Greek for Beginners Read Online Free Page A

you ever race?”
    â€œI considered it at one point, but no.” He shrugged. “Ultimately, I was more interested in the cars — that is to say their overall design — than how fast they could travel on a closed course. So, when I was eighteen, I bought a 1957 Porsche Speedster I found advertised in the newspaper.”
    â€œWow. Nice first car.” Hers had been her grandmother’s ancient sedan. It was the size of a small country and guzzled fuel like a college student guzzles coffee while studying for final exams. Darcie had happily traded up to the decade-old compact she still owned.
    Nick was chuckling. “Not really. It needed a lot of work, which is why I could afford it. I spent the entire summer tracking down all of the parts to rebuild its engine.” His smile was both nostalgic and proud.
    â€œAnd you were hooked,” she guessed.
    She’d felt that way the first time she’d composed an article for her high school’s newspaper. Three paragraphs on changes to the lunch menu and she’d known what she wanted to be when she grew up. Now, eight years after earning a degree in journalism, she could barely claim to be a journalist.
    Nick was saying, “Hooked. Yes, I was. Especially after I decided to sell the Speedster at auction in Kalamai two summers later. Collectors came not only from all over Greece, but from other parts of Europe to bid on it. I loved the excitement. So, I used the money from the sale to buy another car, fix it up and auction it off. Later, I decided I did not want to go to the auctions, I wanted to run them. So, that is what I do.”
    She heard satisfaction in his tone. Pride. How long had it been since she’d felt either of those emotions when it came to her own job? How long had it been since she’d dreamed of bigger and better things for herself when it came to her career? Her life? Settling. Darcie had done so damned much of it.
    â€œDid you come to Greece on business then?” she asked.
    Nick shook his head and some of his dark hair fell across his forehead. It lent an air of recklessness to his already pulse-pounding good looks.
    â€œNot this time. I came for a family wedding.”
    Wedding. Even spoken with Nick’s gorgeous accent, the word brought Darcie up short, reminding her as it did of her recent close call with “I do.” How different her life might be right now if a week ago she hadn’t finally found the courage to act on what her heart — and, well, Becky — had been telling her for so long. Tad wasn’t the right man for her.
    â€œYet you were going to leave today.”
    â€œI would have been back. The ceremony does not take place until the Saturday after next.”
    His response had her blinking in surprise. “That’s more than two weeks away, and you’re already here?”
    â€œIt is expected,” he replied.
    Darcie detected a slight edge to his tone and thought she understood its source. She knew all about family expectations. She had three sisters, two older, one younger, all of them happily married and busily procreating as if the survival of the human race depended on them. Meanwhile, Darcie had passed the big three-oh mark in the spring and the only thing that remained of her eagerly anticipated nuptials was the stack of gifts that would have to be returned when she got back.
    A groan escaped. At Nick’s quizzical glance, she said, “I feel your pain. My family can be, well, difficult to please at times. So, who’s getting married?”
    â€œMy brother Pieter.”
    â€œI take it he lives here.”
    â€œYes. As does my entire family.”
    Yet Nick made his home in a city across the Atlantic. Interesting. “No apron strings for you,” she murmured.
    â€œApron strings?”
    â€œNothing. Are you and your brother close?”
    â€œWe used to be closer.”
    At that, his lips flattened into a grim line, leaving her