed into her and rearranged her careful internal maps. He owned territory in her heart that he probably didn't want, territory she was struggling to reclaim.

He took a big bite of the gyro. Chewed and smacked his lips. "Delicious."

He made the sandwich look as appealing as a feast for a king. "Okay, one bite. But let's walk over to the Plaka district and find a café after the meeting. I'll feel more like eating if all goes as well as you're predicting."

She took the sandwich from his fingers, holding the foil wrapper carefully so she wouldn't drip on her white silk blouse or tan linen skirt. Her skirt showed wrinkles from their travel, but it was her best outfit. The elegant lines and fine materials made her feel confident. And right then, confidence was worth the price of a few wrinkles.

"Not predicting," he said. "Going on the facts at hand. You have a good case, Juliet. _And_ a good cause."

She paused with the sandwich in midair. "I'd like to live in a world where cherishing life and beauty isn't just a cause."

"I get that. But appreciating the beauty of something can make people want to take care of it. A teacher of mine once said that people only love what they know. But I disagree. I think humans instinctively love trees and rivers, even if they're experiencing a forest or a waterfall for the first time. I think the awe we feel in those moments has to do with knowing that there's life-giving power in them."

She stared, clutching the gyro. Perhaps the heavens _had_ put Parker Tavonesi on the planet to torture her. Just when she thought that she could somehow categorize him and convince herself that he wasn't the man for her, he blasted through her defenses and blew her wide open. Said or did something that made her wish he could be hers. But that wasn't even a remote possibility, as her Internet snooping had confirmed. She hadn't asked anything about his trip to Italy, wasn't sure she wanted to know more than she already did. Sometimes it was better to let dreams one shouldn't have nurtured in the first place die hazy deaths of their own.

He nodded to the sandwich. "That'll get cold."

She took a bite before handing the gyro back to him. She couldn't stifle a hum of delight at the warm and savory taste.

"Told you it was delicious." He offered the gyro back to her. "More?"

"I don't want to risk getting it on my shirt." She didn't want to explain that in addition to being nervous about her upcoming meeting, she was now more nervous about the feelings he'd stirred.

They turned a corner. Two guards in military green camouflage flanked the iron-piked gate at the entrance to the mansion. Their guns appeared even bigger and more high-tech than those of the guards at the Presidential Palace.

Parker tossed the last of the gyro into a trash can. Her heart stuttered when he reached out a hand and circled her wrist, stopping her before they reached the gate.

He swept his free hand toward his chest. "Do I have gyro on my shirt?"

She twisted her hand free. "Don't make fun of me. This is my only good blouse. _I_ didn't bring four massive suitcases with me to Greece."

"I wasn't making fun of you. And next time you have an international jaunt planned, I'd be happy to advise you on what to pack."

She spun on her heel and walked toward the gate. Her voice faltered as she attempted to explain to the guard that she had a meeting with the prime minister.

Parker stepped up beside her and presented an engraved business card. The guard looked at the card, stepped into a booth next to the gate and made a call.

Two minutes later, she and Parker were climbing the flight of gleaming white marble stairs of the Maximos Mansion.

A staffer met them at the door and guided them through the security scan. They followed him along a black and white tiled floor that made her feel like she was crossing a chessboard. Gold sconces threw scattered light against the pale marble walls, adding to the gamelike effect.

Another staffer came out to greet them. He handed Juliet a guest pass and then turned to hand one to Parker. The staffer looked at his clipboard. "I have instructions to bring you both to the minister's office. If you'll follow me."

Parker was strangely silent as they made their way into a wood-paneled room. With floor-to-ceiling bookshelves and an overstuffed sofa and chairs, it resembled a library more than the office of the most powerful politician in Greece. A door opened along the far wall, and the prime minister ambled through it and over to greet them.

"Miss Cabot, how nice to finally meet you."

His handshake was firm, warm.

"Thank you for seeing me, Prime Minister."

"And Mr. Tavonesi, the pleasure is again mine."

_Again_? She eyed Parker as the two men shook hands.

"I am sorry to say that we have a very short period of time for our meeting, so I cannot offer you refreshments. But please, have a seat." Kantakos turned to her. "I understand you have a matter that requires my attention."

He knew damned well why she was meeting with him. But she drew in a breath and laid out the plans for the marine park, the _need_ for the marine park and all of her best arguments and facts about why protecting the nesting beaches and restricting the area were of benefit to not only the people of Zantos, but to the country and in fact the world. Several times she looked to Parker, and he nodded encouragement that buoyed her more than she wanted to admit.

"Thank you, Miss Cabot. You do understand that my oath requires me to look out for the general interest and progress of all the Greek people?"

"I do, Your Excellency. And I hope you can see that if you were to sign the declaration, you would be guaranteeing a richer future for your citizens on all fronts."

He steepled his fingers, tapping the tips against each other. "I have two weaknesses, Miss Cabot." He looked at Parker and smiled. "Well, two _main_ weaknesses. One is polo, which is how Mr. Tavonesi here managed to get you a meeting today. He got me last-minute tickets to the Italian Championship match."

"It was my pleasure to do so, Prime Minister," Parker said without looking at her.

Kantakos acknowledged Parker's response with a nod. "And of course Mr. Tavonesi bent my ear a bit regarding your campaign as his price." He lifted a framed photo from the table beside his chair and handed it to her.

"My _second_ weakness is this little boy. My grandson. Do you remember when children were crazy about dinosaurs, about T-Rex and the like?"

"Yes," Juliet answered. She was still processing the information bomb: _Parker_ had orchestrated the meeting.

"Well, my daughter's son is nuts about sea turtles. He has turtle sheets and turtle pajamas and stuffed toys of every turtle you can imagine. He's even roped one of his teachers into helping him create a sea turtle coloring book. So as it happens, I know quite a lot about the plight of sea turtles. And thus am even more amenable to your cause."

He cleared his throat and continued. "But these are challenging times for Greece. Some would say dire times economically. In times such as these, locals have to want what you and the international conservationists are proposing. You'll have to prove that the citizens of Zantos are in favor of this marine park."

"Pardon me, Prime Minister," Parker broke in. "If the Singapore group buys up the properties Juliet is referring to—the key properties abutting the most critical nesting beaches—the revenue from the new businesses they would build won't be staying in Greece. Some tax revenue might, but not the bulk of the income. The turtles, healthy and returning year after year, are good for the tourist business. It's a better scenario for the local economy."

"My sources tell me that some of the income would remain," Kantakos said without missing a beat. "They have financial partners on the island, or so I've been informed."

Parker slid a questioning glance to Juliet. She shrugged. It was the first she'd heard of island-based investors.

Kantakos stood and began pacing. "Look, I spend all my life these days on the phone, trying to avert problems, addressing failures of local leaders and dealing with sometimes petty agendas. I rarely get to talk about important things. Your petition could have floundered in the morass of what I and my staff fight every day if it weren't for your clever, and I must say excellent"—he looked from Parker to her—"friend."

He stopped in front of her. "I'm not antigrowth. But I also see the importance of protecting resources for the future. A thriving, healthy future that I commend you for seeing and working for. Greece needs optimism, especially now. But _I_ need the key people to sign. You'll have to get at least five hundred signatures from the local citizens as well as both key landowners to sign the petition. I'm sure you understand."

Though her heart raced, Juliet nodded. She'd expected that he'd need to see local support, but getting that many more signatures on top of the ones they had already gathered and convincing Markos not to sell his land in the short time frame they had? She wasn't sure her volunteer team could pull off such a feat.

"One may dismiss this as technocrats looking at numbers," he continued. "But democracy is about adding up numbers, as much as many would like to think otherwise. Adding up numbers is the very essence of democracy."

The door at the end of the room clicked open. A staffer signaled Kantakos.

"You'll have to excuse me. I have another meeting. I do hope you're spending some time in Athens while you're here, enjoying the sights."

He gave a warm but dismissive smile that made Juliet feel desperate. She got to her feet. No way was she letting him go without a more solid promise. "If we get these signatures and the two key landowners on board, you'll sign the declaration?"

Kantakos smiled at her. "I thought that's what I just said. And if you succeed, I will _personally_ fly to Zantos for the signing ceremony."

"Thank you, Your Excellency."

"Miss Cabot, just _Prime Minister_ will do, at least when I'm on Greek soil. In fact, in private you are most welcome to call me Lucas."

Kantakos held out his hand and she shook it.

He turned to Parker. "Mr. Tavonesi, I look forward to visiting your vineyard someday. And to playing a pickup match on your cousin's polo field."

"You'll have the choice of my stables and my cousin Zoe's."

Kantakos touched his fingers to his forehead in a salute. "Until we meet again. I wish you both good fortune."

When her feet hit the sidewalk and they were out of sight of the mansion, Juliet whirled to Parker.

"You set that up!"

"Guilty."

"It's so like you to do a sneaky thing behind a person's back, thinking you know what's best for everybody and—"

"It worked, didn't it?"

Her whole body hummed with the adrenaline still flooding from the meeting and from discovering Parker's role in securing it.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I wasn't sure Kantakos would come through. I didn't want to whip your hopes up."

He touched his hand to hers, watching her eyes. When she didn't move, he laced his fingers between hers. At his subtle, gentle touch, her pulse raced. She counted her steps and tried to will the throbbing to calm as they walked along the crowded sidewalk.

Parker squeezed her hand. "I think we should follow Kantakos's suggestion."

She dragged her hand from his. "To get five hundred people to sign? Hardly a suggestion."

"That we see a bit of Athens. Visit the Acropolis, tour the Parthenon, have dinner in the Plaka. Have a little fun before we fly out tomorrow." He stopped walking and rested his hand on her shoulder. "And just for one night pretend we aren't on a crushing schedule with the future of the world held in the balance."

Sitting in her hotel room and firing off emails was only going to dig the same old tracks deeper. She needed a new plan. A better plan. A break might do her good, might fire new ideas for the work ahead. "Okay. But no more surprises."

"Well, only one." He slid his hand down her arm, tracking fire along its path. "Or maybe two. But you'll like them, I promise."

Even though her instincts rang out a warning, familiar clichés soared into her mind, battering at the boundaries she'd so carefully fenced around her. _You only live once_. _Seize the day_. _Stop and smell the roses_. _Go with the flow_. _Prudence keeps life safe but does not often make it happy._

An evening being a tourist sounded like bliss. Every cell in her body, with the exception of those in her brain, was voting to spend the evening touring Athens with him. She could enjoy the evening and his company; she could unkink her heart later. Or maybe never. Probably never.

The truth was, though she'd tried to will herself not to want to know more of him, not to want to be with him, will was a weak force in the face of the yearning he ignited. Maybe she'd lose her footing, but she'd find it again, she always did. The prospect of shutting down or pretending to ignore the power he fired would deaden her soul.

She freed her arm from his touch. "You are officially limited to two surprises, California Boy. And only after I have a chance to go back to the room, shower and change my clothes."

"And leave your superwoman linen and silks behind?"

" _I_ didn't bring four suitcases to Greece. What else is in all those cases, anyway?"

"Two are stuffed with my polo gear. The other two? Just bare necessities. I hadn't planned to be in Greece for more than a few days."

"I'd hate to see what you'd bring if you were planning to be somewhere for a month."

"Maybe someday you will."

His words thudded into her. What did he mean by them? He was so facile with words that she didn't know if it was a jest or if he was tossing out a lure. Or if she was reading more into the simple sentence than was there. Four simple words strung together shouldn't set her on edge.

# Chapter Nineteen

Parker made a few last-minute calls to confirm details of the surprise he'd planned for his evening with Juliet. While watching her go toe to toe with the stalwart prime minister, Parker had felt admiration swell in his chest. Though she'd held up well in the face of Kantakos's demands, he'd seen the strain creep in around her eyes, had watched the muscles of her jaw clench.

The fierceness underlying her devotion and excellence required fuel. She needed a break.

If he didn't do anything else for the Oceana campaign, he could at least return their leader to them renewed and recharged. He might be wrong, but he was pretty sure that delight and joy could shore up her fire.

And if he got burned in the process of providing those delights?

He'd deal.

She'd awakened some veiled and forgotten part of him, and strategy, rehearsal, refinement, logic—his usual tools—wouldn't be of any help putting his once-dormant heart back to sleep.

He'd already resigned himself to having to deal with the desire that screamed in him anytime he was around her and most times when he wasn't. It would've been easier if Juliet didn't fire him up with the simplest glance or smile. Even her frowns scissored into him.

But one promise he would keep—he wouldn't seduce her. She had to make the first move. And that move would have to be bold and clear.

He buttoned the superfine oxford shirt that the hotel staff had pressed for him. Jeans would be warm in the cool night and sturdy enough for the activities he had planned. Perhaps he should've warned Juliet and suggested what she might wear but she'd made it clear her choices were limited. And she sure wasn't one to accept an offer for a shopping spree.

He paused in front of the door that joined his room to hers and considered knocking. But prudence won out, and he went into the hall, walked the thirty steps to her door and knocked.

"Jeez, just a minute. It's only five twenty-seven. I still have three minutes."

He didn't bother to bite back his smile. A minute later, the door opened.

Parker sucked in a breath.

Juliet wore the coral sheath she'd worn to the community party. But his perception had changed, or his memory didn't serve him, or some Athenian goddess had cast a spell on him that afternoon, because the dress hugged her curves like it had been painted onto her body. Her hair fell in red-gold curls around her shoulders, and she clutched a strappy pair of gold sandals with three-inch heels in her hand as if they were instruments of Aphrodite.

And all he wanted to do was back her against the wall and kiss her until the dress was an afterthought pooled around her ankles and her legs were wrapped around his hips and—

"You look very pulled together." She turned and motioned to the back of her dress with the hand that held the sandals. "I, on the other hand, have managed to get my zipper stuck. Would you give me a hand?"

Her dress was half-zipped, and the curve of her spine glistened in the opening. Or maybe glimmered. He wanted to run his palm along each vertebra, touch his finger to the curve of her waist. Dip his hand lower to the tender spot between her legs and—

"Parker?"

"Got it." He grasped the tab and wiggled it, pulling the fabric away from the teeth of her zipper. The heat of her body radiated her scent, tuberose and honey and something that he couldn't place but that was distinctly her. The zipper didn't budge. He squatted down to examine it more closely, and she shivered.

"I have a shirt and jeans." She raised her arm and looked under it to where his face was level with her waist. "But I thought it would be fun to dress up for a change. I mean, when I'm not doing it for work. Do you think you can free it?"

He gave up trying to track the zipper up. "I'm going to try backing it down and then up."

"God, it's been a day of one step forward, two steps back." She peered around her hip and down at him again. "You know, I have to find Doria. She might be able to talk to Markos. In fact I'm sure she could. And I think that if—"

"Whoa. Stop." He touched his thumb to her spine. "No. More. Thinking. Prime Minister's orders."

"He didn't say that."

"Okay, maybe not, but that's what he meant. And what I mean. I'll help you find Doria, but for right now, pretend you're here to have fun. Even Joan of Arc needed a break, Juliet. Let's stoke that happy fire back up."

Her shoulder blades rose as she huffed out a breath. "If I'm going to keep letting you help me, you have to tell me why you have such a hard time allowing yourself to be helped or advised."

"Not tonight, Juliet. That would distinctly fall into the category of thinking."

The muscles in her back rippled as she let out another puff of protest. He gave a concerted tug, and the zipper slid down, exposing the top of her thong, his fingers trailing along with it. He was definitely going to have words with Aphrodite, whether he believed in the goddess of love or not. This was torture he did not deserve.

Juliet put her hand to her waist, pushing the back of the dress closed. The heels of her sandals were half an inch from his nose. "Would you zip me? I don't want to have a replay. I'm all thumbs tonight."

He wouldn't survive a replay.

He ran the zipper up, following her disappearing, exquisite back as he did.

She whirled around. "Perfect. Thank you." She dangled the sandals. "These okay for what you have planned?"

They weren't, but he wanted to see her in them. Hell, he wanted to slip them on her feet and then plant kisses up her calves and then slowly, gently, find that scrap of lace he'd just glimpsed and—

"You seem distracted," she said. "You sure you're up for an outing?"

He waved his hand. "No. I mean, yes. I was just thinking."

"I thought we weren't going to be thinking."

"Right. Tell you what, wear the sandals to dinner but bring a change of shoes. What else do you have?"

"Running shoes."

"Bring them."

She gave a sly smile. "Good. I can handle a surprise that involves running shoes. You had me nervous there for a minute."

Not as nervous as he was, he'd bet. He felt like an eighth grader headed to a prom. Except now he knew exactly what was possible between two consenting adults, and the knowledge was torturing him.

They caught a taxi to the edge of the Plaka district.

In the waning light, shiny gray cobblestones, worn to a sheen by millions of feet over thousands of years, reflected the varied shades of the yellow and blue buildings lining the narrow street. Green shutters at most of the windows gave the buildings an air of open-eyed welcome. Merchants' stalls sold everything the locals or tourists could wish for—jewelry, statues of the ancient gods and goddesses, scarves, postcards, vegetables and fruits. The famous cats of Athens prowled along the perimeters of the cafés, looking for handouts from tolerant patrons.

Juliet put a hand to his arm and then held out her backpack. "Would you hold this for me? I'll be just a minute."

He must've looked apprehensive, because she added, "I'm just going over there to that little sundries booth. I forgot to bring a lipstick. And, well, I think this dress and this adventure call for lipstick."

He laughed. He'd been unsuccessful in talking her out of the backpack. She did need something to house her running shoes, but the lumpy backpack didn't go with her sleek, glamorous outfit. But Juliet would look glamorous in anything she wore. Even more appealing was the fact that she seemed to neither know nor care how she looked.

He kept an eye on her as she entered the stall and then allowed himself to enjoy a young man sitting in the graffiti-covered doorway next to it, playing an accordion. Parker put five euros in the open case, and the young man smiled up at him without missing a note.

Juliet bounded out of the stall. "Red! He only had red." She tore open the plastic packaging. "What do you think, Oh Great Arbiter of Good Taste?"

"So now you _want_ my opinion, do you?"

"Because I get to _ask_ for your opinion." She grinned as she screwed the lipstick up and held it to her lips. "Makes all the difference, getting to ask, you know. Volition and choice—I'm rather fond of both."

"I noticed." He took the lipstick from her. "Shall I?"

She let out a hearty laugh. "It's the wrong color for you."

He moved the lipstick toward her lips. She puckered them.

"Relax your lips, Juliet. Or I'll end up making you look like a marionette."

She bit at her bottom lip. "Kantakos already did that."

"You'll best him. Now relax. Make an _O_."

He stroked the color along her bottom lip. Full and luscious, her lips didn't need color, but the lipstick gave her a glamorous screen-siren pout. She stood there, her lips poised in the sweetest pose, her eyes closed. He carefully followed the bow of her upper lip, grateful that the backpack he held in his other hand hid his response to the damnedest erotic nonevent of his life. Juliet Cabot was going to kill him with her innocence and her daring devotion.

"There." He handed the lipstick back to her.

"What do you think?" She gave a broad camera-style smile.

"Perfect. For the night. For the dress. For you."

She stilled, and the smile faded from her face.

"Thank you, Parker. For getting the meeting with Kantakos. For coming to Greece. For helping me."

"I'm doing it for the turtles," he said, deadpan. She sure didn't need the added burden of knowing his deeper feelings for her. Not piled on top of everything else she had to field and face.

Her head tipped up and then down in the slightest nod. "Thought so. I knew the turtles would get to you. Shall I send a set of turtle sheets when I can find some on the Internet?"

"Do they come large enough to fit a California king?"

She laughed as she zipped the lipstick into the top pocket of her backpack and moved to take it from him.

"Uh, no. I'll carry it."

"I can carry my own backpack."

"Humor me, Juliet. Just this once."

They passed a group of men playing backgammon and made their way through oblivious tourists snapping photos in every direction imaginable.

Near the steps that led up toward the Acropolis, they stopped at a small taverna. The subtle evening light gilded the marble columns of the temple at its peak, making it look like an apparition rising out of a moat of green.

"We'll head up there after dinner," he said as he held her chair for her.

"I thought it closed at sunset."

"A friend has arranged a private tour."

"Is there anyone anywhere that you don't have connections with?"

"Timbuktu. I have very sparse influence in that fine city."

Her laugh lifted him. Musicians in the café began to play spirited folk songs. At that moment, the mystery and the magic of Greece were alive and dancing in his veins.

But it was more than Greece, whether he wanted to admit it or not.

He watched Juliet study the menu by the reflected glow of hundreds of white lights strung through an ancient olive tree at the center of the café's small patio. She took ordering dinner as seriously as she did planning a campaign. He loved her quirks. Loved her courage and her tenacity. Hell, with the exception of her lack of concern for her safety, he loved everything he'd seen so far.

He'd come to peace with the fact that he loved her. The recognition of that truth had shocked and then settled into him on the polo field in Italy. And because he loved her, if she didn't offer an opening—a word or gesture to call him into her inner realm—he wasn't going to storm her walls. He understood enough to know that you couldn't will yourself to love a person. Either you loved them and there was chemistry, or you didn't love them. No in-between.

Still, he'd fight through any crack she allowed to open.

Whether she meant to or not, she pulled him toward the future. Maybe that was one of the mysteries of love: it lured you to a destiny that choice and chance and vision twined together, and called a man or woman to become more than they ever imagined becoming. The lure of love wasn't a cliché or a line from a sappy song. The life-shifting emotion was as real as life-giving oxygen or the steady beat of the heart. He'd been torn up when he'd split with Rachael. But faced with the prospect of losing Juliet? He couldn't even fathom what lay ahead. Didn't want to consider the future. Not yet.

An awkward silence settled after they ordered their meal. But tonight was his gift to her, and he knew how to make conversation.

"Did you visit the Acropolis when you first came to Athens?" he asked, nodding toward the temple looming above them.

"I saw it only from the window of my hotel. Even that far away I could see that it was crawling with tourists." She rested her elbows on the table and cradled her face in her hands. "I can't believe we get to go up there in the moonlight. Without the crowds."

Parker took a sip of the tepid red wine the waiter had brought. All he wanted to do was kiss Juliet, but he sought for words instead. "In antiquity, the Parthenon, like most of the other monuments in Athens, was painted in bright colors."

She sipped her wine. "Thank goodness the colors faded to reveal the natural marble."

A small boy lingered a few feet from their table, eyeing them. Parker had read in the paper that morning that the authorities had clamped down on street begging, but with its warrens of narrow streets and throngs of tourists, the Plaka was an unruly district.

" _Théleis mia fotografía me to fílo sas_?" the boy said as he approached Juliet.

"Oh, he's not my boyfriend," she responded in Greek.

And wasn't that just the kicker? Her quick response underscored the boundary he'd sworn to hold.

"Fotografía?" the boy repeated.

"He'll probably steal your phone," Parker warned.

"Your sister thinks I'm too trusting," she said as she unzipped the pocket of her backpack. "But I'd love to have a reminder of my night out. I might not have another for God knows how long."

"I rarely agree with my sister, but in this case, I do. Trusting is okay but only if you know who to trust."

"Are you channeling Mr. Spock now, or is this chapter two of Parker's Wisdom for the Ages?"

Before he could stop her, she handed the boy her phone. To Parker's relief, he didn't run off. The boy motioned them to lean in close. They scooted their chairs closer, but Parker kept one leg poised, ready to burst into a run if he had to chase the kid down. The flash blinded him.

" _Mia álli_ ," the boy directed. He looked at the screen, squinted and then walked over and lifted Parker's arm to drape it around Juliet's shoulders. " _Kalýtero_ ," he said as he stepped back, framed the photo with his fingers and looked as pleased with himself as if he were directing on a Hollywood movie set.

The second flash wasn't nearly as blinding as the first. The boy stood there, smiling. Juliet reached a hand out for her phone. The boy stepped back.

" _Pénte euros_ ," the boy said, holding the phone behind his back.

"Five euros!" Juliet exclaimed.

"Small price to ransom your phone." Parker peeled off a bill and handed it to the boy, making sure that he had a grip on the phone before the boy could snatch the euro note from him.

" _Omorfi kopéla_ ," the boy said and ran off.

_Pretty girlfriend_. Well, the boy had the pretty part right.

"The kid's an entrepreneur. I can relate," Parker said. He tapped on the photo and sent a copy to himself.

They dug into their meal of dolmades and moussaka and shared a _horiatiki_ , the ubiquitous but delicious Greek salad of tomatoes, onions, pepper and cucumbers slathered in olive oil and topped with a fresh slab of crumbly feta cheese sprinkled with oregano.

The waiter came to check on them, and Parker asked for the bill.

Juliet pulled out her wallet. "You have to let me pay for something."

"You can tip the Parthenon guards."

"Guards?"

"Not the government guards, although they'll probably try for a tip. I had to hire two private guards to accompany us. Part of the deal," he added.

"Happy to do that. But how do you know where to hire these people?"

"In this case Kantakos set it up. He's a romantic at heart and thinks we're a couple. I wanted you to have this evening—to relax and enjoy yourself—so I didn't tell him otherwise."

Her expression did that thing he hated, went from enlivened interest to cool and blank.

"I wish he was as concerned about sea turtles and oceans as he is about being a fairy godfather."

Parker laughed. "Even powerful men have the desire to do what they can to orchestrate happiness. Like the rest of us, he probably cherishes creating a perfect moment that can press back against the stress of difficult problems."

"You've gone from Mr. Spock to Dr. Phil," she said with a laugh. "Hand me my backpack. Time to leave the gilded sandals behind and step back into my real life."

Parker found himself wishing that he could push back real life. Just for a night. Just long enough to allow the love he felt for Juliet to storm past the walls—his and hers—of logic and reason.

He handed her the backpack. She leaned down, dropped it by her feet and pulled out her running shoes. She reached for the buckle of one sandal.

He dropped to his knees beside her. "Let me help you. It's dark out here."

She glanced around the patio. "Not that dark, Parker."

But she let him wrap his fingers around her ankle. The shiver that went up her calf made his heart pound, driving blood to the places his willful mind told him he'd be better off ignoring.

Logic and will lost the battle.

He slipped off first one sandal, then the other, barely resisting the urge to kiss her delicate instep. To run his tongue along the indentation just below her ankle. And to—

"I forgot my socks," she said, dragging him back from the abyss he'd nearly fallen into. But he couldn't resist stroking a finger along the top of her foot as he slid on her shoe.

She let out a gasp and pulled her foot from his grasp.

"I think I can handle putting on my other shoe."

He rocked back on his heels and handed the shoe to her. The self-sufficiency he admired in her was, at that moment, an untimely virtue.

# Chapter Twenty

Twilight gave way to night as they left the wide pedestrian avenue and approached the imposing Doric columns of the Propylaea, the massive gateway to the Acropolis.

Two uniformed guards broke off their focus from a phone and stopped them.

"More machine guns," Juliet said under her breath.

"There've been bombings and demonstrations the past two years all over Athens. The Parthenon, with its status, is a likely target if you wanted to make a point." He pulled the pass from his pocket. "This gets us in, but it won't make them any more comfortable."

The taller guard perused the pass and then introduced them to the two hired guards Kantakos had arranged.

One of their hired guards held out his hand for the pass. Parker gave it to him. He read, grunted something to his companion and waved Parker and Juliet toward the stone steps leading up toward the Parthenon.

The four of them climbed past the Porch of the Maidens at the Erechtheum and the smaller temple of Nike. The guards lagged behind, talking in low tones. Muted voices rose from the Plaka, a murmured soundtrack to their climb.

Juliet lost her footing on a slippery stone, and Parker grasped her arm.

She righted herself and pulled her arm free from his hand. "I'm glad you told me to bring my running shoes. These steps are as slippery in places as ice." She toed the step. "Two and a half millennia," she said, her voice soft with awe. "How many millions of people have climbed these steps over the years, smoothing the stones?"

"The largest number have come from tourists in the past sixty years."

She put her hands to her hips and stared up at the lighted temple looming above. "I can't help but wonder what the people who first built these structures would think if they saw what's become of it."

"You'd have varied stories, I'm sure. People lived here as early as 5000 BC. The Acropolis's sheer size and the height of the hill it's built on made it a superb natural defense, a perfect place to avoid enemies and to be able to see invaders coming across the sea or the plains of Attica."

"Odd to think of a temple as a fortress."

"Did you read Aristophanes's _Lysistrata_?"

She laughed. "Hardly. I went to a public high school. And then in college focused mainly on science."

"In his play, the women of Athens tired of their men going to war against Sparta. They barricaded themselves in the fortress in protest, depriving their men of sex, cooking and care. Might've been the first example of sexual frustration married to comedy."

Since meeting Juliet, he knew more than he wanted to about sexual frustration.

"Now there's a terrific strategy. Too bad I can't get all the women of Zantos to do the same until the marine park is declared."

"No work tonight, remember?"

She pressed her lips together. "I've never been good at shutting my brain off."

They came to a flat area, and she peered down at the city below.

He swept his arm toward a cluster of brightly lit buildings. "Many of the city states of ancient Greece are built around an acropolis where the inhabitants can go as a place of refuge in times of invasion. That's why the most sacred buildings are usually on the acropolis. It would've been the safest, most secure place."

"Zuri told me you studied architecture."

God only knew what else his sister had told her. Zuri's less-than-flattering accounts of his love life were probably just one more block in his unlikely path to her heart.

"The history of architecture, mostly," he said. "Although I have dabbled a bit with various projects over the years. I'm fascinated by the shapes and structures we humans have chosen to build. I wouldn't have minded being Pericles in 450 BC and having the famed sculptor Phidias for a best friend. But if I ramble, a sharp elbow to the ribs might stop me. I'm not good at quelling my enthusiasm when it comes to things I'm passionate about. When I came here for the Olympics, I spent more time in the ruins and museums than I did watching the competitions."

"Don't stop; I love hearing your perspective. You make me wish I hadn't weaseled out of my humanities classes."

He again swept a hand toward the sparkling lights of the city below them. "If it were daylight, you could see the layout of the ancient city. The Ancient Agora is just there." He pointed. "And over there is the Theater of Dionysos." He pointed toward the northeast. "That's Syntagma Square. Home to our hotel and the good Mr. Kantakos."

She tipped her face up to his. "I _hope_ he's good. Do you think he'll keep his promise?"

He tapped her temple. "That brain of yours is still on the clock." At her humorous grimace, he added, "We'll find out what sort of man Kantakos is after you meet his demands. And you _will_ meet them, Juliet—I have faith in you and your team. But for now, let's head on up. We only have the guards for an hour and a half."

When they reached the lighted Parthenon, their privately hired guards wandered off to speak with a group of government guards milling about near the scaffolding on one side of the temple.

Juliet craned her neck and looked up at the night sky. "So many stars. I hadn't realized how open this was. It's a totally different feel than I expected from the photos."

"You have the Venetians to thank for this being open to the sky. In their attempt to capture the Acropolis from the Turks in the seventeenth century, they blew the roof off and much of the interior to smithereens. A shell fired from that hill in the distance struck the Parthenon. And because the Turks had stored gunpowder and munitions—probably right about where we're standing— _kablooey_."

She ran her hand along the marble of the column next to her. "I find it odd that an icon can be so strong in my mind and yet I don't really know its story."

He dropped the backpack to the stones below their feet. "This particular temple was built to thank the goddess Athena, the patron saint of Athens, for blessings during the war with the Persians." He waggled his brows. "Maybe we should say a prayer to her?"

"I hope we're not in a war, Parker."

"No. Badly spoken of me. I think of what you're doing, of the campaign, as more of a transformation."

" _Transformation_." She said the word as if it were a lifeline she might hold on to. "I hope you're right."

"I'm rarely wrong about strategies, especially when they involve politics."

"There are still so many key pieces we're missing. Doria for one. And so many more signatures and—"

He put his finger to her lips. Very bad move. She pursed against it, and he drew his hand away, her red lipstick branding him no less than the spike of want that stormed through him. "Parthenon, remember? Athens."

"Right. No work until tomorrow." She let out a long sigh as she surveyed the columns. "I can't help but think that this temple wouldn't be as beautiful if it were intact."

"Hard for an architecturally minded man to hear," he said, trying to ignore the storm that touching her had brewed.

"The scars of weather, of human folly and of time may have taken a toll, but they give a patina, a feeling of history that only time can bestow on an object."

The moon had risen over the sea during their climb. Its spangling light danced on Juliet's face as she spoke.

"It's almost as if I can feel time itself as I run my hand along this column."

He shouldn't have touched her lips. Her words became fuzzy, their edges eaten away by the effort he was making not to lean her against the column and taste pleasure both sacred and profane.

"These rocks, these walls..." She spun in a circle, her hair dancing around her shoulders, the gold-enriched strands reaching out to catch glints of moonlight. "This was a sacred temple, where worshipers faced the mysteries of life and tried to understand their hopes and dreams and fears. I can't help but think how unlikely life on Earth is in the first place, our rare, tiny spaceship teeming with complex life and spinning in a vast and mysterious universe. We know so much more about life now. What must they have thought back then?"

Time had become dense, collapsing so that all Parker could hold on to was this moment and the pulse that drove him beyond reason, beyond caution. He knew then, as he watched her, as he listened to her words and to what simmered below them, what had been missing from his life. What he'd been so busy replacing with endless activities in an effort to ignore the void.

She called to a deep place within him, one he couldn't enter without her help. No, a place that he simply hadn't known existed inside him before he'd met her. He couldn't ignore or deny the power that drew him. It was deep calling to deep. And it wasn't something to be analyzed by the mind but experienced soul to soul.

Sure, he loved her intellect, her hungry curiosity about life. Loved her capacity for wonder and her appetite for facts and discovering the inner secrets that science and intuition could serve up to a passionate mind.

But it wasn't just her intellect. Everything about her drove him mad with an uncheckable desire.

And her heart? He wished he had a clue. But he intended to find out.

He took one of her curls between his fingers, rubbing the place where auburn gave way to gold. Watching her face, he tugged at the strand, drawing her to him. "Perhaps those ancient people considered a temple in the moonlight the perfect setting for a kiss."

Her lips formed a soft _O_.

Before she could stop him with a glance or a gesture, he wrapped his arms around her and pressed her back against a column. His lips tasted hers, hungry with desire he could no longer hold back.

The soft moan that escaped her as her tongue danced and twined with his shut down thought. She laced her hands at the back of his neck and pressed her body to his, her breasts firm against him, her heart tattooing a fast rhythm into his chest. His erection throbbed, pressing into her belly as he traced a hand to her ribs and then drew it higher to cup her breast, molding his palm to her heat under the thin fabric of her dress. He thumbed the taut nub of her nipple and captured her cry of pleasure with his lips.

The sound of footsteps echoed, becoming louder, and he stilled and then stepped back from her.

Juliet stiffened and opened her eyes.

Lost in the kiss, they hadn't heard the guard approaching.

The man shrugged and pointed to his watch, then jerked his head toward the path leading down.

Juliet blushed, the color evident even in the soft moonlight.

Parker picked up her backpack and slung it over his shoulder, cursing himself as he did. He'd broken his promise to let her make the first move. Even if it was a promise he'd made only to himself, it mattered. Those were the promises he never wanted to break.

Though it wasn't easy, he kept his hands in his pockets on their quick downhill trip back to the Plaka.

The noise and bustle of the tourists in the busy district obscured the silence that had fallen between them after they left the Parthenon. When they reached their hotel, he walked her to the door of her room.

"Would you like to come in?" she asked as he handed her backpack to her.

"You must be tired," he heard himself say.

Was he crazy? She was inviting him into her room. The one woman he wanted in his bed, her bed, any bed, was inviting him into her room and he was talking her out of it?

"No, I'm not tired. I want you to come in, Parker. We need to finish what we started in the temple."

She slid her key card into the door. The lock clicked, and she nudged the door open, dropping the backpack just beyond the opening. "Unless you don't want to. I mean, maybe you just got caught up in the place, the moment and—"

"Caught up, yes. But more than a moment." His gaze locked with hers. "Are you sure about this, Juliet?"

"Yes," she said quietly, watching his face.

He crushed his lips to hers. The small sound she made as she wrapped her arms around his neck and her tongue slid across his exploded fire in his veins. He lifted her in his arms, his kiss demanding the future he hardly dared to wish for. A future with her. One thought held in his mind as he carried her toward the bed: he would use every power at his command to find a way into her heart. And if she threw him out? He'd face that reality if the time came.

Still cradling her in his arms, he sank onto the bed. He resisted as she put her hands to his chest and tried to press him away. She broke off their kiss and slid her legs off his lap.

In the dim room, he couldn't see her eyes. His whole body pounded with unfulfilled desire. Had she changed her mind? If she had, he'd have to call up every scrap of energy to stop himself. Seduction was one thing, but powering through a woman's defenses wasn't in him.

She didn't look at him as she stood and took a step to the bedside table. She clicked on the lamp, flooding the room with light.

"I want to see you," she said as she turned back to him and met his questioning gaze. His erection throbbed its approval, but it was his heart that pounded with hope as she stepped to him and began to unbutton his shirt. "All of you."

_Let her lead_ , his inner voice said, barely audible over the blood rushing to his head.

He held still, his breath ragged, as she fumbled with the buttons. Her scent, her heat and the knowledge that he would soon taste her, sink himself inside her, ramped up the surge of want and emotion crashing at his resolve.

Her hands were hot against his skin as she slid his shirt down his shoulders. The pulse at the base of her throat picked up speed when she put her hands to his chest. His heart pounded hard under her palm. It was all he could do not to reach for her. But the voice he trusted told him to wait.

Goose bumps lifted along her arms as she lowered her hands to his belt. With a tug, she pulled the leather through the buckle. Her wrist pressed against his erection; sensation fired and broke through the tenuous dam he'd attempted to keep in place. He grabbed her wrists and pulled her arms to her sides.

"Better let me do that," he said, his voice hoarse.

He stood and shrugged out of his jeans. He left his briefs on, although the thin cotton didn't hide his erection, already pushing over the top of the elastic waistband.

She drew her finger across the tip, smoothing the telltale drop with her thumb. She bent her knees and edged her fingers to the elastic, drawing his briefs down, but he slid his hands under her arms, lifting her away.

"But, Parker, I want to—"

"Later," he said, cutting her off. "I want to know what you want, but just hearing your words would finish me off. Turn around." He bit out the demand more forcefully than he'd intended.

The zipper of her dress didn't catch. He gave a silent prayer of thanks as the dress dropped to the floor.

She pivoted and touched a hand to his chest, steadying herself as she stepped out, first one foot and then the other.

Seeing the lace bra barely containing the soft curves of her breasts and eyeing the triangular scrap of thong, he said a second prayer—asking whatever forces commanded the heavens for the ability to hold back the crushing energy that threatened his plan to pleasure her first and pleasure her well. This wasn't just sex, this was Juliet, the woman he wanted to make a future with. The _only_ woman he wanted to make a future with. What happened between them tonight mattered.

She wrapped her arms around her chest and backed away from him, her eyes roving his body. Buoyed by the appreciation he saw in her eyes, he held out a hand. She looked at it as if she'd never seen a hand before. He wiggled his fingers but didn't reach for her. Closing the distance between them had to be her decision. But he wasn't beyond persuading.

"Come here. I promise not to bite."

He didn't promise he wouldn't nibble, taste and savor.

When she slid her body against his and let him fold her into his arms, he was sure there was an angel somewhere looking out for the future he planned to have with Juliet.

# Chapter Twenty-One

The sound of a phone ringing startled Juliet from her dream.

She grabbed at the receiver. And heard the message from the hotel's front desk telling her it was seven thirty and the weather forecast was for clear skies, a fact she could've deduced from the sunlight streaming into the room.

The bed covers lay in a tangled heap around her. She ran her hand over the indentation at the center of the bed, felt the coolness under her fingertips. Drawing her hand to her face, she inhaled the spicy male scent on her palm. _Parker_. At least she'd had the sense to make him go back to his own room in the early hours of the morning. Waking up in his arms and pulled tight to his body would've been just one more intimate pleasure that she'd have to confine to the memory closet.

Her gaze landed on the bedside table. Not one but three empty condom wrappers lay crumpled next to the phone.

She hadn't dreamed the evening's events. But she had dreamed. And her erotic dream paled in the face of the real experience of the previous evening.

Making love with Parker scared the hell out of her. Just when she'd thought she could contain the energy connecting them, he stormed her walls, forcing a connection with her and erasing the distance between them.

She laughed at the paradox—she'd imagined leading, staying in control, had made plans to do so in her mind. She should've known better. There was no leading the energy that flowed between her and Parker. A symphony of desire and want and crushing sensation had carried her with its unstoppable rhythms as surely as a flooding river might have carried a paper boat downstream.

She'd let go, and for those brief hours had stopped thinking of what could be, of what some deep part of her wanted to wish for, and had let herself just be content with what was.

And he hadn't kept his promise—he did bite. In the most exquisite way possible. He'd given and taken, had both tasted and offered himself to her mouth and to her hands. She'd reveled in the freedom to explore his mouth, his body, his flavors and textures. Tasting him, feeling her own power surge when his balls had drawn up tight and when he'd let out an animal growl, she'd taken him deep into her mouth. Watching— _feeling_ —him lose control had been a heady experience. Yet not only that; it had been emotionally charged in a different way, a way that had squeezed her heart. She'd recognized that his relinquishing of control had been a gift to her.

Afterward she'd tumbled without a mooring, lost in the unrelenting pleasure he'd given to her. It was no wonder such experiences drove lovers to cross lines they thought they never would, to engage in deeds that their rational minds fought but failed to stop.

Biting at her lip, she tasted blood. She lifted her fingers to her mouth and inhaled. His scent was still strong on her and around her. She shivered, liking that she'd been marked by him in such an elemental way.

He was an amazing lover. Any woman would love to have the experiences she'd had—the city, the temple and the mind-blowing sex. But she had to keep her perspective. _She'd_ fallen over the edge, but Parker was a sophisticated man. He probably had experiences like this all the time. Sex like this all the time too. At least she hadn't made a fool of herself by saying the L-word, no matter how strongly she felt the emotion.

And in the light of day, she had to be realistic and admit that their fiery, sensual connection was like a holiday romance scripted by Hollywood's best, a temporary fantasy fed by exotic surroundings and unfamiliar turf.

She pulled her legs up to her chest and hugged her knees, rocking back against the pillows. Why did the man who touched the deepest realms of her soul—who brought her alive with an intensity she hungered for—have to be a man not interested in a relationship? She should've listened to Zuri, believed her when she'd told her Parker didn't have the relationship gene. And she should've guarded her heart better. But there probably wasn't any defense against the energy he'd freed. With him, she'd unlocked the gate willingly, her eyes wide. And now she'd better make a damned mighty effort at shutting that gate again.

At least she could keep this from becoming a circus, a classic love farce with her clinging and him retreating. Her heart was open, splayed to its core. But he didn't have to know that.

She heard Parker moving around in the next room. She listened, though she knew each sound would only stoke the fire she was determined to douse.

A shower might help. And breakfast. Then the short flight back to Zantos, back to her work.

In the bathroom, she pinned her hair up. She'd considered washing it, but couldn't bring herself to wash out his scent. Not yet. She would. And the memories would fade, their sharpness receding into less painful reveries. But as she let the hot water pound her shoulders, tears came, flowing down her face.

Perhaps she'd been wrong. Perhaps not knowing the depth of passion, the pull of love might've been easier and less painful to leave behind. Too late now. Too late. Too late. She would have to find a way to move on and stop torturing herself with what could never be.

Resolved, she toweled her body, but every stroke reminded her of his hands on her skin. With a moan, she threw the towel across the bathroom and knocked a glass off the counter. It shattered against the marble tile with a loud ringing crash.

The adjoining door to Parker's room flew open. In less than a second, he stood outside the bathroom door.

"Are you okay?"

He was dressed.

She was naked.

And felt stripped of her flesh, bare to her bones.

She fumbled for the towel, careful not to step on the shards of glass.

"Just fine." Not at all. Not even close. But she hid her emotions and gave a cool smile. "Just a bit clumsy this morning," she said as she wrapped the towel around her body. "I'll be ready in a few minutes."

She waved her hand in a pushing motion, as if she could move him out of the room. Out of her heart.

"Bare feet and glass don't mix," he said as he crossed to her and then lifted her in his arms. Her heart slammed in her chest as he set her onto her feet in the middle of the room. His gaze lingered on hers. She held her breath. If he made another move toward her, her resolve would vanish like mist under the hot rays of the sun.

"I thought we could grab a bite of breakfast in the National Gardens." His eyes stayed riveted to hers. "The gate is only half a block from here."

What could he see? What could she hide?

"Breakfast," she said, clutching the towel like a lifeline. "Perfect. See you out front in a few minutes."

"Bring your bag to the front desk," he said. "It'll give us more time to walk the gardens. We can catch a cab without returning to our rooms. I'll let the front desk know about the glass."

"Always the pragmatist," she said. And then muttered a few harsh words to Aphrodite, the Greek goddess of love, as he left the room.

Fifteen minutes later she found Parker waiting outside the hotel entrance when she stepped out into the bright, sunny day. There should've been fog, a mist she could hide in. But the relentless Athenian light lit him as if he were a being who'd stepped down from the heavens.

But she'd prepared herself, decided what to say so she wouldn't slip deeper under his spell. Words had served her all her life, sometimes as her only weapon. With her carefully rehearsed words, she would cage the energy that sparked between them. If she didn't, she'd drown in the emotions threatening to flood her.

She took a deep breath, but silently, not wanting to give herself away. And then she spoke.

"Breakfast is the perfect way to top off our little celebration of last night." Her voice obeyed her, its light tone airy and casual. "All that activity made me hungry." She emphasized the word _activity_ , forcing the word to fence in, to limit and diminish what had happened between them in the night. She had to try. And she sure as hell wasn't hungry.

He lifted a brow. "Celebration?"

"The celebration of our success in getting Kantakos to ante up, to commit to a number. I always like a good physical release after I've accomplished something significant. Something to mark the occasion. Good sex is like champagne, only better. Don't you think?"

He narrowed his eyes. She looked away. She'd hurt him. She'd meant to. But she felt awful anyway.

"The gardens are right through this gate," he said, his voice low.

Had she wanted him to protest? To profess that their night together had been more than sex? To call her a liar and pull her to him and kiss her to reopen the vein that led straight to her heart?

Oh, she did. She wanted, all right. In loving him, she'd sent her wish into the world. And now? Now she had to face reality. Pull back and play the honorable part, the part that respected that he'd been nothing but straightforward with her all along. He didn't owe her. He hadn't dangled promises or lured her with talk of forever or love. It was she who owed him the heroic way out.

The lushness of the garden—the murmuring couples strolling, holding hands and talking in low tones, the women with their children laughing playfully, the scent of spring in the air from the flowering trees—the whole place felt like a set staged for romance, designed to thwart the indifferent scene she'd so carefully scripted.

Parker led her to an outdoor café with an arched roof draped with blooming wisteria. Dappled light played on the tables, along the stones at her feet and on the walls. Other than a bed, it was the most romantic spot for breakfast she could imagine.

But she wasn't going to imagine. She fingered the tube of lipstick in her pocket. She hadn't put any on her lips, but she carried the tube as a talisman. Its peppermint scent was a heady reminder of the alluring, sensual power she had to stand against. The power she would remember but not step back into.

She hushed her thoughts and pulled up more of the lines she'd rehearsed in her hotel room as she'd pulled on her jeans. She scanned the menu and forced herself to order food. And then she asked Parker to tell her about the history of the gardens. But even history wasn't a safe subject. His gentle tones, his insight, his motions and the way he watched her face made her heart ache with the knowledge of what couldn't be.

When the server reached to clear their dishes, Parker put out a hand to stop him.

"She hasn't finished."

"No, it's fine," she said to the server. "I'm done."

"But you've hardly eaten anything. I thought you were starving."

Busted. She could lie and say she'd had a snack in the room. But though she had to succeed in gaining distance from him—couldn't fail—she wasn't going to pile on any more lies.

He glanced behind her and made a waving motion with his fingers. She turned to see an elderly woman dressed in black approaching them, holding out a red rose.

"We seem to have found another gullible tourista spot," Juliet chided in a whisper. Or maybe Aphrodite was deeply intent on torturing her.

Parker accepted the rose and offered the flower to Juliet with a smile that tore at her heart. Her hand trembled as she took it from his fingers. Parker paid the woman, but she didn't leave.

Uninvited, she smiled and sat down in the chair between them. She pulled a deck of cards from the pocket of her skirt and tapped Juliet on the hand. " _Tha po tin týchi sas_."

"I'm not sure I want my fortune told," Juliet answered in Greek.

"I must tell," the woman said. "It is required."

"This will cost me," Juliet said in English with a glance to Parker. She turned back to the woman to say, "How about telling his fortune instead?"

"It's the same," the woman answered. "You, him, it is the same."

The woman's confident words followed by her piercing gaze sent a shiver of foreboding along Juliet's spine.

What did she mean it was the same?

That she and Parker shared fortunes? Shared a future?

# Chapter Twenty-Two

Parker crossed his arms and sat back in his chair. And hoped his Greek was up to understanding both mysterious women sitting in front of him. The elderly woman reached into her pocket and pulled out a string of beads that reminded him of a rosary. She wound the beads around the cards and then whispered a few words he couldn't catch. Juliet stared as if her future really did reside in the woman's cards.

Who could know the vagaries of fortune? He'd once thought that will and reason were reliable guides. Not anymore. The previous night with Juliet had blown his doors off. If a connection to a woman could reprogram wrongheadedness, his night with her had rearranged every cell in his brain.

He'd once heard that the truly beautiful could wake a man up to the needs of the soul. If it was true, he was screwed. Because he was awake, all right. Awake, surrendered and screwed. Every word she'd uttered that morning had sent one message loud and clear: they'd had sex, end of story.

But some part of him didn't want to hear such a truth, didn't want to believe. He'd thought in the depths of the night that he'd read her but now he wasn't so sure.

Until he could come to grips with his feelings, he would give her the space she claimed she wanted, and he'd simply regroup. Giving up wasn't part of his repertoire of habits, yet if he'd been sure she wanted him gone, he would've left already.

But was he lying to himself? Was he just unwilling to face reality?

The gypsy woman unwound the beads and began spreading the cards. Worn at the edges, they were hand-painted, perhaps antique. He recognized some of the images from his sister's tarot deck, but others were unfamiliar.

The woman chanted over the cards and then closed her eyes. His gaze was fixed on the beads lying on the table near the cards. They were the same beads he'd seen for sale at every stall in the Plaka, the commonplace blue orbs with yellow and purple centers that warded off the evil eye. But in that moment it was as if the beads were calling to him, telling him to pay attention.

"The spirit is strong," the woman said in a gravelly voice, drawing him back from his searching thoughts. "But spirits must be entwined. Ah." She smiled. "There is love." But her smile faded as she grimaced. "And danger." Without looking, she turned the Hanged Man card faceup, touched it with her fingertips. "One of you will be a fool. You must know the risks to take. And to succeed you must engage the dark lady."

Juliet took in an audible breath. "Do you mean Doria?" She grasped the woman's hand. "Where is she?"

The woman opened her eyes and drew her hand back. "Names mean nothing in the spirit world." She touched her hand to Juliet's chin and smiled. "Spirit has spoken, _glykó_." She gathered her cards and stood.

Juliet reached out a hand to the woman's arm. "Wait—are you leaving? You can't just leave."

The woman gathered the beads from the table and closed them in Juliet's hand. "I will pray for you."

Clasping the beads, Juliet reached for her backpack with her other hand, but the woman gave a dismissive wave, turned and walked away.

Juliet stared at the beads in her fisted hand. "If you weren't sitting there in front of me and hadn't seen what just happened, I would think I had dreamed this whole thing," she said. "Or hallucinated." She lifted her gaze to his. "Do you think they put something in the coffee?"

"I've heard stories of the gypsies of the gardens. Never thought I'd see one."

"But why us, Parker? There are ten other couples in this café."

"Maybe to follow up on your moonlight visit to the temple last night?"

Color crept up her cheeks. "You set this up, right? I mean, she was impressive, really authentic."

"I didn't set it— _her_ —up."

Her eyes went wide. "Honest? It wasn't another surprise?"

"I'm always honest with you."

She stared at the chair the woman had been sitting in. "Can you remember what she said?"

He did. Every word. Especially the bit about love and danger. "Yes."

"That's a relief, because her words melded into a fuzzy image in my mind." She jumped to her feet. "We have to find Doria. I think she may be in danger."

"We'll find her. And who knows? Maybe Doria _is_ visiting relatives on the mainland."

"Parker?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't lie to me. Please. I couldn't bear it. You don't believe that any more than I do."

"I always consider all angles of a situation. But you're right, I do think it's unlikely that Doria is visiting relatives."

"I'll feel better when we're back on Zantos and can make some headway finding her." She zipped the beads into the pocket of her backpack. "We should head back. I think I left the lights on in my room. I want to have time to run up and check."

"What? The hotel staff will turn them off."

"Oh, no, I _always_ turn off lights. Well, except for maybe this morning. I was... I was in a rush."

She lowered her eyes as if she couldn't bear to look at him. But when she glanced back, her campaigner mask was perfectly in place. "I can't help but see salmon streaming out of the lights—all those power dams blocking their migration are just one hidden cost of all our fabulous easy electricity," she said in her full-on scientist mode.

"Conserving energy is always a good practice." His thoughts were still on the gypsy, the beads, the cards and the woman's disturbing words.

Juliet tapped his forearm, and her touch sent a shock through his body. "Promise me that when we get back to Zantos, you won't hover over me." She gave him the breezy smile that frustrated him. "I need some space."

Her words put more bricks into the wall she was building between them, a barrier as strong as his wish to ignore it.

"Don't forget the danger part of the old lady's message," he said, dodging a direct answer and avoiding making a promise he couldn't keep.

He might be able to give her some semblance of space, of distance. After all, Christos would be trailing her every move. But he couldn't promise not to watch over her.

She dragged the beads from her backpack and held them up against the necklace at her throat. "Hey, I have these, so double protection. No need to worry about me. Better to focus all our energies on the campaign. That is, unless you've changed your mind about helping?"

He shook his head. His mind hadn't changed, but since the _Sommelier_ shoot, since their first kiss, everything else in his life had shifted.

But he couldn't tell her that.

Not yet.

Maybe never. Not until she signaled that she wanted him in her life. Then he'd show her a campaign she'd never forget and a lifetime of love. But this time, the next move truly had to be hers.

# Chapter Twenty-Three

Let me give you a hand with that," Parker said as Juliet struggled to haul the projector out of the back of his Jeep. They had parked in front of Markos's house and were a few minutes early for the meeting Juliet had managed to get the man to agree to.

"Knew there was a reason I had you along," she said, stepping back and allowing him to carry the bulky case.

"Brawn might be my most worthwhile attribute," Parker said.

A half smile curved her lips gently, as if she were holding back the real thing. Fine. He'd take a half smile.

Juliet had been cool toward him for almost two days—since their hot night in Athens. He was almost tempted to ask if he'd said something in the heat of passion that had disturbed her. But the realist in him said she just wasn't one of those women who wanted to be tied down by a relationship, by a man, by anything smacking of sticky emotions. He understood. His emotions were sticking, and he hated the tormenting feeling.

"They make mini-projectors now, but Oceana's equipment has been around for decades. I had to scramble to find an adapter that would work with my computer."

"I'll spring for a new one," he offered.

She stopped on the path leading to the house. "You can't fix everything and everybody, Parker."

Like the rest of her team, she was on edge. If they didn't get the signatures Kantakos required, or if Markos sold his property before the prime minister signed a declaration for the marine park, the Oceana campaign would fail.

He jerked his head toward the house. "Let's focus on success. You can pick my personal philosophy of life apart later. I'll look forward to it."

The truth was, he considered every interaction with her a possible step toward winning her heart.

Markos answered her knock and led them into his living room. The light reflecting off the ocean bathed the room in a soft golden glow.

"What's in the case?" Markos asked.

"My projector. I have some video footage to show you," Juliet said. "I want to show you the underwater beauty that's at stake here."

Parker admired how she was able to keep her voice calm, almost matter-of-fact. Though her acting skills made him question whether she hid her true feelings from him, her talent clearly helped her maintain the poise required for successful diplomacy. From the scowl on Markos's face, he was pretty sure those skills were about to be tested.

"I know what's out there," Markos said, gesturing to the window facing the sea. "I don't need to see video footage." He motioned to his sofa. "Would you like to sit down?"

Parker put the heavy case on the floor beside the sofa and watched for Juliet's cue. She sat, so he did as well.

"Then you know that if the marine park isn't declared, if there's development and unregulated fishing and no nesting beach protection for the _Caretta caretta_ , it will mean the disappearance of the very elements that draw people to Zantos in the first place—what makes life here vibrant and special."

"These troubles face people all over the world," Markos countered.

"Yes, but you could make a difference _here_. Creating a better future is a local activity—one citizen making a difference one right action at a time. You can be one of those people."

"I respect what you want to accomplish, young lady. But you'll have to make a difference someplace else. I have the future of my children and grandchildren to consider. I want them to have good educations. That takes money."

Markos stretched his legs out and winced. "I'm not as young as I once was. I had dreams for this place. You might not believe it, but I considered renovating and making one of those ecotourist-type places. But I don't have the energy or the funds. I have an excellent offer for my land, and I'm going to take it. Besides, the investors are already processing the sale of Doria's property, so why should I hold out?"

"Whoever they are, they're lying to you. Doria would never sell," Juliet said firmly. "She told me so herself."

"Her son is preparing the papers for the sale."

Juliet leaped to her feet. "He can't do that!"

"He has her power of attorney, and he _is_ selling. But you should relax; I've seen the plans. The investors plan a very small hotel, and they'll keep the olive orchards. The complex will have a small footprint. It's the best possible outcome."

"You believe that?"

"I have a draft of the plans." He walked to his desk and unrolled blueprints. "See for yourself."

Parker followed Juliet over to the desk. He slid his phone from his pocket and snapped a photo of the plans.

"As you can see, this project won't have such a negative impact. You can pursue the marine park and the regulations that will affect the activities in the bay and the fishing. It will all be fine."

"It won't be _fine_. Kantakos won't sign the declaration without your support."

"Perhaps in the future he will. When the election is over and Greece reaches better economic stability."

Parker saw the emotion playing in Juliet's face and squeezed her arm. "Who are you negotiating with?" he asked. He wanted facts.

The big man's face colored. "I haven't met the investors. Nikos has been the intermediary and is handling the negotiations for me. I understand there are Greek investors as well as the group from Singapore."

Juliet eyed him. "Would you sign the petition if it didn't impede your sale?"

Markos crossed his arms. "We both know that it's not in the investors' best interests to have the marine park go through before the property sales. There would be too much paperwork, too much red tape. Greece is drowning in red tape, my dear."

"Better than being surrounded by an ocean bereft of life and vibrancy and watching what you love disappear bit by bit," she said, barely controlling her frustration.

"The future is not ours to know," Markos said as he rolled up the plans and secured them with a rubber band.

When she opened her mouth to reply, Parker squeezed her elbow again. "Before you sign, will you meet with us one more time?" he asked.

Markos shot him an eagle-eyed stare. "I cannot make a promise for timing I have no control over. I'm sure you understand."

Half an hour later, after a fruitless visit to Doria's house, Juliet was fuming. Not only had Doria not been at home, her son wasn't either.

"If it weren't ten in the morning, I'd suggest that I take you for a beer and give you time to cool off," Parker said as he threw the Jeep into gear and headed toward the main road.

"There is no way that Doria is selling. Don't you think it's suspicious that no one knows where she's gone? And that Pavlos has disappeared as well?"

"We don't know that Pavlos has disappeared. He just wasn't home."

He glanced in the rearview mirror and saw Christos's car about a tenth of a mile behind him. They didn't both need to be with Juliet, but he hadn't had a chance since returning from Athens to coordinate his schedule with the diligent bodyguard.

She dragged her phone out of her backpack. "I have to swing by headquarters. We're hosting a community event there today. Andreas thinks we'll get another hundred signatures." She slunk down in her seat and let out a long sigh. "I'm starting to wonder if any of this will even matter."

That she'd spoken his thoughts spooked him. But he wasn't going down the road to defeat. "It's possible that if you get overwhelming citizen support, Kantakos won't care if Markos and Doria sign. They're just two among many," he added. "You heard what he said about democracy and numbers."

"Yeah. The two people who just happen to own crucial beachfront property. _And_ have big-shot investors interested in pouring buckets of money into the island economy. Tell me you don't believe those are the real numbers he's counting."

He couldn't tell her that. Kantakos was a shrewd politician. "I think he wants to see the campaign succeed, Juliet."

He felt her fingers on his arm.

"We have four events in the beachfront villages and one at the main harbor today. If we hit five hundred signatures, I'll call Kantakos."

"There's a plan I like."

He parked the Jeep in front of the Oceana office. Tents topped with bright flags blazed in the sun. The big poster of the sea turtle he'd had made stood between the tents.

"Love that poster, Parker."

Her sweet comment sent a warm, fuzzy feeling melting into his chest. He was friggin' losing it. His whole world pivoted around helping Juliet succeed, seeing her happy.

In one tent adults and children were huddled around two long tables. The kids held crayons and, despite their boisterous chatter, were studiously applying color to the pages of coloring books.

"We set up a coloring book contest. The child who wins gets to help release Persa, our now _very_ healthy _Caretta caretta_." She nodded toward the parents encouraging their children to focus. "And their parents get a two-hundred-euro check."

"You get the kids, you get the parents? Clever strategy."

"At this point I'll do whatever gets us results." She grabbed his arm. "There's Pavlos."

Pavlos went rigid as they approached.

"We stopped by your mother's house this morning," Juliet said. "But we missed her."

"She's still visiting her friend."

"I'd like to give her a call."

"She didn't say which friend. And as I told you already, some of them don't have phones. You can catch up with her when she gets back."

"When will that be?"

He slid his eyes from Juliet's piercing stare. "I'm not sure."

A dark-haired girl of about ten walked up to Juliet and flashed a coloring book with sea turtles on the cover. She flipped it open and displayed a brightly colored page. "I'm almost done, Juliet. This is my third page. Can we enter more than one?"

Juliet took the coloring book and studied the page the little girl had shown her. "This is beautiful, honey. But you're only allowed one entry." She turned to Parker. "This is Thalia, Eleni's daughter. Thalia, this is my friend Parker. And this is Pavlos."

The little girl held out her hand and shook Parker's as if she were meeting the president. Parker couldn't help but smile. She smiled back, showing a gap between her two front teeth. Pavlos looked embarrassed as he shook Thalia's hand.

"I'm going to color them all," Thalia said. "Then I'll see which one is best."

"Great idea." Juliet handed the coloring book back to her. Thalia twirled and ran back to the kids at the nearest table.

Juliet whipped around to Pavlos. "Are you selling your mother's home out from under her?"

"Now that's not a very friendly attitude."

" _Are_ you?"

"I always have her best interests in mind," Pavlos said in a stony voice that didn't fit the smile on his face. "And in case you haven't noticed, this island needs more than free coloring books and sea turtles. But why should you care? You're a foreigner. You sail in, stir things up and leave. We have to live here."

"The future of the life on Zantos is _exactly_ why we're helping here."

"We don't need your help." He looked to Parker. "Or his." He stormed off, out of the tent.

"Don't," Parker said, grasping her arm to keep Juliet from following Pavlos.

"But you're right; he knows where Doria is. I could see it in his eyes."

"I'll help you find her."

"How?"

"I have someone I can ask for help."

She studied his face. "I thought you didn't like asking for help. And why so mysterious?"

"When it matters, and when I have the chance to think it through, even I can face my demons."

Emotion he couldn't read played in her face. "That's a strong word," she said.

He dragged a hand through his hair. Juliet made him want to face any challenge if it would make her life better. Facing up to his deeply ingrained anxiety about asking for help was a price he'd pay.

"Maybe too strong," he said, trying to make light of the battle inside him. He turned away and spied Fabia entering the shade of the tent.

"There you are," Fabia said to Juliet. She waved an envelope and smiled. "I'm making a donation. Nikos told me you're having a party to release a rehabilitated turtle soon. I want to help pay for the refreshments."

Juliet recoiled from the envelope Fabia held out.

"Do you understand what you and Nikos have put into play? Oceana will have ten times more rescues and more sea turtle nest disruptions if developers get a hold of Doria's and Markos's properties."

Fabia tapped a manicured fingertip against the envelope. "I thought I explained when I saw you at the party that development is inevitable—and important. I thought we had an understanding." She arrowed the envelope toward Juliet's hand. "Life will go on as it always has. And money is money, is it not? It all spends the same." She glanced around the tent. "Clearly you need more money."

Juliet stared at the envelope.

Parker took it. "Can't ever have enough money," he said, hoping that Juliet heard the sarcasm in his tone but that Fabia didn't.

"I knew you were a reasonable businessman." Fabia tapped a hand just above her heart, making the beads on her bracelet dance. The big diamond engagement ring on her ring finger sparkled. She grinned at Juliet. "You're so fortunate to have a levelheaded partner." With a wave, she turned and walked away.

Juliet grabbed Parker's hand and pulled him out of the tent. "I can't _believe_ you did that. I'll burn that envelope before I use a penny of her money."

"I just wanted to move her along. You have more important things to do today than scrap with someone who's clueless."

He spotted Christos sitting at the taverna next door. If he was going to accomplish what he needed to, he'd need Christos to tail Juliet for the afternoon. He fished the keys to the Jeep out of his jeans.

"I want you to drive the Jeep today. I need to rustle up that help I was telling you about. I'll borrow Andreas's scooter. With any luck, I'll be back to help you with the door-to-door later. But promise me that you'll take Andreas with you this afternoon."

"I don't need Andreas—"

"Do it for me?"

She let out a sigh and nodded. "But only because you asked nicely."

"I've been told honey works better than vinegar."

She parted her lips as an emotion he couldn't read flitted onto her face. But he wasn't going to think about her lips. At least not right then.

"Coloring books too," she said with a nod to the kids intent on their work. "I'll see you later." He watched her as she made her way to the door of the Oceana office.

Of all the women in the world, why the hell did he have to fall for the one woman who wasn't interested in a future with him?

Parker turned away and walked across the road to stand by the beach fronting the bay. Waves lapped gently at the shore, a contrast to the jagged feelings coursing in his chest. He dragged his phone from his pocket and called Christos, watched the man watching him from the patio of the taverna as he answered.

"Didn't want to risk Juliet seeing me with you. There'd be questions."

"Yes," Christos agreed.

"This afternoon she's got several small events like the one going on now. She'll be driving my Jeep; I'm borrowing a scooter. She says she'll take Andreas with her, but I'm not so sure."

"I'll be with her, no worries."

"Text me if you need me. I don't need to know everything she does, just let me know if you see anyone or anything suspicious. I'll check in with you around five."

"Sure thing."

Parker clicked off the call. And wished he could just tell Juliet he'd hired security for her. But she wouldn't understand. She'd accuse him of paranoia. And maybe he was paranoid. But better to be paranoid and have her safe than to ignore the bad feeling in his gut and see her harmed.

He called Santino and thanked him again for finding a bodyguard so competent. He then hauled in a breath and asked for advice about locating Doria. Santino said he could track Pavlos's credit and banking transactions, explaining that following his expenditures might provide clues. Parker agreed that that was a good idea. It was nearly impossible to track activity to and from the island, so he needed another option. The problem with the Greek ferries was that unlike the airlines, there were no passenger rosters. Anyone could easily come and go.

Before he ended the call, Parker asked Santino to check up on Nikos and Fabia as well, get what info he could and to see if he could get any data on the developers, both foreign and local.

He pocketed his phone and scanned the crystal-blue bay. He took a quick self-assessment; his heart wasn't racing. Maybe he was getting better at asking for help.

Zuri would be relieved. But then, his sister hadn't lived through the hell he had. She'd been only three years old when the tragedy of their mother's illness went down. And though he'd explained the facts of those horrifying days to her, she never got it, never understood that watching his mother blindly trust the very man who was killing her with his potions and quack practices had made Parker almost neurotic about relying on anyone's help.

There was nothing worse than seeing the course evil was taking and being helpless to stop it.

But focusing on the past, a past he couldn't change, wasn't productive. And Santino was a man he trusted. Family and integrity—no arguing with those credentials.

He borrowed Andreas's scooter and headed to town. If the investors were still at the Trident, maybe he could get a clerk to talk.

And then he'd get back to Juliet's side. And wait for Santino to turn up what he could. Santino's brief email earlier that day reporting a clean slate on Tulos, the new Oceana volunteer, had at least allowed him to cross the man off his list of worries. Having talked to Tulos a few times at the office, Parker had doubted the man was involved in any wrongdoing, but he was glad to have the affirmation from Santino.

He parked the scooter half a block from the hotel and wound his way through the bustling tourists enjoying the weather and shops in the town square.

The desk clerk at the Trident was close-lipped. They didn't give out information about guests. Hotel policy, the man explained coolly.

Parker ordered a coffee and sat in the lobby pretending to read a newspaper and keeping his eye on the people filtering in and out. No suits, just more tourists laughing and smiling. He felt the creeping gnaw of helplessness eating at the edges of his thoughts. A part of him wanted to whisk Juliet off the island and back to Sonoma. But though he could imagine that script playing out, any plan that didn't focus on helping her succeed at her campaign was unacceptable, no matter how appealing.

His phone rang. He didn't recognize the number.

"Are you free for lunch?"

His throat tightened when he recognized the voice.

"Rachael." Just what he didn't need, then or anytime in the future. "Where are you?"

"On Davido's yacht. In Zantos Harbor. He was up for a lark after we visited Sicily, so we headed here. This is a _lovely_ island; why didn't you tell me what I was missing?"

He scrambled for a reply. "It never occurred to me."

"You left the polo match before we could really talk."

"We talked."

"You were so _vague_. I need to see you, Parker. I'm not leaving this island until I do."

Maybe he had been vague, but Rachael had walked away from _him_. He hadn't felt he owed her an explanation for why he couldn't revive his feelings for her at the snap of her fingers. And he sure didn't need her hanging around Zantos.

"I can be there in ten minutes."

"We're just beyond the cruise ship dock, on the left. I have champagne. See you soon."

Rachael had never understood that left and right had no bearings when it came to ships. But he knew Davido's yacht. Had spent a few nights sailing the Amalfi Coast with him a couple years back.

Rachael met him with a crystal flute of chilled champagne. "It's Krug Clos du Mesnil, one of your favorites."

He took the glass. Sipped. And dreaded the conversation ahead.

Her lips curved as she clinked her glass to his. "I've made an important discovery."

He didn't respond. Rachael was always claiming important discoveries. She might be a hell of a polo player, but off the field? She was as erratic as a billiard ball in a gravity-free environment. There'd been a time when he'd loved her free-spirited attitude. Until she'd bolted out of his life with no explanation, bruising his heart in the process.

"Aren't you going to ask me what I've discovered?"

"I believe you're about to tell me."

"As I told you in Rome at the awards banquet... the men I thought I preferred? Well, it turns out I don't prefer them. I want stability and love. We had both, Parker." She rested her palm against his chest. "We could give it another go."

And Rachael claiming she wanted stability was about as believable as a cheetah wanting to make a life in the ocean.

He took a step away, but she kept her hand on his chest.

"It won't work," he said.

He cared for her, didn't want to hurt her. But she hadn't heard a word of what he'd tried to tell her in Italy. He'd rebuffed her advances as kindly as he could, keeping truth in them. But perhaps his cautious buffer had obscured the truth.

She trailed her fingers up to his shoulder. "I bet I could change your mind. I always could."

"There was a time when you might have. But not now."

Her eyes narrowed. "You've met someone."

"Yes. And I love her."

Rachael drew her hand away and dropped it to her side. She tilted her champagne flute at him. "Lucky woman."

"Look, I care about you. And—"

Rachael flashed her palm at him. "Stop. I made a mistake, the biggest of my life maybe, but it's not on you. I don't want to turn what we had into a maudlin memory or hash it over until I can't remember our spark. I want to hold on to that spark so I'll know if I ever find it again with someone else."

At her words, sadness seeped into him, like a tide coming in and filling his veins. He'd thought he'd loved her once, but since meeting Juliet, he knew he hadn't had a clue about the depths of love back then.

"You'll find love. Or it will find you," he added, surprised at his certain tone. "I've discovered that love finds us when we're ready for it."

"I wish I could be so sure." She narrowed her eyes. "You've changed. Who captured your heart?"

Before he could answer, Bianca, Davido's wife, came down the yacht deck toward them. "Hello, Parker. Imagine meeting you here." She looked to Rachael and winked. "Lunch is ready."

He sat through the lunch. A second glass of champagne took the edge off. Davido was playing the Santa Barbara Open polo match with him in a month, and though it was good to be with old friends, his heart and mind were on Juliet. He told them briefly about the campaign, and Davido, bighearted and generous guy that he was, said he'd make a contribution.

Rachael kissed him on the cheek as they said their goodbyes. On his way down to the dock, he spotted the Oceana volunteers with their clipboards. He had work ahead. And not just for the turtles. Seeing Rachael had made one thing even clearer: he loved Juliet. He couldn't let himself think that he might have to live without her.

His life had been good—truly enviable—but he recognized that he'd held himself as an outsider much of the time, a man who watched others, even contributed, but who never allowed himself to share his heart. To _risk_ his heart. But if Juliet would have him, there was no way he'd go back to that sterile life.

She'd opened his own heart to him. He wouldn't let anything or anyone close it away again.

# Chapter Twenty-Four

The harbor was the last stop on Juliet's rounds of today's campaign events. Her feet ached, but her heart swelled with pride and appreciation. They'd gathered seven hundred total signatures.

A fisherman approached her and Andreas as they checked in with the volunteers at the table they'd set up near the docks.

"I wanted to speak with you. My buddy, the fisherman who rescued you, told me what you said, about the tourist money. About the fishery getting fished out and how tourists would be our lifeline. I just want a life on the ocean; I don't care what I do as long as I'm on the water."

"I'm with you there," Juliet responded, trying to keep the thrill out of her voice. They were getting through to the locals. "And the regulations will ensure that you have more fish, bigger fish, in the future. There will be restrictions, but in the end you'll be far more successful."

"I'm refitting my boat little by little so I can take tourists out. Costs money, you know."

Right then she decided what she'd do with Fabia's donation.

"Stop by the Oceana office tomorrow. We have a fund to help you with those retrofits."

He thanked her and trotted off.

"Fabia's donation?" Andreas asked.

"Yes."

He lowered his sunglasses and peered at her over the rim. "Thought you weren't going to use her money."

"Desperate times call for desperate measures. And a little creativity."

She looked out at the harbor. And her heart stopped. She saw Rachael Meyer on the deck of a very expensive-looking yacht. With Parker. And they were kissing. A white scarf trailed in the breeze behind Rachael, making the two of them look like a poster for a romance. Or in this case, a horror story.

She made herself turn away. "Andreas, would you take over for me?"

"You okay?"

"There's something I need to do back at the office. Eleni can give you a ride back, if that's okay with you."

"Sure, boss." He peered at her. "You sure you're okay?"

"Stop worrying. We have seven hundred signatures, Andreas. _Seven hundred_. Start planning that release. We'll celebrate with or without a declaration. The people of Zantos and our volunteers deserve it." Only self-discipline kept emotion out of her voice.

She practically ran to the Jeep. Her hands shook as she shoved the key into the ignition. She wouldn't look back. She'd seen enough. _Stupid, stupid, stupid_ , a voice cackled in her head. She flicked the radio dial; her once-favorite Greek love ballad blared. She twisted it off so roughly that the dial came off in her hands. She threw it to the floor.

The trembling in her body made her arms shake. Unable to stop the image of Rachael and Parker from playing over and over in her mind, she headed to her cottage. She'd be of no use at the office, and she sure didn't want to talk to anyone right then.

If anything revealed her true feelings for Parker, it was the heartbreak shattering through her. She couldn't lie to herself any longer. Pain, that reliable Fathometer, sounded the depths of her heart, returning its undeniable, echoing signal.

She'd fallen too far.

The boundary she'd erected was false. She'd let him in, and there was no going back.

Gripping the steering wheel, she dodged the ruts on the last few hundred yards of the drive leading to her cottage. She'd go over the campaign plans and make sure she hadn't forgotten any important detail and then... And then what?

Then she had to begin the work of letting go. But letting go of anything wasn't her strong suit. And letting go of love? Her roiling stomach shouted its answer.

She curled up on her bed and pulled the pillow over her head, but couldn't shut out the clamor. How could life on an idyllic island be so noisy? But it wasn't the outdoor sounds that irritated. Her thoughts banging up against her feelings were making all the racket.

Think.

She needed to think.

She had tools in her emotional toolbox, self-soothing practices she relied on. Compassionate distraction was a way to be kind to herself, wasn't it? She hugged her arms around her chest, and the pillow fell from her face. Her eyes rested on her violin. An even better idea. She'd soothe, reset and revitalize playing the music she loved. That always worked.

But before she could open the case, her cellphone vibrated in her pocket. She debated whether to look at the screen, but couldn't resist. Some self-deluding force made her wish it was Parker.

It was Zuri.

"Yo. How are things in paradise?" Zuri asked with a soft chuckle.

No use telling Zuri what had happened. Not now. Maybe someday.

"We got seven hundred signatures." That bit was a truth. If only the announcement made her feel better. What sort of angry God designed the human brain to put feelings about relationships above major accomplishments?

"Awesome," Zuri said. "When's the celebration?"

"Next Wednesday."

"Headed that way. Book me a hotel for Wednesday and Thursday."

"You can stay with me. Or in your brother's RV. It's parked in front of my place."

"Um, should I say good for him? Sounds like he's finally learning to keep his hands to himself where my intelligent, beautiful friends are concerned."

Juliet let that go by. Thinking about where Parker's hands were—or weren't—made her want to wail. "We might not get the declaration," she said, quickly changing the subject. "The prime minister wants some key people to sign, and they won't. Well, one of them won't. The other seems to have vanished." She told Zuri about Doria's disappearance.

"Be careful, Juliet. I want you back. And Jackie Brandon does too. I heard from Alex that she wants you to take over for her at the rescue center and marine lab in Albion Bay while she's out on maternity leave. I bet she'll contact you any day now."

"Holy crap."

"Not the response I was expecting."

"Not the news _I_ was expecting. It'd be a dream job, even if it's just temporary."

"And I'd have you nearby for a while, for capers," Zuri said in an impish tone. "Sounds like you already need another reminder about how to have fun."

Tornadoes could be wreaking havoc all around, and Zuri would find a way to be positive and look at the bright side.

"I'll count on a lesson next time I'm with you," she said.

"I'll be there on Wednesday," Zuri said. "Prime minister or no prime minister."

After Juliet clicked off, she stared at the screen and then shoved her phone back into her pocket. She walked to the little dresser in the corner and fingered the violin case.

What she needed wasn't words or self-talk, not even her blessed music, but action.

She dragged open the drawer of her dresser and pulled out the threatening letters. Parker had been reluctant to give them back to her, but she'd insisted.

She pulled a ceramic bowl out from the cabinet beside her kitchen stove and then lit the letters over the stove's flame. The acrid smell of burning paper and ink filled her nose. She watched the pages flame and burn, the ashes dropping as dark curls into the smooth white bowl.

When the flame reached her fingertips, she let go of the last fragment and watched it flutter, still burning, into the bowl. Wrapping both hands around the bowl, she carried it out to her terrace. She dug a hole under the oldest of the olive trees and, after making sure the ashes were cool, she buried them.

Her knees pressed into the cool earth below the tree. "If there are spirits in these orchards, let them remove all obstacles to our path for the campaign," she said, surprising herself. She normally didn't believe in prayer. Or spirits. But since the night at the Parthenon, since the reading from the gypsy in the gardens— _since making love with Parker_ —she now believed in both.

But she wouldn't pray for Parker's love. Free will was free will, and he'd already expressed his. She sure didn't want to win a man by trickery or deceit or prayers.

Her cellphone rang again. This time, as she answered, she made herself banish the wish that it might be Parker.

"Juliet, it's Eleni. Where are you?"

"At my cottage."

"Did you see my text?"

"No."

"Those investors?" Eleni said breathlessly. "Those plans Parker downloaded from the photo on his phone, the ones that Markos showed you? Those aren't the plans, Juliet. I saw the _real_ plans when I was putting fresh towels in the developers' suite. They're planning a golf course and a thirty-story hotel right between Doria's and Markos's places."

"Where are they now?"

"The plans?"

"The men."

"They've gone out to dinner—a Westside taverna is what they said. Nobody ever thinks hotel maids have brains or ears, you know."

She wasn't going to ask Eleni to steal the plans; she could end up in jail. "Can you get me a key card to their room? I need to see those plans."

"I have to pick Thalia up from her dance class. But I can leave a key card for you. I'll drop it into the planter in front of the hotel. But, Juliet?"

"Yes?"

"Be careful. There's a gun in their room. And it's loaded. I wish I had a phone with a camera and I could do this for you."

"I'll be super careful, Eleni. I'll just snap a shot of the plans and leave. I promise."

She was going to steam ahead and get on with the campaign. The pain that had racked her earlier was exactly why she had sworn off men in the first place: she had a job to do.

And what came next would be a vital element of that job.

_Consider the unexpected_ , her dad used to say. Well, if she showed the real plans to Markos, he just might change his mind. There was only one way to find out.

She considered phoning Parker but decided against it. No reason for both of them to risk being caught.

Feeling like a character out of one of her brother's beloved suspense novels, she changed into a simple blue T-shirt and jeans; no use drawing attention she didn't need. She tucked her hair into a baseball cap and checked herself in the mirror. At the last minute she grabbed her red lipstick from the dresser and popped it into her pocket.

She knew she'd be silly to consider that the odd talisman could confer powers, but so what if the black and gold lipstick tube reminded her of a happier time and gave her courage? At that point she'd take whatever worked. She strapped on her backpack and flipped off the lights.

It took her only a few minutes to reach the hotel, and the key card was where Eleni had left it in the hotel planter. The lobby of the Trident crawled with guests, and the bar was overflowing with partying tourists, so no one took any notice of her. But while waiting for the elevator, she saw a man's reflection in the polished door. It was the same man she'd noticed down at the harbor earlier in the day. He could be a tourist, but to see him twice in one day?

When the elevator doors opened, she watched his reflection. When he didn't move, she hopped on and ducked over to the side, hiding herself.

To her relief, he didn't get on with her.

The developers' suite was at the end of the hall on the seventh floor. She willed her hands steady and knocked softly. If they came to the door, she'd run. But no one answered. She keyed the door and slipped into the room.

Lights blazed from every fixture. Conservation wasn't on anyone's mind, that much was clear. She spied the table in the next room and the plans spread out across its surface. Her legs felt rubbery as she stepped into the room. Finding no one there, she quickly snapped photos of the plans with her phone. But she knew the resolution wasn't great. It would be so much better if she could show Markos the real plans, show him the lie in its full-size rendition. With a swift move, she swallowed down her scruples about stealing, rolled up the plans and tucked them under her arm.

She held her breath. What was she expecting, some guy to come crashing in wielding a gun and demanding the plans? She chalked her jangling nerves up to watching too many viewings of _The_ _Bourne Identity_ on long airplane flights.

The hallway was quiet as she peered out. But the bell signaling the elevator rang. She stepped back into the doorway. Her heart leaped in her chest when the same man she'd seen twice that day got off. He went down the hall the opposite way. She dashed to the stair exit and eased the door soundlessly closed behind her. With careful steps, she hurried down to the ground floor and out to Parker's Jeep.

All she could think about was locking the plans in the safe at Oceana headquarters before anything could happen to them. Now she had an ace in the hole.

She saw the man exit the hotel and walk to his car. Blue sedan, she registered. Was she being paranoid? As she pulled into the street, she saw the sedan ease away from the curb. Either she was paranoid, or she was in trouble.

He stayed several cars behind her, but after she took two quick turns around the square, she was sure he was following her.

She sped toward the main road but at the last minute turned off onto the side road that led to Laganas Bay. When she rounded the next bend, she pulled onto the country lane leading up to Doria's. She switched off the lights and said a silent prayer that the dwindling daylight and the thick olive grove would hide the bright yellow Jeep.

In the rearview mirror she saw the blue sedan zoom by. And then she waited. Time seemed to stand still, and only the rapid beat of her heart let her know it was indeed passing. She gave it three minutes by the dash clock, and then she spun the Jeep around, peeled out onto the lane and headed for the Oceana office.

No one followed her. When she reached the office, she leaped out of the Jeep and ran inside. She flipped on a light in the front room as she dropped her backpack off her shoulders. She hurried to the silver-blue metal box beside her desk and squatted in front of it. A few quick turns of her wrist and she had the safe open and the plans safely stowed inside.

The sound of the front door opening had her freezing in place. The crew and volunteers wouldn't be back for another hour at least, but maybe it was Parker.

She turned. And the smile froze on her face as two men walked toward her.

"Can you give us directions?" the shorter man asked. He stepped closer. She stood and backed against her desk. His companion scanned the back room and then walked closer, crowding her, until he was practically touching her. She felt something hard poke into her ribs.

"If you make any noise, I'll shoot you," he said in heavily accented English. She smelled garlic on his breath. And alcohol.

She looked down. He held a gun to her chest.

The other man pulled a plastic bottle of gray liquid from a pocket in his jacket. "Drink this."

Like hell she would.

She didn't move to take the bottle. She didn't move at all. The short man pressed the gun into her ribs and wiggled it against her bones. "If you ever want to see your man Parker again, you'll drink."

_They had Parker._ Or were they bluffing? There was no way to know. Neither man was the burly guy who'd followed her from the hotel.

God, she couldn't gamble with Parker's life. The cold look on the man's face told her that she might not be the only one paying for her impulsive actions. Her hands trembled as she took the bottle. Poison? But why would they bring guns and poison? Could she run? Scream? The tall man yanked her hair, snapping her head back. He pushed his other hand against her mouth and squeezed hard enough to bring tears to her eyes.

"We can hurt you both," he said. He squeezed her jaw again, scratching her cheek with his nails. "Drink."

The liquid was sweet but she could taste the acrid tang of some drug. She tried not to swallow.

The short man pushed the gun into her ribs again. Pain shot into her belly and she gasped, spewing liquid onto his arm.

The scar on the taller man's face rippled with his sick grin. "Don't care much about your friend?"

_Parker_. "If I drink this, will you let him go? He doesn't have anything to do with"—she weakly waved one arm—"this."

"No questions," the man with the gun barked.

Juliet shuddered, but she took another sip and swallowed.

"All of it," the man with the scar said, pushing her arm toward her face.

She drained the bottle, her mind fighting for a plan at the same time. "I have to go to the bathroom."

"The ferry leaves in half an hour," the scar-faced man said in Greek to his companion, obviously assuming she didn't understand the language.

The man with the gun lifted a shoulder and nodded toward the bathroom door. "Leave the door open. And if you're not out in one minute, I will shoot you."

From the look on his face, she was sure he meant it. Dying in a heap in the Oceana bathroom was not the way she wanted to end her life.

In the bathroom she angled the door so she had some privacy. She stuck her fingers down her throat but couldn't bring up the liquid. She flushed the toilet, stalling, and then ran water in the sink. And then she remembered the lipstick. She pulled it out, uncapped the tube and wrote the words _ferry_ and _help me_ across the mirror in big red letters. It was the only clue she could think of.

"Enough time," one of the men grunted from outside the door. There was no lock on the door, so trying to barricade herself inside wouldn't do anything. And she was beginning to feel light-headed as a wave of nausea shuddered in her belly.

She walked between the men to a black sedan. Did bad guys always drive black cars, she found herself thinking. Words and sounds took on strange shapes. Wait, sounds didn't have shapes. She drifted in and out of wondering about the shapes of sounds until a dim fogginess crept through her brain and she had to fight to follow a single thought. Her eyelids were heavy. A strange calm settled in her chest as she let her eyes droop shut.

She was startled out of the dark calm when they dragged her from the car. She'd felt so peaceful. Why wouldn't they let her stay in that sweet, peaceful place?

Yet as the breeze hit her face and her feet hit the ground, the fuzzy blanket that had smothered her thoughts lifted. The cool evening air must've revived a brain cell or two, since she was able to focus a little.

"I can't walk," she said, eyeing the ferry dock in the distance and hoping to buy some time. It was nearly true.

One man tightened his grip on her shoulder. "You can walk. And any attempt you make to call attention, any screwup, and we shoot your boyfriend."

"He's not my—"

They jerked her forward so hard and so fast that she thought she'd tumble. But the men were strong and probably professionals. Her mind wandered again, and she fought to focus. A voice prompted her to scream, to struggle. But all she could think about was keeping Parker alive.

# Chapter Twenty-Five

Parker went straight from Davido's yacht and the disturbing interaction with Rachael back to the hotel. He approached the new clerk behind the desk but got the same answer: no information was ever given out about guests.

He checked his watch. Four fifteen. He phoned Santino, hoping that he wouldn't mind a call at six in the morning.

"Any news?" He knew Santino's contacts worked all hours.

"Not any you're going to enjoy hearing."

Santino wasn't one for dramatics, so Parker braced at his pause.

"Pavlos Vardakastani is on the run from gambling debts he racked up in Australia. And we tracked a credit card payment he made to a home for Alzheimer's patients."

Parker heard the keys of Santino's keyboard clicking.

"It's not far from Patras. Does the old lady have dementia?"

"Not a lick."

"I rather thought not. He's not the first son to commit a parent in order to get at his inheritance early. I'm texting you the address."

Parker swallowed hard. "Could you send someone to get her?"

"Yes. Consider it done."

Help, just like that. And he knew Santino well enough not to gush his thanks. But he felt gratitude.

"What about the guys representing the Singapore interests?" Parker asked, moving on. "The developers?"

"No sign of any big investor activity on Zantos. No big money in or out. I didn't find anything suspicious about Nikos. But his fiancée, Fabia Nevrakou, has some very expensive habits and tastes. Could make a man desperate for funds."

"But?"

"Hard to say. We'll dig a little deeper into his background. Fabia's father is heavy into real estate and owns several television stations and magazines in Greece. But from what I could find, he's clean. Ruthless, but clean. By the way, do you still have the letters?"

"Juliet has them."

"Good. Overnight them to me, and I'll have a look. Any activity today?"

"No, but the day isn't over."

"A nail in a tire and a couple of letters aren't too alarming. Could've been just a couple of radical islanders who don't like foreigners."

"But the boat? The emptied gas tank?"

"Did it occur to you that Juliet is stressed?" Santino said. "She might've forgotten to fill it and then forgot that she forgot. Stress can bend the mind."

"I know the facts don't add up to much," Parker admitted. "But I have a bad feeling in my gut."

"Then trust your gut." Santino paused. "You must like this woman quite a bit."

"Some days I wish I didn't."

Santino chuckled. "I'll be expecting a wedding, in that case."

"Not funny."

"Wasn't meant to be. I know what it is to love a woman as much as life itself."

Santino had lost his wife, the mother of the Italian Tavonesi clan, to a long battle with cancer only a few years before. No one could forget Abigail. Even Parker missed her with an ache that wouldn't be soothed.

"I'll be calling you for advice on love next."

"Harder than providing facts about basic financial tracking. Not sure I'd be of any use. Love has its own path and doesn't care for our well-laid plans." Parker heard his deep sigh. "In any case, I'll call you later today if we turn up anything that might be of help."

"Thank you."

"Glad to help."

Parker stared at the phone. _Help_. For the first time in his life, the word didn't send shivers into his soul.

Well, at least he knew Doria would be rescued from her undeserved prison. And he'd bet that a few direct questions would make Pavlos fess up to his heartless efforts to turn a quick profit. And then Juliet would have one of the key signatures that Kantakos required.

But he'd wait and make sure the rescue mission was successful before he told Juliet about Doria. If it failed, or if Doria wasn't where they thought she was, the news would crush her.

Though the Sonoma property was the last thing on his mind, Parker answered several emails from his estate managers and approved the purchase order for new fermentation barrels. He needed to get back to Sonoma to deal with the vineyard and his estate. And he would. As soon as he took care of what he'd come to Greece to accomplish.

But what he'd come for had changed so radically, he could barely admit it to himself. Sure, he wanted Doria rescued and the campaign to succeed. But more than that? He wanted Juliet in his life any way he could have her.

Dusk was settling in, dimming the bright light of day. He decided to forgo making the rounds of the volunteer events and see if he could catch Juliet at home.

His Jeep wasn't parked at the cottage. He parked the scooter he'd borrowed from Andreas beside Juliet's little white one. Though there were no lights on in the cottage, he knocked. No answer.

His cell rang. Christos. Good. He'd know where to find her.

But Christos's hurried story had him heading back to the scooter.

"I followed her into the Trident," Christos reported. "Lost her for a few minutes in the hallways but then saw her leaving and followed her out of town. But then I lost her again in a dead spot." He paused as if considering his words. "I put a tracker on her phone. And one on your Jeep. Should've gotten your approval."

"Glad you didn't bother. Do you have a signal now?"

"Two signals. I'm sending you the link to an app that will register on your phone. Blue signal is her phone, the red one is your Jeep."

"Okay, I have the app. Can you track me by my phone too?"

"If you're in range of a cell tower."

"Good. I'll follow the signal on my Jeep since I'm closer, and you go after her phone."

"Sure you don't want me to go with you?"

"No. Split up as a precaution. Maybe Andreas has the Jeep, maybe she does. I'll call you. As you discovered, there are a few dead spots on the island. But we'll have to work with what we've got. If you don't find her, come find me."

"Roger that."

Parker dialed Juliet but got her message service. Same with Andreas. Maybe they were both out of range. The signal Parker was following was near the Oceana office, but stationary. Fueled by anger and fear, he nearly spun out on a rut in the road. _Focus_. There probably wasn't anything wrong, and he wouldn't be of use to anybody if he broke his damned leg by not paying attention.

But the feeling in his gut was hollering loud and clear.

His Jeep was parked at the Oceana office. The lights blazed, so Juliet must be inside.

He called her name. Silence met him. He called again. There was no sign of a problem, no sign of anyone.

He spotted Juliet's backpack. She never left it behind. And then he saw the light on in the bathroom.

One of her earlier declarations sounded in his head.

" _I_ always _turn off lights, Parker."_

He swallowed, but the lump rising in his throat as he approached the bathroom door only got bigger.

He threw the door open. No Juliet. Of course no Juliet. She would've heard him call out.

Then he saw the message on the mirror. In red lipstick. _Ferry. Help me._ The words shot a chill of fear to his gut.

He jumped into his Jeep and took off for the harbor. As soon as he had a signal again, he called Christos.

"Found her phone beside the main road," Christos immediately said. "I searched nearby, but there's no sign of anyone."

"Meet me at the ferry," Parker said. "Someone has her." He filled him in on the message scrawled on the mirror at the office.

"Move slowly, Parker. Don't let the adrenaline drive."

"I'm in the Jeep, so you can track me."

"You should still be careful. I'm used to this, you're not. You're about eight minutes ahead of me. They might be armed."

It would help if he knew who the hell he was battling.

Santino had warned him about Pavlos, but this didn't seem to be the work of a small-minded loser.

Parker drove as close as he could get to the ferry dock, zigzagging through the throng of tourists promenading along the waterfront.

He parked and jumped out of the Jeep.

Then he saw them—two men holding a woman between them were just boarding the ferry.

He raced up the dock.

A steward strong-armed him at the ferry door. "Where's your ticket?"

"I'll just be a minute," Parker said, gesturing toward the throng of passengers inside. "I'll be right back."

"That's what they all say. No ticket, no ferry."

He considered punching the guy, but just as he raised his arm, another burly steward ran up to them.

"Trouble?"

"He doesn't have a ticket."

The guy grabbed him and spun him around. "We don't want trouble on our boat. Go buy a ticket like everybody else."

Parker broke the man's hold. "Those men have my wife!" He pointed across the main salon of the ferry. The crowd had impeded the kidnappers' progress.

The second steward looked at him. "Well, you should've said so." He parted the crowd with his body. "Make way. This man has to retrieve his wife."

Juliet turned toward him. Her eyes didn't look right. She stumbled, and one of the men yanked her back up. Parker saw the protrusion from the guy's pocket—where his hand was hidden—sticking into her ribs. His anger fired as his brain scrambled for the safest move to make to rescue Juliet.

They couldn't shoot her in the middle of a crowded ferry. The best thing he could do was get the crowd on his side.

"Those men have my wife," he shouted, pointing. "Give me my wife."

The men holding Juliet exchanged rapid words. He caught the gist of their conversation: they'd been hired to get her on the ferry; they'd been paid, done their job; they hadn't been paid to go to jail.

They let go of Juliet, and she began to topple. Her eyes went wide when he grabbed her, and then he lifted her in his arms.

"It's okay," he said to a woman who looked concerned and tried to stop him. "This is my wife."

Juliet looked up at him. "I'm not your—"

He cut off her words with a kiss, and the crowd applauded.

"You will be," he whispered. "If there's a benevolent force in the universe."

Christos ran up to him.

"They have guns," Parker said in a low voice to Christos. "Let's just get her out of here."

Parker filled him in as he carried Juliet toward the Jeep.

"She's been drugged," Christos said. He smelled her breath and then looked at her eyes. "Probably ketamine or Rohypnol. But I'm not sure."

Juliet's head lolled back against his chest.

"Should I take her to a hospital?"

"It should wear off in a few hours. Just don't let her wander off. Her judgment's impaired." He eyed Parker. "The men?"

Parker glanced at the departing ferry. "Disappeared into the crowd on the ferry."

"Gone for good then. The area around the Killini ferry dock is a warren of streets and alleys. But I could call the cops; maybe they can eye the passengers as they depart. What did the men look like?"

Parker grimaced. "Like every other Greek guy over thirty on that boat."

"How about their clothing?"

"One guy had a hooded sweatshirt. I don't even remember the color, I was so focused on Juliet."

"Good thing you're not a PI."

Juliet moaned. "Parker, put me down. I feel sick."

Reluctantly he set her on her feet, steadying her just seconds before she bent down and threw up on the asphalt.

Parker used the sleeve of his jacket to wipe off her face. With Christos's help, he lifted her into the Jeep. He grabbed a bottle of water from under the passenger seat and offered it to her, but she refused and collapsed back against the seat.

"I'll camp out at the entrance to her lane tonight," Christos offered.

"No, stay in my RV. I'll be staying in the cottage."

"Good man."

Parker snugged the seat belt around Juliet. "I need to get her to bed. See you back at the ranch." He extended his hand. "You've saved more than you know."

Christos nodded as he clasped Parker's hand in an iron-hard grip. "Goes with the job."

Parker sat by Juliet's bedside in the cramped bedroom of her cottage. She'd slept fitfully in the night. He'd held her in the small bed, but at dawn had moved to the chair beside it, hoping she might sleep late into the morning. Scrolling through and answering emails, directing activities back at his vineyard in Sonoma, didn't distract him from worry. And his conversation bringing Andreas up to speed hadn't helped. It'd been all he could do to tell her anxious colleague to wait until later in the day and give Juliet a chance to recover before visiting.

Her eyes opened as she stirred.

"Parker?"

She struggled to push herself up. He rushed to her side and lifted her against the pillow.

"My head hurts."

He grabbed the glass of water he'd placed on the bedside table. "You were drugged." He held the glass out. "Have a sip of water."

She took the glass, sipped and coughed, spilling the water down her chin.

"Drink slowly. The effects of the drug may not have fully worn off."

She sipped again. And then she peered at him over the rim of the glass. "I must look terrible."

"You look as beautiful as ever." It was true. In the soft morning light with her red-gold hair spread back against the pillows, she looked like an angel. A very vexing but lovely angel. _His_ angel, if the forces of the universe had any compassion and would help him make his deepest wish come true.

"Don't lie to me, Parker."

He let out a long breath. "You have circles under your eyes," he said, realizing she looked better than she felt.

"What happened?"

"Maybe you should have some coffee first, wake up." He offered her a sip from his mug. "It's not hot, but it's strong."

She giggled. "Like you."

The drug definitely had left a residue. But he took in her compliment all the same.

She frowned. "I don't like coffee."

"I couldn't find your stash of tea."

She took a sip of the coffee. "I need to know, Parker."

"Later. Give yourself a chance to wake up."

"No. I need to know what happened last night."

"What do you remember?"

She scrunched her hair with one hand and then sipped again. He watched her throat as she swallowed. When she let out a long breath and smiled, he realized he'd been holding his.

"I remember you screaming that I was your wife."

She _would_ remember that part. "They didn't want to let me on the ferry. Luckily, the Greeks still have an affinity for both romance and drama."

"And there was a man, at the hotel. I eluded him and made it to the office. But two men came in. They had guns. Did they hurt Persa?"

"They weren't after the damned turtle."

Her gaze locked on his. "What _were_ they after?"

Truth now or truth later. He chose now. "You."

"They told me they had you. That they would hurt you. I was so afraid."

"They lied. But don't you _ever_ go risking your life for mine."

"You'd do it for me. You did."

Her hand holding the glass trembled. He took it from her and placed it on the table. "I'm not going to argue with you right now. You're in an impaired state, and it'd be an unfair win."

She didn't laugh at his attempt at levity. With a heaving sigh, she closed her eyes. "All of it, Parker. I want to know all of it." She opened her eyes and gestured toward him. "Who were they?"

"That's what I'm trying to find out." He didn't want to tell her that in choosing to get her to safety, he and Christos had to let the guys disappear into the crowd. "They got away on the ferry. I'm afraid I didn't register enough details about their appearance for the police to catch them."

Her face clouded. "The plans!" She tossed back the covers and threw her legs over the side of the bed. "I got the plans. From the hotel. Oh, Parker—maybe they took the plans. I have to call Andreas."

He steadied her as she got to her feet. "Maybe after breakfast? Nothing will change between now and then. I filled Andreas in on what happened, but I didn't know about the plans."

"You don't understand—I have to _know_." She told him what she'd seen on the plans. "If we show them to Markos, there's no way he'll trust the developers."

Parker wasn't so sure. Though Parker had glimpsed uncertainty in Markos when Juliet pleaded the case for the marine park, the man had made it pretty clear that he was in the deal for the money.

He held out his arm.

She shook her head. "I'm not an invalid." But after an unsteady step, she reached for him. "Sheesh, I am a bit dizzy. And my head feels like someone's been jackhammering my brain."

He resisted the urge to smooth his hand over her head, to trace the furrow between her brows. "I bet."

With every step toward the table in her living room, she became steadier. Her strength astonished him. Drugged, then kidnapped, and all she could think about was her mission. And he loved her for it.

He made toast and sliced tomatoes while she called Andreas.

"The plans are still in the office safe," she said as she joined him at her kitchen counter. "I don't have any eggs."

He held out the blue glass plate. "Toast, olive oil and tomatoes. Breakfast of ancient Greek champions."

She took the plate, and her fingers brushed his. She didn't draw her hand away as she looked up at him.

"Are you sure you didn't hire those guys to make a point? To get me to take your warning to heart?"

"Hell of a way to make a point, Miss Cabot."

He was excruciatingly aware of the heat of her touch. As he'd held her in the night, he'd sworn he'd do everything in his power to be able to have her beside him every night. Everything except coerce her. She had to come to him on her own.

"Can we find out who those guys were? Who hired them?"

"I'll let you know what I find out."

"I want to _help_ , Parker." She squinted at him. "Regardless of your aversion to accepting assistance."

"Eat. I'll let you help. But eat first. You have a campaign to finish up. Andreas told me you now have over a thousand signatures."

Her face brightened. "And maybe now, with the real plans, we have the ammo to sway Markos." She took a bite of toast. "But what about Doria? You said you'd find Doria."

He stuck to his resolution to wait to tell her about Doria until he heard from Santino. Or until the man Santino had hired showed up, hopefully with the feisty old lady in tow.

"I'm working on Doria. Will you trust me on that one?"

The hand that held her toast paused in midair. "I trust you, Parker. Maybe more than I should."

"I'll take that as a qualified yes then."

She nodded and bit into the toast. "This might be the most delicious breakfast I've had in my life."

"Flattery works very well with me," he said with a laugh. Her color was returning. He pushed a glass of water toward her. "Hydrate."

"You sound like my brother. That's all he talks about."

"Smart man. Limiting subjects keeps a guy out of hot water."

"Hot water," she repeated. "I need a shower. I think I'll feel better after a shower."

"Promise you won't run off."

"Oh, I promise."

"Yeah, well, I hope you don't mind if I sit on your front step, just in case."

"You don't trust me? I gave my word, Parker." She leaned her palms onto the table. "I'm not out to deceive you. Or anybody, for that matter."

"You have a damned strange way of proving it. You could've been upfront with me about your hotel break-in plans." But he admired her for going after what was important to her.

"It wasn't like I planned all that. Eleni called me and I saw an opening, an opportunity. So I acted."

"I get that. But maybe get a little more comfortable asking for help?"

" _You're_ one to talk about asking for help. When things calm down, I want to hear why."

"Maybe. In the meantime, I'm still going to be sitting on your front step until you're out of the shower."

She frowned. "I need some space, Parker. That okay with you? Half an hour. To... to process all that's happened. We might not make the deadline Kantakos set. I need to think."

He hated the look of defeat in her eyes. But if he were her, he'd need time to process too.

"Half an hour. You know where I'll be."

Parker sat on the cold stone of her front step. Heard the shower. He walked to the RV and told Christos to stay put until they were ready to head over to Doria's. He had more than a bone to pick with Pavlos. It was a good thing he was taking Christos. He would keep him from mangling Doria's low-life son.

But he hadn't yet figured out a good way to break the news about Christos to Juliet. Dreaded doing it, in fact.

He walked back to her porch, leaned against the pillar and closed his eyes. But the warmth of the sun didn't calm his racing thoughts. What wasn't he seeing? His gut told him the solution to the puzzle of the threats to Juliet was right in front of him, but he wasn't understanding the clues.

A few minutes went by and yet his thoughts weren't getting any clearer. He heard Juliet moving about in her cottage and, respecting her request for some time to process her thoughts, fought the urge to check on her. Ten minutes later, he heard the plaintive sound of a violin. The notes flowed not to his ears but slipped hauntingly into his soul. He walked around the cottage and stood in the shadows of an olive tree. Juliet sat in a folding chair, her eyes closed, drawing the bow across her violin.

Each note wafted on the breeze and landed smack in his soul. He'd heard the Beethoven concerto, had once thought he knew its depth. But as her bow moved across the strings and her fingers trembled with her breath, he knew he'd never before known the full power of any music.

He wanted to race to her, to wrap her in his arms, but the tears falling down her cheeks ripped anger into his gut and had him holding still. The slump of her shoulder and the shallow breaths as her tears fell were undeniable signals of defeat. Or trauma. Or both.

He wouldn't live in a world where a soul like hers would be dimmed by greed and violence.

He couldn't.

It took all his control to stand there, to allow her time and space for her release as she played. And he knew then with a clarity he'd never before had that he was hers. No matter what happened between them, she would own his heart forever.

She glanced up as if his thundering thought had cracked through the notes she played and broken the spell of the music.

"I didn't see you there." She lowered the violin and swept a hand under her eyes. "I was just practicing." She shuddered as she hauled in a shaky breath. "I'm sorry, Parker. Sorry to have put you to so much trouble, to have—"

He didn't let her finish. In seconds he was across the gravel path and lifting her in his arms. The violin dangled from her hand as the bow clattered to the stone below.

He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to roll back time, to erase the trauma of the night and of the past weeks. But he wouldn't want to erase what he now knew. He wanted her in his life, whatever it took.

But as heaving sobs shook through her, he knew now was not the time for such confessions. With swift strides, he carried her into the cottage and sat her on her small couch. He took the violin from her hand and gently placed it on the table. Then he sat beside her, wishing that somewhere in all his damned experience he had learned something that could erase her pain.

She gasped out a sob. "I shouldn't have called you. I was a fool to think we could pull off this campaign. I knew the economic climate of Greece. There's no way we can—"

"Shhhh. You're in shock."

"I have to face the truth. We can't win this one."

"You can't just give up. You're almost at the finish line."

"In what world, Parker? Tell me that, in what world? _I'm_ the one who told you that you can't save everything and everybody, remember? I should take my own advice."

"Remember who you _are_ , Juliet. If you let this setback get you down, they win. You have a power so far beyond what you know. Keep your focus on what you have to give, on what you _can_ do. If you don't do what your heart, what your soul, drives you to do, you're only taking up space on the planet."

She raised her head and sniffed. "That's supposed to make me feel better? Good thing you're not a doctor—your bedside manner sucks."

He laughed. And her slight smile was like the sun breaking through clouds after a storm. But with her next breath, the clouds in her eyes returned.

"We can't stop them. I was stupid to think that we could."

"If you let the world tell you how you're going to be treated, what you can or can't do, you're in trouble."

He wouldn't allow the events to arrest her plans, to destroy her. And he knew that he was there to provide what courage and succor he might, to call to that part of her that nothing could destroy—not fear, not stupid meanness or violence born of greed. She was too precious to the world and to him, to the part of him that had been waiting all his life to spring out and champion, to love and support.

"In my experience, the big steps—the miracles of progress—are almost always invisible," he said, striving for words of encouragement. "At least at first. Just because you can't see your progress doesn't mean you aren't making any. And the first step to making dreams come true is having them in the first place."

"Don't coddle me, Parker."

The fighter in her peeked back through her despair.

"I'm serious. When I first started working on my vineyard, nothing looked familiar. I had to continue on faith. Faith in my dream, faith that it would lead me." Though he wished he could say so, he didn't add that his dream had led him to her.

She sniffed. "Faith is _not_ my strong suit."

"You have so much more faith than you admit to."

He fought again for words, and then he knew. He could simply hold her. The path, the actions, the words, those things would follow. He gathered her in his arms. She snuggled against him, her cheek against his chest. Something ancient in him battled with yesterday's thoughts, with today's goals and doubts and yearnings. And three words that would no longer wait escaped his lips.

"I love you."

She stiffened. But what reaction had he been expecting? He hadn't thought ahead—the overwhelming knowing that had spurred his declaration had no future plan. His proclamation had coalesced out of every breath he'd ever taken, every moment of his life, every action in his past. Had sprung out of the place in his heart that he'd guarded for so long. Never had he felt more fully present, more whole, more clear.

"This is no time for love, Parker," Juliet assured him. But she curled closer. And he smiled.

He smoothed a hand along her gold-streaked curls, then gently lifted her chin. He saw the miasma of defeat that still shadowed her eyes. But he knew what lay below that dark shadow. And if it broke him, he would offer everything he had to bring her back—to rekindle the very fire that he'd fought against—to resurrect the impetuous and daring Juliet. He wouldn't let her give up.

Dipping his head, he placed the gentlest of kisses against her lips. "This is precisely the time for love."

Whether she loved him, she hadn't said and he didn't know. And it did matter. But right then he would give and not take, not ask for more. He'd give, but not to control. He'd give to revive.

# Chapter Twenty-Six

Juliet tried to keep still. Though it seemed impossible, Parker slept beside her in her small bed.

He'd carried her from her couch to the bedroom. He'd tumbled her back onto the bed and made the world shimmer with delight and pleasure, pleasure beyond what she'd ever imagined possible. Pleasure that nearly frightened her with its power and release.

She hadn't napped. After they'd made love, she'd watched his eyelids flutter, felt his breath steady as sleep overtook him. A pang of guilt stabbed at her when she remembered that he'd slept in her chair the previous night.

Or had he? She had the faintest memory of him beside her in the bed, in the darkness. Well, whether she'd dreamed that pleasant scene or not, he was sleeping beside her now. Resting. With the first peaceful look she'd seen on his face in days.

She wanted to stroke him but didn't want to wake him. In sleep, his features had softened. The angles of his face, with its strongly chiseled features, appeared relaxed. Her gaze moved to his bare chest. She'd never get used to the raw, muscled grace of his body. He was like a tiger or a lion, wild and beautiful.

His hand shifted against her hip. She held her breath, not wanting to disturb him, wanting to let him sleep.

There was no way she could thank him for all he'd done to help with the campaign. Or for his words of encouragement.

But as she watched him sleeping, three of his words surged in her heart.

He said he loved her.

But how could he possibly love her when just yesterday he was kissing his ex?

Had he said it while caught up in the moment, and when he woke, would the spell of such words disappear? Did he love her like he loved polo? Parties? His vineyard? How the hell did _anyone_ know if someone really loved them? Did it matter?

Yup. It mattered.

There was no way she was going to jump all in and then realize too late that she'd dived head first into the shallow end of the pool.

But wasn't it already too late? She was already in the pool up to her friggin' neck.

Given what she knew about him and his aversion to relationships, expressing her feelings for him would be more than foolish.

Not to mention she'd seen him with Rachael just _yesterday_ , for God's sake. She'd shoved that vision down, had let herself make love with him in spite of what she knew, because... because some part of her wanted to feel the joy of him, the passion of loving him. The experience and the memory would cost her, she knew that. She'd already decided to pay that price.

She groaned inwardly and tried to stop her stampeding thoughts. It was all too much to think about.

But as she tried to still her mind, emotions rolled through her like big waves after a storm. And then slowly, as she lay there, they jelled and fixed into a jumbled shape, like a spiderweb that someone had walked through, with tangled strands and a big gaping hole at the center.

Perhaps thinking was easier than feeling. She had neither the time nor the energy to reweave the web, to deal with that cavernous hole, to pretend that letting herself make love with him hadn't slit her open to her bones. She would think now and feel later. Right now she could plan, execute and stay on task. See what they could accomplish.

The loud clack of the RV door shutting startled her and woke Parker.

"Someone's out there," she said as she leaped out of the bed and grabbed her robe.

Parker sat up, running a hand through his hair. "Juliet, it's okay. Relax."

"No, Parker, someone's in your RV."

He patted the bed. "Come here."

She tilted her head. "You _know_ who's out there?"

"Yeah."

"Do you mind telling _me_?"

He patted the bed again.

"I don't feel like sitting right now. But I _do_ feel like hearing who's camped out in my front garden."

"I hired a man to guard you. He helped me get you from the ferry to the cottage last night."

Any strands of cobwebs floating in her mind were wiped out by his admission. "What do you mean hired?"

"Hired. As in a bodyguard."

"The man I saw at the hotel? The man who I thought was following me?"

"Maybe."

"Maybe? Are there more guards? How many, Parker? And why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I thought you'd react like this."

"Like what? Like I'm appalled to find out some guy I don't know has been following me?"

"Apparently he's not the only guy following you. That's why I hired him in the first place."

He got up from the bed. She tried not to stare at his erection as he pulled on his briefs and jeans. She turned away. She couldn't think looking at him, wanting him.

"How long? How _long_ has this guy been following me?"

"Since the day before we left for Athens."

"In Athens?" She snapped her gaze back to his. "He was watching us in Athens?"

"No, he stayed here and kept an eye on Andreas."

He told her about Doria. About Pavlos. And that he was pretty sure Doria would be back on the island by noon. With a second bodyguard.

"That's great news about Doria." She sank onto the edge of the bed and put her head in her hands. Her headache was nibbling, trying to come back. "Does anyone else know about these bodyguards?"

"No." He gestured his open palms to her. "But the threats are real, Juliet. They can't be ignored. Whoever sent those thugs started at the top, with you, because you're the leader. But your team needs to know. One of them might be next."

His phone rang, and he pulled it from the pocket of his jeans.

"Meet me at her place," he said into the phone. "Christos and I will probably beat you there. Yes, come armed." He paused. "I figured you were. See you in half an hour."

Her heart pounded. Guns? Surely they didn't need guns. Parker didn't look up, just tapped in a number before she could ask any questions.

"It's Parker. We got Doria. Meet me out front in a minute. We can take the Jeep. I'll fill you in on the way."

He slipped his phone into his pocket. "I'll explain later," he said to Juliet. He crossed to her and took her hands in his. "I promise I'll answer every question and even some you don't ask. But right now you have to come with us to Doria's. There's no one to watch you."

"I don't need to be watched."

"You know how ridiculous that argument is at this point, right?"

Before she could answer, he added, "The good news is we have Doria."

"And the bad news?"

"Pavlos is a wild card. If he hired those thugs, there's no telling what could go down this morning. He's not bright. A stupid enemy is way worse than a smart one."

When they reached Doria's, Juliet watched from the Jeep as Christos and Parker took poised stances on either side of Doria's front door, guns held in both hands like she'd seen in the movies. It was surreal.

Maybe the drug was still in her system. She'd forgotten to ask what it was. But if any more strange events happened, she just might lose her grip on reality.

Christos knocked at the door and then stood back beside it, opposite Parker. Yesterday she'd thought Christos was a danger. She'd told him that she'd seen him, and he'd apologized so profusely for scaring her that she felt bad for even mentioning her thought. And now, knowing that Christos was likely the only protection keeping Parker from danger? She wanted to lay her heart at the burly guard's feet.

Pavlos answered. His face went white when he saw Parker and Christos with their guns pointed at his chest.

They'd told Juliet to stay in the Jeep; there was no way she was staying in the Jeep. It was _her_ life Pavlos had screwed with. She had a few things of her own to say.

When she entered the house, they had him cuffed to the leg of the kitchen table.

"Told you to stay outside," Parker bit out.

"She's okay," Christos said. "This one's not going anywhere."

"Do you have accomplices?" Parker asked Pavlos.

"Accomplices?" Pavlos looked truly astonished.

"Answer the question," Christos said, looming over Doria's trembling son.

"I never meant to harm her."

"Who?" Juliet asked. To her relief, neither Parker nor Christos glared at her.

"You. I just wanted you to be late for the party."

"The party?"

His lips quirked up. "I put a nail in your tire. I'm sorry for it now. I never meant to harm you."

Juliet crossed her arms. "And the flowers?"

"What flowers?"

"You didn't leave flowers on my doorstep that night?"

"I'm not a weirdo."

"What about the thugs?" Christos asked. "Where'd you hire them?"

"We want names," Parker added.

Pavlos went another shade of pale. "I didn't hire anybody."

Parker looked to Christos. Christos looked to Pavlos. And Pavlos sent a pleading look to Juliet.

"Look, I'm sorry about what I did to my mother. I'll get her back, I swear. It's just—"

"How sorry?" Doria's voice sounded from the hallway.

Juliet hadn't imagined Pavlos could go any paler, but he did. As Doria entered the kitchen with a big guy holstering a pistol, color began to creep up his neck.

"I know about your drug debts, Pavlos. And I'll deal with you later on that front. But if you did these things to Juliet, I'll—"

"I didn't, I swear. One nail, that's it. I never thought—"

"You never thought, all right," Parker said acidly.

"You didn't send the letters?" Juliet asked.

Pavlos shook his head.

"What about emptying the gas tank on the Zodiac?" Parker asked.

Pavlos shook his head vehemently, then his story poured out. His drug debts. How when he heard that Markos was selling, he was sure he could get his mother to sign. When Doria refused, he'd drugged her and taken her to the Alzheimer's facility.

"I thought I could sell before you got the declaration to go through. I was going to bring you back right after the sale, _mitera mou_. I was going to set you up for life. For life."

Doria waved her hand to silence him. "Don't _mitera mou_ me—I know about your debts and the drugs. And I'm so disappointed in you. But disappointment won't fix anything." She put her hands to her hips. Juliet saw the pulse pounding in Doria's throat, the only sign that she was barely holding her emotions in check. "You have two choices. Stay here and work off your debts, which I will pay in the meantime, or go back to Australia and go to jail. Or worse."

Pavlos nodded, his eyes wide.

"In addition," Doria continued, her voice scratchy with emotion, "you'll have to earn back your karma with the turtles. I had plenty of time to think, trapped in that place. Your job will be to restore the nesting beach and serve as a volunteer marshal for the marine park. But if you make one bad move"—she put her fingers to her throat in a cutting motion—"you're off this island forever. I can make sure of that."

She whirled around to Juliet. "And let me handle Markos. He owes me."

"For what?" Pavlos asked.

"For not marrying him. Our families had us matched up at birth, but he fell in love with Maria. I got him off the hook, and he was able to marry his ladylove. Time to call in that debt."

Juliet sat in the front seat of the Jeep, the two bodyguards in the back. Parker drove like a madman to Oceana headquarters.

"How did you find Doria?" Juliet asked.

"Put a tracer on Pavlos's credit cards and his phone."

"Holy crap, Parker. Are you some kind of spy?" Surely he didn't have time for any other activities—the man already had his fingers in everything.

"No, but my uncle—well, he's really a cousin, but we all think of him as an uncle—is a semiretired intelligence agent. Emphasis on the semi bit."

Juliet got light-headed. "I wish we hadn't needed his help."

"His help I trust, Juliet. And we may need more. I know there's something we're missing." He looked into the rearview mirror at Christos.

"Pavlos is a chump," Christos said.

Parker nodded. "We'll take Juliet to get the plans and then meet with Markos." He glanced quickly over his shoulder. "I think he's clean in all this, but it won't hurt to have you and Thane as backup. Then we'll meet with Nikos and see what he can tell us about the developers. Your presence, gentlemen, should be persuasion enough to get him talking."

"I'm going too," Juliet said.

Parker smiled at her. "You don't have a choice in this instance. Your protection is in the backseat."

Juliet glared. What did he mean, in _this_ instance? What choice was she making that she wasn't aware of? Why didn't people just say what they meant?

She pulled her hair out of its ponytail, ran her fingers along her scalp to ease the tension and then put it back up again. They had two days to get the signatures to Kantakos. That was what was important to focus on. And a win with Markos could make all the difference.

"You okay?" Parker asked. He put a hand to the top of her head and ran his fingers along the curve of her skull. The most intimate caress wouldn't have felt any better right then.

"No matter what happens, Parker, I want to have a celebration. Well, I'd like your help to plan a party, one where we can release Persa and announce the winner of the coloring book contest. A party to recognize what we managed to accomplish, even if we didn't totally succeed. The people of Zantos deserve a celebration. The volunteers deserve one too."

" _You_ deserve it," he said softly as he drew his finger to her shoulder.

" _We_ deserve it," she said. "But is four days too soon to pull one together? Andreas says Persa is beyond ready to get back to the ocean, and the coloring book contest wraps up on Wednesday."

"Not for me. But I should've known you'd squeeze two parties out of me. Costs extra, you know."

"Put it on my bill," she said, wishing the smile she tried for didn't feel pasted on.

# Chapter Twenty-Seven

When Parker showed up fifteen minutes later at Markos's house with the two bodyguards and Juliet, the man took their intrusion in stride. But Markos became incensed when Juliet showed him the plans for the mega-resort complex.

"I don't like to be lied to," he said.

"No one does," Juliet said.

She then told him what Pavlos had done to Doria, about him drugging his mother and incarcerating her.

Markos leaped to his feet. "Where is she?"

"Home," Juliet said. "She's okay. She said she'll be over here this afternoon."

"Maybe you should leave those two guys here to protect me," Markos said. But he didn't smile at his attempt at a joke.

"You should know this as well," Parker said. "There have been threats to Juliet." He told Markos of the letters, the near disaster with the boat. "Even worse, two thugs accosted her last night, drugged her and dragged her to the ferry."

Juliet shot him a look. "That has nothing to do with him."

Markos fisted his hand. "I'd say it does. Do you think the developers are involved? That they hired those guys? Sent the letters?"

"We don't know that."

"Have you spoken with Nikos? He should know about this. He's their local connection to the island."

"We're headed there next," Parker said.

Markos sat at his desk and put his head in his hands. "You know, I had a dream for this place. Those simpler plans, the ones I showed you? That was _my_ dream. A small pensione. And a place for the school kids to come and learn about the turtles. A sanctuary that existed in harmony with the turtles and the island. I love Zantos. I love the turtles. But building a place like the one I dreamed of takes money, money I don't have."

"I can invest," Parker said.

Markos shook his head. "I don't want a handout."

"I'm not offering one." Parker saw Juliet raise a brow. "But I'd like to invest. I need to, really. You'd be doing me a favor."

A slow twitch in Markos's lips became a small grin. "Your man is a diplomat."

"He's not my—"

"We can talk this all over later," Parker interrupted. Clearly Juliet's head was still fuzzed from the drugs if she was going to discuss their relationship in front of Markos. "Just promise Miss Cabot that you won't sell your place. And that you'll sign the petition."

"I'll sign it now."

"I don't have one with me," Juliet said, her smile fading.

"My word is good. And you have it."

He reached out a hand to Juliet. As she leaned toward him, the necklace at her throat fell to the floor, scattering beads on the tiles.

Beads.

_Beads_.

Oh, shit, the _beads_. Blue and yellow beads against tanned flesh. Suddenly he wasn't looking forward to his visit to Nikos.

He hustled Juliet, Christos and Thane to the Jeep.

"Will he sign?" Juliet asked. "Can you believe I didn't have a petition?"

Parker grunted out his answers, his mind on what he dreaded to discover at Nikos's place.

"Are you listening? Do you think he'll really stop the sale?"

"I do," he answered, dragging his focus back. "And if he doesn't? I have a card up my sleeve."

"I don't believe in magic. And I told you, no more surprises."

"I don't remember making any deals about surprises, Miss Cabot." He looked back at Christos. "Did you hear me make any promises about surprises?"

Christos laughed. "Nope."

"Not fair. He works for you."

"Well, technically, he works for Santino."

"Same thing. Paid opinion."

He stayed focused as she called Andreas.

"Go ahead and send the scans of the petitions to Kantakos. And tell him we have Doria. If he asks about Markos, stall, as we don't actually have his name on the dotted line yet. Say something positive. Don't lie, but, well, you'll know what to say."

As Parker turned up the drive leading to Nikos's house, his sense of alarm rose. He'd missed the clues all along. What else had he not seen?

When he reached the house, he turned to Juliet. "Stay in the Jeep."

"You're kidding, right?"

"No."

He looked to Thane and nodded. "Okay, but stay behind Thane."

"You're scaring me again."

"I can't explain." He nodded to Thane. "If you have to, get her out."

"I feel like the Mod Squad," Juliet said as the four of them walked to the door.

Parker turned to Thane. "Keep her here. Just until I make sure Fabia isn't around."

Juliet's eyes went wide. "Fabia?"

"Just wait," he said to Juliet.

Just then Nikos opened the door. He lifted his brows when he took in the group.

"May we come in?" Parker wasn't asking, and Nikos knew it.

"Sure."

Parker pulled the door closed, leaving a very surprised Juliet on the front steps with Thane.

Christos followed Parker into the foyer, his hand in his pocket. The guns didn't make Parker feel any more secure, but he was glad they had them.

He turned to Nikos. "Where's Fabia?"

Nikos stopped in the hall, thrust his hands into his pockets. "Her father swooped in and took her away two hours ago."

Parker turned to Christos. "Let Juliet in."

"I was just on my way to find Juliet," Nikos said. "But now that you and she are here, I think we should all sit down. Shall I have coffee brought in?"

"We won't be staying long," Parker said as Juliet followed Thane into the modern, expensively furnished living room. He didn't introduce the guards. "What do you know?"

"Little, as is usual where Fabia is concerned. But enough."

"May I search her room?"

Nikos raised a brow. "Depends on what you're looking for."

"Photographs. Or rather, pieces of photographs." He turned to Juliet. "Drink some water. Christos, see that she does." He touched her arm. "I'll tell you everything. That's a promise." He was surprised she wasn't demanding answers from him already.

"I can save you the trouble," Nikos said. He went to a table by the window and returned with an envelope. He emptied the contents on the glass table in front of the sofa. The remnants of carved-up photographs and a pair of cuticle scissors spilled out.

"I believe you already know what this is," Nikos said as he spread the mass of finely cut photographs. "I found these after Fabia's father took her away. They were in the bureau in her room. Along with this." He pulled a binder from a drawer in the table beside the sofa and placed it next to the pile of colored scraps.

Juliet stared. "The photos the letters were made from?"

Parker nodded.

She looked to Nikos. "Did you know?"

Nikos shook his head. "No, I found out this morning about Fabia trying to have you taken off the island. I was on my way over to you and— God, Juliet, I am so—"

"Taken off?" Parker interrupted. "That's a damned weak euphemism. They kidnapped her at _gunpoint_. How did Fabia's father find out so quickly?"

"The men she hired got greedy," Nikos said with a heavy sigh. "They phoned him late last night, demanding payment or they'd tell the press about Fabia hiring them. But her father is a smart man. He knew they couldn't go to the authorities—they wouldn't risk being implicated or prosecuted. And no media outlet would take on Nevrakou—he owns majority shares in most of them—but her thugs couldn't know that. So her father just showed up and took her away." He glanced to Juliet. "And severed our engagement. I was glad he did it so I didn't have to." He stared at the scraps on the table.

Juliet looked at Parker. "How did you figure out that Fabia made the letters?"

"The beads. She gave you those beads. And after you showed me the letters, the image of beads kept taunting me: in the Plaka, Pavlos's keychain, your necklace, Fabia's bracelet. And then it clicked—I'd seen beads on skin in the images in the threat letters. When we discovered this morning that Pavlos hadn't sent the letters, I knew then that Fabia had."

Juliet frowned. "I burned the letters."

"Those letters were perhaps the only clear evidence that Fabia was involved," Parker said.

"It's possible that even without them you could build a case and prosecute," Christos said. Thane nodded his agreement. Both men sat coiled tight, as if ready to spring into action.

Nikos shook his head. "Her family would throw everything they have at you, Juliet. At Oceana. You'd get nowhere."

Nikos began to pace in front of a row of windows overlooking the garden. "I owe you an explanation," he said, turning to Juliet. "Not that it absolves me of my part in this horror. I dated Fabia last year. But after my brother died, I came back to Zantos. I can't explain it, but his death made me want to put down roots. I'd been here about two months." He swept his palm toward Juliet. "Then I met you, fell for you. But you made it clear that you didn't want anything more than a friendship. That depressed me."

He spread his hands in the air, and the pained expression on his face had Parker feeling sorry for the guy. Losing Juliet would tank him too.

"I'm afraid I haven't been a very good friend," Nikos continued. "Fabia showed up. She knew the developers due to their connection with her father; they'd invested in a big project of his in Thessaloniki. She talked a good line about the project here on Zantos, showed me the plans and said it would be ecologically sensitive. I guess we all know now that was bullshit."

He leaned against the glass door. "Fabia convinced me to approach Markos. And Pavlos. But after the community party you organized, the developers tried to strong-arm me. Tried to get me to coerce people I've known all my life to not sign your petition—to get them to write letters of protest to the prime minister. When they started pushing, I started to back down. The whole thing was just off."

Nikos exhaled a loud breath. "But their pressure was nothing compared to Fabia. What I didn't know, not until this morning, was what drove her. She's spent her life trying to be the son her father never had. She craves his blessing, his affection. This whole thing was about her wanting a big project, wanting to prove herself to her father. She's an ambitious, troubled woman. But her father is a cold man, old school. Girls don't count. He said as much this morning. It's no wonder she's unstable. But that doesn't excuse her. Or me."

"You didn't know," Juliet said, crossing the room to him. "You can't blame yourself."

"I _can_ blame myself. When I heard Doria at the party, I _knew_ she was right. I love this island, everything about it. When I discovered their true plans a couple of days ago, I knew that what they were scheming to pull off would not only be bad for the nesting beaches, for the sea turtles, but for the island.

"I was willing to sell what lives at the heart of Zantos—what makes us who we are—to people who don't care. We'd destroy what makes this little slice of paradise unique. I tried to convince Fabia." He crossed his arms. "She thought you had a hold on me, Juliet. When I told her I was pulling out—that I thought you were right—she grew agitated, said I'd fallen under your spell. She was jealous. I'm afraid I had a hand in pushing her over the edge."

"You don't know that, Nikos," Juliet said. "Jealousy might have been the driving emotion, but she's disturbed. She gave me the bracelet, and I'm pretty sure now that she was behind the attempt to maroon me in the Ionian Sea by emptying the tank of my Zodiac. But the weirdest thing she did? She left flowers on my doorstep. At least, I'm pretty sure she was the culprit. Those aren't the actions of a stable person."

Nikos put his hand to his forehead and pressed against his temples. "If she did all these things, she's much further gone than I ever suspected. And though it's hard to come to grips with the truth of it, I now believe that her father may have known all along what she was up to. Maybe he even wanted her to succeed in her coercive tactics in order to stop the marine park and pave the way for the development deal. Still, I'm pretty sure he never thought she'd resort to violence. Maybe he hoped our marriage would miraculously restrain her. Tone down some of her wilder inclinations."

"I hope they get her some help," Juliet said softly.

Nikos shuddered. "Can you even help someone that troubled?" He shook his head. "There are no words to tell you how horrible I feel that I was party to these threats to you. And to ruining the future of the marine park and maybe even Zantos."

"We're close to a win," Juliet said in a gentle, forgiving tone. "We have a thousand signatures, including Doria's. And Markos said he'd sign. But if you want to help, talk to Markos. He says he's not going to sell, but I'm not so sure he won't be swayed if they up their offer."

"He's desperate for money. And the investors weren't involved in Fabia's crimes. Sure, they strong-armed me, but that's just business as usual for them. They still want their project."

"I told Markos I'd invest in his place," Parker said from across the room. "He has a dream, and I think he's sincere. If he agrees and follows through, I'd like you to work with me on it. I'll need someone here on Zantos. And Markos respects you."

Nikos stared as if he didn't believe what he was hearing. "Are you serious? After all this?"

"Very serious."

"I'll go to Markos right after you leave." Nikos nodded toward Christos and Thane and gave a surprising smile. "But I might need those two to protect me if Doria is around."

"No deal," Parker said. "You're on your own with Doria."

# Chapter Twenty-Eight

Four days later, Juliet drove up the narrow lane to Doria's house to pick her up and take her to the Oceana celebration. Sunlight danced on the ocean in the distance, and a light breeze kept the morning cool. She couldn't have asked for a more perfect day for the party. But her jumbled feelings, laced by disappointment and a deep, gnawing sadness, hadn't put her in a partying frame of mind.

She wished they were celebrating the establishment of the marine park, and she'd tried to settle for recognizing what they had accomplished—the support of most of the east islanders, stopping the sale of Doria's and Markos's land to uncaring developers and local funding for the sea turtle rescue center. Those achievements should be enough. If only they were.

But it wasn't just the failure to reach her original goals for the campaign that had her down.

Parker had moved out of his RV and spent the past four nights at a hotel in town. He'd said he needed the office resources provided by the hotel to conduct his work for the party, but behind his smooth words she suspected that moving to town was just the first step to him leaving her. And though they'd had dinner together Monday night at a café, he'd seemed so changed, so distracted by his work to pull off the party, that she'd felt he was a stranger.

But she'd been the one to set the date for the party, to compress what probably should've taken weeks to plan into a few days, so she couldn't fault him for his distracted conversation that night. She'd felt that something simmered below his words and had fought back the urge to touch him, to question him, to find a way once again to connect in the deep place that made her soul sing. Instead, she tried to suck up her sadness and prepare herself for what she'd known all along was the most likely outcome: he'd head back to his life in Sonoma, and she'd leave Greece behind and... and go where? Taking the job in California would put her too close to Parker for comfort. The whole planet wasn't big enough to provide enough distance between them that would ease her heartache.

Since the dinner they had texted and shared a couple of brief phone calls, but most of their exchanges had been about the upcoming Oceana celebration. There was no opening, no opportunity, to dive back into the deeply connected world they had once shared.

Groaning, she pulled herself together and headed up to Doria's door. Doria had suffered traumas perhaps even more disturbing than hers. Since Doria's safe return, every effort Juliet had made to stuff down her anger toward Pavlos had only dug her ire in deeper.

She'd asked Doria to present the award for the coloring book contest. Juliet would've thought she'd asked her to crown the next Queen of England, she was so pleased. But a question burned in her mind as she helped Doria climb into Parker's Jeep.

"How can you be so quick to forgive Pavlos?" Juliet asked as she turned the Jeep and headed down the hill toward the main road.

"He's my son, my only child. When you have children of your own, you'll understand. But don't worry, he'll be working a very long time to make up for his stupidity."

"Stupidity? What about greed? And thoughtlessness?" Juliet heard the anger in her voice. Doria might not be steamed about what her son had done to her, but she still was.

"No, not greed," Doria said softly. "He was afraid. He'd made mistakes. Got involved with drugs. Once he got clean and left the rehab facility, they wanted their money. But I sent a very clear message when I sent the funds to pay his debt."

"Seems strange, you having to pay people like that—criminals."

Doria patted her hand where it rested on the gearshift. "I have my son back, and I won't miss the money. But I am so terribly sorry about what he did to you."

A flock of seagulls flew past as Juliet turned onto the main road and headed toward Laganas Bay.

"It's Fabia I'm having a hard time forgiving," Juliet admitted. "I mean, I feel sorry for her, and while I can forgive her for what she did to me, even the kidnapping, she set events in motion that stalled the campaign, that almost ruined everything. I can't forgive her for that."

Doria patted Juliet's hand again. "Whenever the unthought-of happens, it's always a stepping stone to something you need to see but haven't been paying attention to." She chuckled softly. "The mysterious forces that orchestrate life are beyond our comprehension. And the deepening of a heart is a miracle, no matter how it comes about. I meant what I said at the party—confusion comes when you try to separate two things that are inseparable. Your Parker—"

"He's not _my_ Parker."

"My eyes may be cloudy, but I see fine. What _is_ it with young people today?" she said, huffing. "Always in such a hurry to ignore their hearts, striving for accomplishments and forgetting that what happens in a relationship is in fact the most important aspect of their lives."

"I'm a scientist," Juliet said. "I know a fact when I see one." Sadness bloomed in her chest as she told Doria about seeing Parker at the harbor with Rachael.

"And he's spent the past four nights at the hotel in town, said he needed their office resources to pull the party together. For all I know, Rachael hasn't left."

Since Parker's departure, the two bodyguards had slept in his RV. But though they provided distraction, bodyguards couldn't fend off the loneliness that facing reality dragged in with it.

"You may be a scientist, but you're a woman too. You forget _that_ at your own peril. Did you ask him about this woman?"

Juliet shook her head as she steered Parker's rented Jeep into the parking lot at Oceana. "We had dinner together two nights ago. I couldn't bring myself to ask him anything about Rachael. Maybe I didn't want to hear the truth."

Doria patted her hand again. "You need to get out of the way of the universe, Juliet, and let its powers play out without interference." She tapped her fingers on Juliet's knuckles. "And have a little faith."

She did have faith, faith in facts. And the facts were stacked against the future she wished for.

Doria's words resounded in Juliet's thoughts as she surveyed the massive tent set up on the beach across from Oceana headquarters. She gave a prayer of thanks that this area wasn't a nesting site. Good thing, as the beach around the tent was crowded with children who'd come with their teachers and parents for the announcement of the winner of the coloring book contest.

She ducked into the shade of the tent.

"No!" she heard Parker bark out. "To the _left_. And six inches higher."

She turned to see him—standing at the top of a ladder—directing one of the volunteers who was affixing a garland.

_Garlands_.

Parker really was the party maniac his reputation held him to be. He'd thought of everything to make the party a stellar event, and then some. A friend of his had flown in flowers and champagne from Paris on a private jet. Parker had also arranged for LED lanterns with multicolored glass that projected colored beams of light along the tent walls.

Parker was a perfectionist. But then, so was she. He was passionate about polo, his vineyards, his family, about life. But no matter how she arranged and rearranged what she knew about Parker, the facts never added up to the whole man—a man who astounded her. The _only_ man she'd ever met who intrigued her and lit a boundless passion she was beginning to regret igniting.

But if Doria was right, if the universe had a hand in drawing people together, she couldn't kick herself too hard. Who could fight with the forces of the universe? Evidently she couldn't.

Parker ascended a ladder on the other side of the tent and adjusted a bough of green leaves and white trailing flowers, studied it and then moved it about four inches. She was surprised to see the difference the tiny adjustment made in the overall symmetry of the decor.

He'd agreed to once again hire locals to make the food and totally supported having four groups of local musicians, one from each area that was home to a sea turtle nesting beach, provide the music. But he'd balked when she suggested buying local wines. She'd conceded on that point. Champagne was always a welcome addition to a celebration.

But in spite of the smooth party preparations, nothing felt right.

She left the tent and walked along the tide line of the bay, her doubts running relentlessly through her mind. She'd sent several inquiring emails, but Kantakos hadn't given them _any_ feedback about the declaration.

Andreas had faxed the signed petitions, along with affidavits from Markos and Doria stating that they wanted the park to go through, to the prime minister's staff a day _before_ his stated deadline. Over thirteen hundred Zantos citizens had signed so far.

Juliet had also sent an Oceana volunteer to hand deliver copies of the developer's plans directly to the prime minister's office, hoping that when Kantakos saw the plans for the massive complex, he'd realize why regulations were critical and take action. If he asked how Oceana had come by them, she'd refer him to the developers. They were the ones who'd intentionally deceived the government, not Oceana.

But the lack of response from Kantakos made it even harder for her to want to celebrate.

Even Zuri's text saying she'd be arriving later that morning hadn't cheered her.

"Not a very convincing party face," Parker said as he caught up with her on the beach.

She forced a smile. "Everything looks lovely."

"Ah. _Lovely_. I always find that people use that word when their thoughts are somewhere else. Tell me there's no trouble you haven't let on about."

He deserved to know. "When I called Kantakos's office again this morning, a staffer coolly informed me that the prime minister was _busy_ and that he would be out of the office for a few days. We did all that work—did more than he asked—and he's sloughing us off."

"Don't let a politician get you down. Not after all you've accomplished."

"I came to Zantos to get the marine park declared. I can't help but feel that I've failed."

He spread his arms and gestured to the sparkling water of the bay and the beach stretching into the distance. "Hey, you got Doria and Markos to protect the nesting area. That's a success."

"For _now_. We stopped development for now. But what about next month? Next year? A decade or two from now?"

She toed the sand with her running shoe. She wanted to lean into him, feel his strong arms wrapped around her. But that wasn't an option. He'd moved on. His spending the nights in town couldn't have sent any clearer message. He didn't owe her. He'd done more than any other person could have to rescue her and the campaign. But damned if some part of her wanted to fight for what could be if only... if only they were different people. If only he was a man interested in a relationship. He'd said he loved her, but given their present circumstances, the memory of his words made her feel hollow.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I'm on edge. I need a few minutes to gather my thoughts."

"I understand," he said.

And she was pretty sure he did. Knowing that he understood, that he cared about her work, made it that much harder to let him go. They walked in silence, and she wondered if his thoughts were far away—on the vineyard or polo or Rachael. She couldn't tear her own thoughts from the here and now. Away from him.

Five minutes later, in spite of her decision not to bring up Parker's move to a hotel and his obvious desire to make a clean break, she'd almost worked up the courage to ask about Rachael when Andreas's voice boomed from the tent, calling over the PA system for everyone to gather for the ceremony.

"We should go back," she said.

He clasped her shoulders and turned her toward the tent. "Look at them, Juliet. Look at their faces. They have a stake in what happens. Your work, the work of your team, woke them up."

His words melted into her. But his touch branded heat through her and sparked desire tinged with sadness. What would she do when she never again felt his touch?

Tracing his hand down her arm, he surprised her by twining his fingers in hers. "Showtime, Miss Cabot."

His hand was warm. And fool that she was, she held it as they walked up the sand and crossed the road.

When they reached the tent, Andreas had already gathered the children around the stage. Parents and teachers stood off to the side, munching on hors d'oeuvres and accepting glasses of champagne from passing waiters.

Andreas opened a large box at the side of the stage and a frenzy of activity followed as he pulled out handfuls of white shirts with the cover of the coloring book silk-screened in bright colors across the front. Boys and girls pulled the shirts on over their clothes, laughing and displaying their treasures to their parents.

She looked up at Parker. "Your doing?"

"Couldn't imagine the letdown when only one kid won the contest," he said with a sheepish smile. "I thought this way we could make them all winners."

"Any more surprises I should know about?"

"Two."

"Spill. I'm not sure my nerves can take the suspense."

"I have more faith in you than that." Parker's eyes glinted with mischief. "You'll see soon enough. Besides, you've had practice."

"Don't remind me."

She looked up to see a black limo speeding toward the tent.

Parker squinted into the sun. "Looks like you might be getting Kantakos's message in person. Look, stay positive. What you do today—what he sees—matters. If he's drawn in enough maybe he'll put some hard-core regulations in place that could ensure the future of the marine park."

"Is it really Kantakos?"

"In the flesh."

"Also your doing?"

"Nope, all yours. I haven't had any contact with him since our meeting." He touched two fingers over his heart. "Scout's honor."

Juliet rushed to the stage and asked Andreas to pause the ceremony so that they could welcome the prime minister.

Kantakos refused their offer of the microphone. "This is your day," he said. "Just carry on. However, before you do, I would like you to meet my grandson." He turned to a tall boy of about eleven. "Georgos, this is Miss Cabot. And her friend Mr. Tavonesi." Two uniformed bodyguards with earpieces shadowed them, but neither Kantakos nor Georgos paid them any mind.

" _Pappoús_ has told me all about you," Georgos said as he shook her hand. " _I_ want to be like you when I'm out of school. I want to be a campaigner. _And_ a scientist."

"Sometimes you have to choose," Kantakos said in a tone only a grandfather could get away with.

The boy frowned. "A scientist." He shook Parker's hand and then looked up at his grandfather. "Can I show her now?"

Kantakos shot a questioning glance her way. "I think you're ready to get started?"

"We can wait a few minutes," Juliet said. She was still taking in that Kantakos was standing in front of her. And she was still apprehensive. She doubted he'd come to this ceremony to deliver bad news in person, but she wasn't going to relax until she'd heard him say the words.

Georgos ran to the limo, tailed by one of the bodyguards, and returned with a mock-up of a coloring book. It was similar to the ones they'd provided to the Zantos children but it had facing pages in Greek and English.

"I made it myself," he said proudly.

Kantakos cleared his throat.

"Well, my mother helped. She did the English. But I could've done it."

"Your English is excellent," Juliet said.

"See?" the boy said, grinning up at Kantakos. "I _could've_ done it by myself."

Juliet leafed through the handmade book.

"Do you think we could get them printed? Mother says that if we give them for free to every school near a nesting beach, and sell them in the towns, then people would take care of the turtles."

Parker chuckled. "He's already a campaigner."

Kantakos shook his head. "Relentless. Which brings me to why I'm here."

Juliet sucked in a breath. Kantakos nodded to a staffer standing by the limo. The woman walked over carrying a large envelope.

Kantakos scanned the tent. "May I use that table over there?"

"Of course." Juliet's pulse hammered in her ears.

Parker moved the flower arrangement from the center of the table closer to the other end. Kantakos laid the envelope on the table and then pulled out a stiff white paper with a blue and gold seal in the upper right corner. He handed it to Juliet.

"Your declaration, my dear. Official as of seven thirty this morning."

Juliet held the paper. The tears welling in her eyes made it hard to read the Greek lettering.

"That's a ceremonial copy," Kantakos said.

"That means you can frame it," Georgos said. "Put it on your wall. That's what people do."

She nodded. And then she flung her arms around Kantakos.

He patted her shoulders and then stepped back. "I do believe this is a party." He looked to Parker.

Parker motioned a waiter to bring over a tray of champagne.

"I have to tell Andreas. He's out back prepping Persa for her release," Juliet said, swallowing down the emotion that was choking her. She hadn't meant to make the prime minister uncomfortable. Had she actually hugged him? God only knew what she might do next, she was so riddled with joy and relief.

"I think you should announce the declaration from the stage," Parker said.

She blushed. "Prime Minister Kantakos should do that."

"I'd prefer that someone who has worked here on the campaign announce it," Kantakos said. "You would be perfect, Miss Cabot."

"No, not me. But I know who should."

At the news, Andreas hugged Juliet so hard it squeezed the breath out of her. She dragged him back into the tent. A few minutes later, Doria and Markos stood in front of the microphone. Markos looked bemused. Doria beamed. They took turns reading the words of the declaration.

Applause and the popping of more champagne corks followed.

As Juliet stepped up to the microphone, she thought she saw a flirtatious wink pass between Markos and Doria as they joined the crowd. Maybe romance blossomed there. She hoped so. Someone should find happiness in love, even if it couldn't be her.

The microphone buzzed with feedback as she leaned into it. Parker scowled and raced back to the AV guy he'd hired. A moment later he gave her a thumbs-up.

Juliet put her lips close to the microphone. "None of this would have been possible without the vision of Prime Minster Kantakos." She motioned him to the stage.

He joined her, his grandson at his side. Georgos spied the T-shirts that the children were wearing and tugged at his grandfather's coat sleeve. Kantakos shook his head. Georgos frowned.

Parker ran up, toting a T-shirt. He handed it to Georgos, who beamed a high-wattage grin as he pulled the shirt over his head.

Kantakos stepped to the microphone. "Mr. Tavonesi here has averted a crisis." The crowd went silent, unsure of what he meant. He hugged his grandson close. "Those of you who have children and grandchildren know that this T-shirt is way more important at this moment than anything I might have to say."

The crowd roared with laughter. Georgos flushed and fiddled with the hem of his shirt.

"But seriously, this is an important day. An auspicious day." He spread his arms out to the crowd. "You, the people of Zantos, have spoken. I could throw out facts, facts such as one-fifth of our country's income comes from tourism, or that we as a nation face difficult economic challenges. But some would say that the earth is the ultimate accountant, and I believe that you have made a wise choice by asking me to sign this declaration that will conserve and protect a critical resource. And by rallying and insisting on establishing the marine park, you, the citizens of Zantos, have proven that democracy has a wisdom and strength all its own. Working together, you have set an example that the world will see and take note of. You have ensured that the beauty and health of this island will remain intact for generations to come. I salute you."

Applause filled the tent.

Out of the corner of her eye, Juliet spotted Zuri and Coco at the back of the crowd.

Having her friends there to celebrate the victory might help to mitigate the emptiness she felt at knowing that Parker would be leaving the next morning. But doubt gnawed.

Eleni and her daughter Thalia joined Andreas and half a dozen of the other Oceana volunteers to rope off the section of the beach where Persa, the rehabilitated sea turtle, was being released. Andreas gave Georgos the job of handing out donation envelopes to the tourists.

Juliet spied Thurston Baxter handing Kantakos's grandson a wad of bills. Shirley beamed at Thurston's side. She waved as Juliet made her way over to them.

"I knew you'd pull this off," Thurston said, clapping her on the back.

Shirley raised her champagne glass. "Huzzah, my dear." But her smile faded. "Where's that handsome man of yours?"

"Oh, he's around." For once she let the assumption slide. It was no time to debate her warring feelings with the Baxters. They'd already made it clear that love trumped all. She certainly didn't need that reminder right then. "You're just in time for the release."

"Then I'd better get more champagne." Thurston chuckled, taking Shirley's arm and steering her toward the tent. "Save the third dance for me," he said over his shoulder as they walked off.

Dancing? They hadn't planned any dancing. She scanned the crowd for Parker. Maybe he'd been up to more hijinks than he'd confessed.

Christos and one of the stronger volunteers helped Andreas carry the crate containing Persa down to the beach. Juliet saw Coco eyeing the buff bodyguard. She considered warning Christos about Coco's calendar project, but the smile that flitted between the guard and Parker's cousin a moment later told her that Christos could take care of himself.

"There should be a drum roll," Parker said as he sidled up to Juliet.

"Has anyone told you that you have a bad habit of sneaking up on people?"

"Would you like a list?" Happiness glittered in his eyes. He'd busted his butt since day one to help her; surely she could rise above her sadness and join in his cheer.

"A drum roll would scare the turtle," she said with a grin that she hoped matched his.

"I'll have to log that into my party-guide notes—no drum rolls at parties where turtles are involved."

A laugh shot out of her at the image. Damn, the man had a way of disarming her.

Parker's hand curved against hers. She let him close her fingers in his palm.

And in the light of his smile, she made a decision. She had only a few hours left to be around him—she would enjoy that time and tuck away happy memories. Besides, she owed it to her team to celebrate with a joyous heart.

Yup, feel now, pay later.

"Here's our intrepid winner," Parker said.

The little girl who won the coloring book contest couldn't have been more than five years old. Shy and timid in the face of the big crowd, she held her mother's hand as she followed Andreas to the side of the painted blue crate.

Andreas motioned for everyone to be quiet. He bent down and showed the little girl how to unlatch the door to the crate. He guided her hand as together they swung the door to the side. Andreas pulled her back a few steps from the open door and then knelt down.

Parker leaned close. "Did I ever tell you that I like your chosen mission?"

_Like_. She'd have to settle for like.

"Shhh." She put a finger to her lips. His gaze locked on hers. And she couldn't help herself. She pressed up on her toes and kissed him on the cheek.

A hushed murmur whispered through the volunteers and spectators. When Persa stuck her head out of the crate, Juliet felt as though the entire crowd sucked in a breath and held it, watching.

Slowly Persa used her flippers to make her way down the sloping sands. She paused at the tideline.

"He was smiling," Juliet heard the little girl say to her mother in the loud whisper that children somehow think is inaudible.

"She, honey. Persa is a she," the mom whispered.

" _She_ smiled at me," the girl said, holding tight to her mother's hand.

"Yes, _agape mou_ , I think she did."

For a minute Persa didn't move. At first Juliet was afraid the sea turtle was going to return to the crate, as rehabbed animals sometimes did. But Persa just looked back toward the crowd. And then she turned again toward the bay and flipper by flipper hauled herself into the calm blue water. She swam at the surface for about twenty yards and then dived.

The crowd murmured a barely muffled cheer. Tears flowed. Parker squeezed Juliet's hand.

"Good job, chief."

"Back at you, California Boy."

Kantakos approached her and Parker.

"I wish we could stay, but it's not possible."

Juliet held out her hand. "Thank you."

He nodded first to her and then to Parker. "No, thank you. I don't often get to have happy endings." He gazed out over the bay. "Or beginnings. You've done fine work here, young lady."

Juliet gave Georgos a card with her email and cellphone number. "Stay in touch. I want to see how your coloring book project turns out. And maybe you'll come visit me someday." She looked to the prime minister. "Would that be okay?"

"Yes!" Georgos said, pumping his fist and making Juliet and Parker laugh.

"Depends on his grades and if his parents can spare him."

"I'll see you in July," Parker said to the prime minister. "The Ritz Classic is on the fourteenth. There's a pickup match at my cousin Zoe's place the day before. I hope you'll play on my team."

"Thank you. The prospect of a rousing polo match should get me through the European Commission negotiations if anything can." He nodded to the uniformed guards, and the four of them made their way to the limo.

Georgos waved through the window of the limo as it drove away.

"I believe you have another convert to the cause," Parker said.

Juliet pointed to where Christos and Coco sat, head to head, at a table in the taverna next to the Oceana office. "It looks like Coco is working on converting Christos to hers."

"If he's not careful, he'll end up being Mr. April, half-clothed and in full color for all the world to see. Coco is as dogged a campaigner as you are," he said with a smile that shattered her heart.

They rejoined the gathering in the tent, where Parker immediately began pestering Doria for her secret dessert recipe. Juliet watched him as he made his way around the tent. He stopped to adjust blooms in a vase of flowers near the stage.

He'd saved her.

And not just from the kidnappers. He'd made her believe in love. And no matter what their future was, even if this was the end, she'd always know what if felt like to truly love.

"You did it," Zuri said as she sauntered up and handed Juliet a glass of champagne.

"Couldn't have done it without Parker's help."

Zuri looked from her to where Parker stood exchanging words and smiles with Thane.

"I hope you love my brother. Because he sure loves you."

"How do you know? You've been here less than an hour."

"I'm his sister. Besides, I have eyes. Anyone can see that he's mad about you."

"Campaigns bring people close. Parker and I are friends, that's all."

But were they even friends? Didn't friends imagine having a future together, sharing their lives? The realization made her shudder.

Zuri peered up at her. "If you don't love him, let him down easy, or I'll be the one picking up the pieces. I don't think I'm up to that daunting task."

Juliet let out a long sigh. "I think you're safe in that department."

"If you weren't my best friend, I'd call you daft."

"You've called me worse."

Zuri chuckled. "Do _not_ tempt me right now—jet lag has eroded my diplomatic skills. I'm headed to the hotel for a bath and a nap. Coco has invited your beef to join us for dinner in town. Want to join us?"

"My _beef_?"

"Your hunky bodyguards. She thinks they'll add spice to her fundraising calendar. Say, around six? Bring my brother if you two are still _friends_ then."

Why not? Better than soaking her head in her maudlin thoughts.

"Sure."

After she saw Coco and Zuri into a taxi, she didn't feel like going back into the tent. She toed off her shoes and once again walked to the tideline of the bay. After folding her jeans into cuffs, she stepped into the sea. And took the first deep breath she'd had all day.

How was it that her heart held its steady vigil? That its messages could be heard over the facts she kept trotting out in her mind?

The bay water was cool against her skin. She wriggled her toes in the sand before stepping into deeper water. She closed her eyes and felt the coolness seep up her legs as the water soaked the cuffs of her jeans.

"Going for a swim?"

Parker's voice startled her from her moment of peace.

He grinned. "I know, I shouldn't sneak up on people. But I couldn't resist."

He didn't touch her, but even so, her heart raced. She fought for something to say. "My work here is done." She forced a smile. "Our work."

"I have one more surprise."

She shook her head. "No, I'm good. Today was perfect."

He stepped closer. "Not quite."

She thought he was going to kiss her. Every cell in her body leaped into a frenzy of wanting.

"You want to know, I see it in your eyes."

"Busted."

"Thank God for the curiosity of scientists."

"Is it dancing? Thurston mentioned something about dancing."

A sexy smile curved his lips. "Nope. Not dancing. And I'll have to have a word with our Mr. Baxter. Evidently he can barely keep a secret. The surprise is back at your cottage."

The woman in her was alive and hungry for him on any terms. _Just one more time_. Then he'd leave and she'd head to—oh God, maybe she wouldn't take the position that Jackie offered. To be so close, to see him... it would be torture.

Doria's words slithered into her head. _You need to_ _get out of the way of the universe, Juliet, and let its powers play out without interference._

Today she'd celebrate. She could think later. And deal with all the rest tomorrow.

# Chapter Twenty-Nine

Parker was oddly quiet as they drove to her cottage. The afternoon sun warmed the day, but a coolness had settled into Juliet's chest. She was doing a mighty poor job of being in the moment. Of ignoring the conflicted truths rattling in her.

Parker held the door for her as she exited the Jeep.

"You go on in. I'll be there in a jiffy," he said.

She entered her cottage. Scanned the living room. Nothing had changed since she'd left that morning. A quick glance in the bedroom confirmed that no surprise awaited her there.

Her front door opened. She found Parker standing in her living room holding out a white cotton T-shirt. It bore a color print of Persa on the front with the words _Sea Turtle Champion_ printed in block letters below the silk-screened photo.

Her heart dived to her belly. Whatever surprise she'd been hoping for, a T-shirt wasn't it.

She took the shirt from his hands.

"Don't you like it?"

She nodded, her disappointment swallowing any words she might have come up with.

Parker put his hands on her waist. "I thought we might see how it fits?"

He took the T-shirt from her hands and draped it over the arm of the couch. The bulge below his belt sent desire shocking through her veins. He lifted her blouse from the waistband of her jeans, pulled it over her head and threw it to the floor. His breath heaved in his chest as he dipped his head and touched his lips to hers.

"I waited all day for this moment," he murmured against her lips.

Her pulse raced and her knees went rubbery. He curved his palms under her breasts. She gave in, couldn't hold back. If he was leaving in the morning, she'd have one last memory.

He slid her jeans from her hips, tracking kisses along her waist with a tenderness that nearly broke her. Drawn by a magnetism she didn't comprehend—touching, tasting, being skin to skin and breath to breath—it would've been impossible to pull away even if she'd wanted to. There was no choosing, no thinking, just surrendering to intoxicating pleasure.

Hope lived in the bliss of his touch, in the giving and receiving, in the rising and falling rhythm of their bodies, a healing rhythm mysterious and yet comforting and reliable, like the beating of her heart. Enveloped by the spreading warmth of joy, her body became a vessel for the goodness, the rightness, the perfection that emerged and flowed from him to her. He carried her to her bed and stripped off his clothes. As he entered her, she gave in to the pure, erotic animal inside of her without guilt or shame or worry. Every time she thought she'd reached a limit, Parker took her deeper into the raw, untamed passion that beat its wings in her soul and lit a fire in her heart.

When her breath returned, she traced her palms along the muscles of his back, memorizing every inch.

"I'm crushing you," he said against her cheek.

"Consider me happy to be crushed."

She didn't want to move. Didn't want to break the spell. All her life she'd studied and worked for the future. But after making love with Parker, even with all the raging passion, she felt a glorious stillness. A wondrous, beautiful now.

"That was... magic," she whispered.

He shimmied back a few inches and looked into her eyes, a gentle smile softening his lips. "So now you believe in magic?"

"I can't help it. Mystery, magic—there's no difference, is there? Magic is just mystery we don't understand." But her heart, open as it was, couldn't bat back her thoughts. Images of Parker on the yacht with Rachael roared in, dragging dark and heavy doubt behind them. "But..."

His face stilled. He tilted his head, his eyes searching hers. "But?"

She had to say it. Had to know. She drew back, opening a space between them on the bed. "I saw you with Rachael. On the yacht. Kissing her."

His eyebrows bunched together as he frowned. "Rachael surprised me. I wasn't expecting her, but I felt I had to speak with her. I owed her that. And to clarify, she kissed me on the cheek. _I_ didn't kiss her. " He recounted his conversation with Rachael. "You might not believe me, but being with you has shown me that I didn't know love." He levered himself up onto his elbows. "Loving you, I discovered what true love feels like. And I also know now that a shared worldview—shared values—has to go along with loving. I respect you, admire you, and God knows I want you."

Though her heart was screaming with joy, her brain would not let go. "If you know now that you don't love Rachael, but you didn't know it back then, what's to keep you from changing your mind about me? Having some new realization later?"

He laughed softly. "This isn't about my mind, Juliet." He took her hand in his and placed it on his heart. The steady beat throbbed against her palm. "Love lives here. I wish I had words to make you believe me. I love you. And I know that losing you would drive me crazy."

His words landed, but her heart heard beyond the words. He really was in love with her. She felt oddly happy, as if seeing herself, feeling herself—her whole self—for the first time.

She put her finger to his lips. "I love you, Parker." Saying the words she'd held back for so long felt like unburdening a load, like opening a dam and letting a river flow free.

He twined a lock of her hair around his finger. "I'd hoped, but I didn't know."

"I didn't want you to know. I was afraid for you to know. Afraid to admit I loved you even to myself. The Greeks have a saying: _Saga po poli_ —I love you too much. I hadn't believed it was possible to love too much. But I understand now."

He narrowed his eyes. "It might be possible to love too much, Juliet. But I'm willing to risk it."

He pushed up in the bed and sat at the edge of the mattress. The abrupt distance whooshed in, and her heart thumped out a protest.

"I should own up to something. I promised I'd tell you why I've resisted help, why I've shunned taking advice."

She knew asking for help didn't come easy to him. But when she heard his horrific tale about the con artist doctor who had milked his family of funds and nearly cost his mother her life, she understood why.

"You pushed me, Juliet. Pushed me to face up to my fear, to break the hold of the past and begin to trust. To be willing to ask for help and to recognize when I need it. I can't promise I'll be good at asking—it's a muscle that's just barely waking up. But I do promise to do my best." A cool glint entered his eyes. "And maybe you'll discover that you loosed a force you want to stuff back into its box."

He ran his fingers from her shoulder to her elbow and then down to curl around her hand. "Want to know how you can help me?"

His palm was warm around her fingers but the piercing look in his eyes made her breath catch. "How could I possibly help you?"

"By answering a question."

Her heart skittered in her chest as he left the bed. "A question?"

He didn't respond as he strode over to his jeans. He lifted them from the floor and pulled a small flat box from the front pocket. He returned to the bed and rested his hip against the mattress. Without a word, he opened the box and pressed it into her hand.

Nestled in a cushion of blue velvet was a gold ring with an intertwined key pattern that she'd seen on traditional Greek jewelry. Mounted at its center was a brilliantly cut diamond. She stared for a moment, unbelieving.

"Don't you like it? Shirley and Thurston helped me pick out the setting."

"It's... it's beautiful."

With the gentlest touch, he lifted her chin until they looked into each other's eyes. "Will you marry me? I want the privilege of loving you completely, publicly and legally. I can't imagine living a day without you in my life."

Her busy brain kicked into gear all over again. "But I push your buttons."

He grinned, nodding. "Most of them. I want you—the good, the bad, the tricky." He traced a finger over the hand holding the box. "The sublime."

Her mind was still doggedly fighting its cause. "But what about your doubts about relationships?"

"My grandfather once told me that if we don't walk through the doors that doubt throws in our path, we'll never know what's on the other side." He took the ring from the box and held it up to her. "He also told me that love takes time—a lifetime. I believe him now. And I want to live my life, that lifetime, with you. But I wanted you to have some time and space away from me to consider your feelings, what you want for your own life. It's why I spent the past four painful nights away."

_Doubt_. She studied his face and realized what she had to do—give up _her_ doubts. But even now, another crept in.

"What about my work? Your work?

"Wherever, whenever, we'll be connected. Miles don't matter."

An inner trembling shuddered in her chest as her heart began to win the battle with her mind. "Jackie offered me a job at the Albion Bay lab of her rescue center," she said as the reality behind his words began to manifest. "At least for while she's out with her baby."

"Remind me to kiss her for that. Or offer to scrub out sea lion pens." He gestured with the ring he still held in his fingers. "You didn't answer my question."

"Persistent man."

"So I've been told." He opened his other hand and dropped the ring onto his flattened palm.

"You once told me how important it is to learn the right risks to take, _and_ you taught me how to face down fear. Loving you is a risk I'm willing to brave." She inhaled a deep breath. "Especially since you'll be with me all the way."

He took her hands in his. "I'd like to think I'm not such a big risk. But I can't promise it won't take me time to trust you to tell me what's going on. I might keep the bodyguards."

She chuckled. "Coco would love that, but don't you dare. It's Albion Bay, Parker. As in Sonoma, California. I'd hardly need a bodyguard there. The toughest foe I'll face will be a six-hundred-pound sea lion."

Parker laughed. "Another good reason to keep the bodyguards."

He slipped the ring onto her finger. The kiss he placed on her lips was the sweetest of her life. But the emotion in her heart demanded to be spoken. She pressed her palm against his chest and leaned away. "You've given me a precious gift, Parker. For the first time ever, I'm not at odds with my emotions, as if my heart and my brain—all the parts of me—are finally on the same team."

"Popular team," he said, raising her hand from his chest to his lips and kissing her palm. "I may buy a branded jersey."

Even though she was riddled with emotions she could barely name, he could make her laugh. "I'll lend you my T-shirt."

He caught her laugh with another kiss. She linked her arms around his neck. The muscles of his shoulders bunched as he resisted her effort to tug him down to the mattress.

"I think we should go for an evening swim," he said, breaking off the kiss. "There are still several sultry island fantasies I've yet to cross off my bucket list." He held out his hand, and she let him pull her to her feet. "I hear the water in the sea caves is warm at this time of year."

The fantasy bloomed inside her, spreading heat and want, igniting the passion that scared her but she knew she couldn't live without. She wrapped her arms around him, pulling his bare chest to her breasts. "Sometimes I like the bossy, assertive, high-handed Parker."

"Lucky me."

She trailed her fingers down his back to his hips and then lower. "Don't let it go to your head."

"Nope. Going somewhere else entirely." He lifted her in his arms and carried her back to the bed.

They didn't make it to the sea caves. At least not that night.

# Epilogue

Parker closed his eyes and let the Sonoma summer sun warm his back. The laughter of family and friends enjoying the wedding reception he'd worked two months to perfect surrounded him, and he felt a deep sense of satisfaction. But the post-wedding photo session, though smoothly orchestrated by Barb and her staff from _Sommelier_ , had seemed endless. His jaw ached from smiling, even though he'd been doing a lot of grinning since Juliet had accepted his marriage proposal. Some would say he'd rushed the wedding—they'd crammed Juliet's move from Greece and the wedding planning into two months. But the truth was he hadn't wanted to wait one day more than necessary to say _I do_.

"You're obsessed, you know that, right?"

His cousin Coco's lilting tease dragged him out of the first quiet moment he'd had all day.

"I saw you adjusting the angle of the punch bowl a few minutes ago," she said with a chuckle. She aimed her camera at him and clicked off a shot. "The _punch bowl_? Really, Parker—you should be focused on having a good time."

"Maybe adjusting punch bowls _is_ my way of having a good time."

"Testy, are we?"

"I haven't had a minute alone with Juliet since yesterday."

"You have a lifetime together ahead of you. And I can't say I don't envy you." She glanced around. "Where is our lovely bride?"

"Precisely what I was about to find out. She's not with Alex and Jackie?"

" _Those_ two. You'd think no one else has ever produced a baby." Coco's light Italian accent made the word _baby_ sound magical.

"Did I hear my name being taken in vain?" Alex asked as he joined them under the shade of the oak. He juggled baby Cole as he cradled him in his arms.

Coco caressed Cole's finger. "So tiny. So smooth." She backed up and framed a shot. "Smile, Alex. This is for posterity."

"Cole may be tiny, but he has lungs like his mother. And preferences just as strong. When he wakes up, this little one will be wailing for Jackie. I'm thanking everything sacred that Juliet agreed to take on Jackie's job. In these early months, I'm merely an accessory."

Parker laughed. "Wait till he's old enough to catch, throw and run. You'll be useful then."

Alex rocked Cole and grinned. "Jackie wants him to be a scientist."

Coco frowned. "It's a bit early to be making those decisions, don't you think? He's not even two months old."

Alex snuggled a kiss to Cole's head. "And already weighs half a ton." He looked around. "Where's Juliet?"

" _Exactly_ what I want to know." Parker elbowed Coco. "You're on punch bowl duty. I'm off to find my wife."

Alex quirked his lips. "Punch bowl duty?"

"Let Coco explain. She's rather focused on my punch bowl."

"I thought she was scoping out men for her calendar," Alex said, grinning. "Plenty of victims at this soirée."

Coco swatted Alex. "I'd be _much_ further along if you two would cooperate and pose for me."

"Hey, baby on board here. No quick moves." Alex backed away, managing to poke Coco at the same time.

"In your dreams, Coco," Parker said. "Besides, what about that boyfriend of yours?"

"He's _not_ my boyfriend. Adrian hired him to work on my computer system."

"For a week? He must not be very good at what he does." Parker shot a sly grin at Alex. There was nothing more fun than piling on family.

"He's..." Coco wrinkled her nose. "I don't have to explain anything to you two."

"Nope. No explanation needed," Alex said. When Coco reached out to smack him again, Alex twirled away, laughing and cooing at Cole.

"Nope." Parker used his hands to pretend to frame Coco for a photograph. "I think we get the picture."

Parker felt no guilt when Coco stomped off. She teased the rest of them often enough.

Hands on hips, he turned to survey the crowd. And to search for his wife.

It was harder for Parker to get through well-wishing family and friends than it was to power down a polo field against the best team of the season. But he saw a way through, and when he was able to dodge his Aunt Thea and Alex's sister, Sabrina, he headed into the relative quiet of his library.

Where _had_ Juliet gone off to? Since the one place he'd like for her to be was their bedroom, he decided he'd start his search there.

The door was closed. His heart picked up its beat as he eased it open.

No Juliet.

He strode down the hall to the guest suite. Juliet had slept in there the previous night and hadn't let him see her until she walked down the aisle. It seemed like a silly custom to him, but Zuri, Coco and Juliet had insisted. As had his mother. _And_ Juliet's mother. So he'd been outnumbered.

He tried the handle. Locked. He knocked.

"It's me," he said, louder than he'd intended.

The door cracked open. "Thank goodness," Juliet said. "I need help."

If she'd looked like a sexy angel all wrapped in layers of silk and lace when she'd walked down the aisle of the family chapel at Trovare, she'd recently lost her wings. The woman now standing in front of him was pure—maybe not so pure—sexy.

"Happy to oblige," he said as he reached toward her, intending to draw her into his arms and say to hell with the damned wedding reception.

"Oh, no," she said, backing away. "I need you to help me pin this train up so I can dance." She waved a piece of paper at him. "The directions are right here."

He batted the paper away. "I'm much more intent on taking clothes off you."

"Be serious, Parker." She again brandished the page of instructions. "If we gather the material just so, it's supposed to form a bustle."

He took the paper from her and let it flutter to the floor. "I am _most_ serious." He slid his arms around her and drew her to him, lowering his lips to hers. Nothing in the world felt as good as kissing Juliet. Well, almost nothing. He reached behind her and started to unbutton her wedding gown.

She broke off their kiss and wiggled out of his grasp. "We have _hundreds_ of people downstairs."

He stroked his hand down her arm. "I do know how to count. It's been thirty-one hours since I've had you in my arms. That's thirty-one hours too many." He bent down, ignoring her protests, and lifted her in his arms. "And I still can't believe I let you all make me sleep in a separate room last night," he added as he carried her toward the bed.

She slipped out of his arms and planted her feet on the floor. "You worked hard on this party and—"

"I don't give a damn about the party. I have the woman I love to lavish with pleasure."

Her eyes flashed. "But we have to cut the—"

His hungry kiss muffled her protest.

"They can wait—a bride and groom have _some_ privileges at their own reception, don't they?" He pressed her back onto the bed and began to trail kisses along the nape of her neck. "Party rule number one: if the hosts have a good time, the guests will too."

She drew in a breath as he nibbled on her ear. "You'll be in charge of explaining."

"I doubt anyone will ask." He teased her lips open with his tongue as he bunched up the skirt of her gown and trailed one hand up her thigh.

"Mmmmm, I'm liking your logic," she murmured against his lips. "Our guests can most definitely wait."

THE END

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# Thank you!

Thanks for reading _No Stranger to Love_. I hope you enjoyed Parker and Juliet's love story!

  * **Would** you like to know when my next books are available? You can sign up for my new release newsletter at <http://www.pamelaaares.com/newsletter-signup/>.

  * You've just read the ninth book in the Tavonesi Series. The other books in the series are:

Love Bats Last (Book #1, Alex and Jackie)

Thrown By Love (Book #2, Chloe and Scotty)

Fielder's Choice (Book #3, Alana and Matt)

Love on the Line (Book #4, Cara and Ryan)

Aim For Love (Book #5, Sabrina and Kaz)

The Heart of the Game (Book #6, Cody and Zoe)

Love in the Vineyard (Book #7, Adrian and Natasha)

A Very Daring Christmas (Book#8, Cameron and Jake)

No Stranger to Love (Book #9, Parker and Juliet)

Until Love Finds You (Book #10, Coco and Evan) coming December 2016

  * Readers have the power to make or break a book's reputation. Reviews help other readers find books they love. I appreciate reviews from all perspectives and would love to hear your opinion. If you have the time, please leave a review and let me know what you think about _No Stranger to Love_ _._ And I'd _love_ to have a copy of your review! You can email me at Pamela@PamelaAares.com if you'd like to share your review.

I write so that readers may enjoy the experience of reading my books. I hope you enjoy every one!

_Thank you_ so much for reading and for spending time with me.

In gratitude,

Pamela Aares

### And don't miss...

# Other Books by Pamela

The Tavonesi Series:

Love Bats Last (Book #1, Alex and Jackie)

Thrown By Love (Book #2, Chloe and Scotty)

Fielder's Choice (Book #3, Alana and Matt)

Love on the Line (Book #4, Cara and Ryan)

Aim For Love (Book #5, Sabrina and Kaz)

The Heart of the Game (Book #6, Cody and Zoe)

Love in the Vineyard (Book #7, Adrian and Natasha)

A Very Daring Christmas (Book#8, Cameron and Jake)

No Stranger to Love (Book #9, Parker and Juliet)

Until Love Finds You (Book #10, Coco and Evan) coming December 2016

also available:

Angels Among Us Series

Jane Austen and the Archangel (A Regency Love Story)

Book One in The Tavonesi Series

A stormy night changes their lives forever...

The baseball diamond isn't the only field for all-star player Alex Tavonesi; he also runs his family's prestigious vineyard. What he can't seem to run is his love life. He's closing in on the perfect vintage and the perfect game, but so far the perfect woman has eluded him.

Veterinarian Jackie Brandon is eluding her aristocratic past and memories of a soccer star who jilted her just before their wedding. She devotes herself to a marine mammal rescue center on the northern California coast, where hundreds of seals and sea lions are washing up dead.

A chance meeting in a midnight storm brings Alex and Jackie together to rescue a stranded whale. Watching her work, he realizes she's the passionate, courageous woman he thought he'd never find--he just has to overcome her deep distrust of jocks. Jackie's passion and courage lead her to discover what's killing the sea mammals. The culprits want to silence her, and Alex is the only one standing in their way. What will he sacrifice to save the woman he loves?

Click here to buy Love Bats Last

Book Two in The Tavonesi Series

A kiss in a dark alcove triggers the greatest challenge of their lives...

Ace pitcher Scotty Donovan has been traded from his longtime team—and hates it. But to his surprise, he now finds himself in the sweetest game of his life: winning the heart of smart, sexy physics professor Chloe McNalley.

Chloe loves teaching, but she's never fit into academia. When she falls for Scotty, she discovers his arms and heart are where she belongs. They share a passion for the game, a fascination for the mysteries of the universe and an increasing love for one another.

Then Chloe inherits Scotty's new team. As player and team owner, they shouldn't be dating. They try to hide their passion, until a blackmailer threatens them personally and professionally. Exposure could be the end of everything--Scotty's career, Chloe's team ownership, and their new love—unless they find a way to transcend the taboo standing between them.

Click here to buy Thrown By Love

Book Three in The Tavonesi Series

When love's the game, you can't play it safe...

All-Star shortstop Matt Darrington has more than a problem. His wife died, and now he's juggling a too-smart-for-her-britches six-year-old and the grueling pace of professional baseball. Worse, his daughter is mom shopping. When they explore a local ranch, she decides the beautiful, free-spirited tour guide is premium mom material. Matt thinks the sexy guide looks like Grade-A trouble.

Alana Tavonesi loves her cosmopolitan life in Paris. But when she inherits the renowned Tavonesi Olive Ranch, she has to return to California and face obligations she never wanted. Selling the place is her first instinct, but life at the ranch begins to crack her open, exposing the dreams hidden inside her heart.

On a lark she leads a ranch tour, where she meets Matt Darrington. His physical power and a captivating sensual appeal fire her in a way no man ever has, but he has a kid—and being a stepmom is a responsibility Alana will never be ready for. Still... she can't keep her mind or her hands off him.

When Matt's daughter goes missing from a kid's camp at the ranch, Alana organizes the search effort, knowing from experience the areas a bright child would be drawn to explore. As she and Matt work together to search for the little girl, Alana discovers that father and daughter have won her heart. Yet it may be too late for love...

Click here to buy Fielder's Choice

Book Four in The Tavonesi Series

Hiding her identity was a small price to pay for freedom...

Heiress Cara Barrington fled the opulent world of her rich and famous family to carve out an idyllic existence on the California Coast. In the sleepy town of Albion Bay, she's embraced the simple way of living she's always craved. No one knows her identity, and she's free from the pressures of wealth... until her sexy new neighbor threatens the unpretentious world she's worked so hard to build.

All-Star athlete Ryan Rea enjoys his high-profile status. He's used to charming his way into the heart and bed of any woman he desires while keeping his own heart secure behind a steel wall. When he meets Cara, she throws him a curveball—she's unlike any woman he's ever met, and he has to have her.

Cara's growing attraction to Ryan endangers her hard-won anonymity, and when she inherits the family business, she must choose between the world she left behind and her new life in the community she's come to cherish. But facing up to her responsibilities could destroy her freedom and cost her the greatest love she's ever known.

Click here to buy Love on the Line

Book Five in the Tavonesi Series

Attacked at the premiere of her latest film and haunted in dreams by the character she played, Hollywood sensation Sabrina Tavonesi has only weeks to heal her injured shoulder and get over the her secret nightmares before filming begins on the sequel.

Pitching phenom Kaz Tokugawa is on the verge of reaching his dream to make the Major Leagues, but nothing is going right. Sacred family vows are holding him back. When the team captain asks for his help rehabbing his sister's injured shoulder, Kaz can't refuse. As Sabrina sneaks into his well-armored heart, he knows he's made a mistake.

When Kaz is accused of murdering a drug lord threatening his family, only Sabrina knows the truth. But will the secrets they're hiding destroy their lives as well as their love?

Click here to buy Aim For Love

Book Six in the Tavonesi Series

From USA Today Bestselling Author Pamela Aares comes THE HEART OF THE GAME, the sixth book in the Tavonesi family series featuring passion, mystery, and well-won love!

Italian heiress Zoe Tavonesi's idyllic life has been turned upside down. Her grief-stricken father has uprooted the entire family to the California wine country, shattering Zoe's plans to open the art gallery her late mother always wanted. But when Cody Bond, the hot catcher for the Giants walks into her life and agrees to ride in her charity polo match, the intriguing American soon has Zoe reconsidering her plans and her dreams.

Estranged from his family, Cody is determined not to screw up his career with relationships, especially when Zoe and the loving, tight-knit, aristocratic Tavonesis remind him of everything his dysfunctional American family isn't. Cody may be a master of control on the baseball field but his iron will can't shield him from the desire Zoe ignites.

When a series of terrifying events threaten Zoe's life, Cody must swallow his pride and enlist the help of his estranged father, a former CIA operative, to protect her. But will Cody's inability to trust, and the criminals threatening to destroy Zoe's family, kill any future for the fiery passion they've discovered? Or will Zoe's love free Cody from the past, and help him believe in the power of love?

Click here to buy The Heart of the Game

Book Seven in the Tavonesi Series

In **LOVE IN THE VINEYARD** , a one-night stand brought Natasha Raley the greatest gift of her life—her son. She wants to give him a better life than she had, but a gambling bet lands both of them in a homeless shelter. When the shelter director gives her a ticket to a masquerade ball, Natasha finds herself dancing with the most intriguing and mysterious man she's ever met.

Adrian Tavonesi is creating a paradise on earth in Sonoma California, determined to be worthy of his vast fortune by making the world a better place. Convinced women only like him for his money and his status, he invents an anonymous relationship with the beautiful Natasha to create a dream world for both of them.

As passion flares into an all-consuming affair, the lies Adrian and Natasha have told each other threaten to ruin everything. Adrian is kind, generous, and sincere—Natasha knows he would be the perfect father for her son. But will her past and the devastating gamble she once made destroy her new world? Or will betting on the truth this time lead to the perfect, ever-lasting love?

Click here to buy Love in the Vineyard

Book Eight in the Tavonesi Series

" _The greatest dare is the one that leads to true love."_

_In_ A Very Daring Christmas _, USA Today Bestselling author Pamela Aares' newest book in the Tavonesi Series, an invitation to join his teammate for Christmas throws sports phenom Jake Ryder straight into the path of Hollywood sensation Cameron Kelley, the one woman he's fighting to forget._

When Cameron Kelly agreed to leverage her status as a Hollywood A-list movie star to help children in Dominia, nothing prepared her for the unthinkable poverty in the remote villages. Nor did she expect to run into a major league baseball star who frees all of her pent-up desires. The next man she lets anywhere close to her heart will be a normal guy, not a celebrity, and certainly not a cocky All Star. Yet when she sees the sexy athlete coaching the local kids in a makeshift sandlot _,_ her heart and her body stop listening to her head.

Flying high after winning the World Series, Jake Ryder is in the Caribbean to rehab his season-sore body and coach village children who are crazy about baseball. Running into Cameron, though, may send him packing. The heat sparking between the two of them has him rethinking his Two-Date Rule, something he swore he'd never do. And when she tries to manipulate him into a publicity stunt to fund her UNICAN project, he decides it's game over. He's been used too many times by women with an agenda. He won't be used again.

A surprise invitation to Trovare Castle throws them together once more. A mysterious prince and a fatherless boy complicate their already tense reunion, but they soon discover that the greatest dare is the one that leads to true love.

Click here to buy A Very Daring Christmas

Book Ten in the Tavonesi Series

Pamela Aares' USA Today bestselling Tavonesi Series continues with another suspenseful, page-turning and heart-warming novel about the healing power of love.

Reclusive tech billionaire Evan Forbes finds himself lost and lonely in the secretive world he's cloaked around himself. He may have changed the way the world communicates with his innovative, high-tech businesses, but the language of the heart has brought nothing but pain.

When Evan meets the vivacious heiress Coco Tavonesi on a garden tour, she fires a spark of desire he can't resist. Pretending to be an ordinary computer geek, he conceals his true identity and accepts the thirty-dollar an hour job she offers, tracking down a hacker who's stolen her prized nature photographs. After years of hiding his famous name and his own incredible wealth behind a disguise, has he met the woman worth revealing himself to? Can he risk his heart?

Coco doesn't count on falling for the sexy techie, but when she playfully snaps a photo of Evan, his resulting anger triggers fears from her past. What does he have to hide? Is Evan the quirky, sweet geek he seems, or yet another fortune hunter using this chance to get close to her?

When Evan discovers that Coco is being hacked by a high-level genius, he's determined to bring the criminal down. But the hacker accesses Coco's photos of Evan and threatens blackmail and violence, and suddenly the secrets Coco and Evan have kept from one another endanger not only the love blooming between them, but their very lives.

Click here to buy Until Love Finds You

# ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Pamela Aares is a _USA Today_ Bestselling, award-winning author of contemporary and historical romance novels. Her contemporary series, _The Tavonesi Series_ , explores the lives, loves, friendships and sizzling romances of the Tavonesi family.

Her popularity as a romance writer continues to grow with each new book release, so much so, that the Bay area author has drawn comparisons by reviewers to Nora Roberts.

Pamela Aares writes romance books that she loves reading, particularly those that entertain, transport and inspire dreams while captivating and tugging at the heart. She takes her readers on a journey with complex characters in both contemporary and historical settings who are thrown in situations that tempt love, adventure and self-discovery.

Before becoming a romance author, Aares wrote and produced award-winning films including _Your Water, Your Life_ , featuring actress Susan Sarandon and NPR series _New Voices, The Powers of the Universe_ and _The Earth's Imagination_. She lives in Northern California with her husband and two very curious cats.

Pamela loves to hear from readers! You can contact her via her website:

www.PamelaAares.com

# UNTIL LOVE FINDS YOU, Copyright 2016 Pamela Aares

JULIET AND PARKER — _The Tavonesi Series_ , Book #9

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in articles or reviews. For information address P.O. Box 750924, Petaluma, CA 94975-0924.

http://www.PamelaAares.com

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Cover design by www.jdsmith-design.com

Interior Layout by www.formatting4U.com

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

