Her Greek Doctor's Proposal

She shook her head as she wrapped an elastic around her ponytail. Who was she kidding? She knew the reason, which was a certain megahunky Greek doctor her vain side wanted to look good for.

She threw on a sundress, swiped on a gloss of lipstick, and headed out of the door. Already perspiring again from the shimmering heat, she slipped inside the group’s equally hot rented sedan. She nosed the car down the winding road out of Delphi, and, before she turned onto the highway, paused for a moment to take in the incredible view.

On every horizon, partly sheer cliffs scattered with pines met tumbles of boulders that looked as though they’d been broken apart then glued back together by some giant hand, or perhaps the gods and goddesses of Greek lore. The mountains cradled the valley below, filled with the distinctive silvery-gray leaves of an endless, undulating sea of olive trees that went on as far as she could see. Where the valley ended, the trees seemed to flow right into the Gulf of Corinth, the water such an incredible azure blue that, every time she saw it, she felt amazed all over again. And beyond that azure sea, another range of mountains met the sky that today was equally blue, but at times reflected an ethereal beauty when mistiness embraced the entire scene.

Just looking at it filled her with a reassuring sense of tranquility, the same way walking the ancient Delphi ruins did, hearing the voices of the past. Before she left, she’d take her camera on one last hike of this historic place that still felt so untamed. To remember it by.

With a last, lingering look, she turned onto the highway, her thoughts turning to Tom and Melanie. A bead of sweat slid down her spine as she wondered how they would be feeling when she saw them. Surely they’d have improved by now, since they’d been on antibiotics for hours.

For the first time all day, she let the niggle of worry she’d pushed aside grab hold and squeeze. After her parents had died, Mel and Tom had wrapped their arms around her as if she’d become their surrogate daughter. Advised her on grad school and now her PhD program. Helped set her up at digs close to home so she could still care for her sisters. Got her here as a paid assistant to work on her parents’ project and her dissertation.

They were such special people. What if they were seriously ill?

No. Borrowing trouble was a sure way to have trouble take over, as her dad used to say. She’d had to be in charge at home whenever her parents were gone on digs, and full-time after they died. That had taught her a lot about leadership, and it was time to lead, not fret.

She had to get up to speed on what Tom’s crew was supposed to be doing in the caves to make sure it happened. With so little time left on the dig schedule, not a single hour could be wasted by worrying. She knew Tom and Mel would agree, and that her parents would have too.

The sign for Kastorini was in both Greek and English, thank goodness. Laurel turned off the highway, concentrating on driving the steeply curving road that sported the occasional rock that had rolled down from the mountainside. And the term “hairpin curve”? Now she knew exactly what that meant.

If she hadn’t already been sweating from the heat, this crazy trek would have done it. The road finally flattened and swooped toward a thick stone archway flanked by high, obviously ancient walls, and passing through it was like entering a different world. One minute she was driving with the mountain soaring on one side and dropping off on the other, the next she was surrounded by stone and stucco buildings sporting terracotta rooftops and draped with vines and magenta bougainvillea. Cheerful pots of flowers lined balconies and sat by inviting front doors. Farther down the narrow, cobbled street, men with small cups of coffee relaxed on patios in front of several tavernas, engaged in lively conversation as they watched her drive by.

The utter charm of the place made Laurel smile. And as Andros had promised, she easily spotted the ancient-looking clock tower and found the medical clinic with a few bona fide parking spaces right in front of it.

The building looked as old as the rest of Kastorini, and she wasn’t sure what to expect when she went inside. A small, fairly modern-looking waiting room was currently empty, but within moments a young woman appeared.

“May I help you?” she asked.

The fact that, right away, the woman spoke English instead of Greek, proved Laurel’s foreignness was more than obvious, though she’d accepted months ago that she didn’t exactly blend in as a local.

“Hello. I’m Laurel Evans, working with the Wagners. I believe they’re patients here? Dr. Drakoulias told me I could come see them.”

“Ah, yes.” Her pleasant smile faded to seriousness. “He is with a patient right now and wanted to talk to you before you see them. I am Christina, one of the nurses here. I will take you to Dr. Drakoulias’s office.”

Laurel followed the woman down the hallway. A side door opened, and she immediately recognized the deep rumble of Dr. Drakoulias’s voice.

She couldn’t follow many of his quickly spoken Greek words, but saw his hand was cupped beneath the elbow of a stooped-over elderly woman as they stepped from what looked like an examination room, obviously helping her stay steady as she walked. A small frown creased his brow just as it had when he’d been looking at Laurel’s gash.

Whatever the woman said in return made him laugh, banishing the frown and making him look younger. His eyes twinkled as he shook his head, saying something else in a teasing tone, making her laugh in return. She lifted a gnarled hand to his cheek and gave it a pat, then a pinch that looked as if it had to hurt, but he didn’t seem fazed.

Christina was chuckling too, as she took hold of the woman’s other arm to walk with her back down the hall.

Laurel wanted to ask what the woman had said that was so amusing, and if she always pinched people like that, but didn’t want to sound nosy. Dr. Drakoulias turned his attention to Laurel, and she felt the power of those eyes and that magnetic smile clear down to her toes. “Very punctual, I see. In my experience, the workers on the dig usually show up late. Or not at all.”

“I admit it’s easy to get distracted up there. But I had to learn fast how to keep track of time.” Her own and everyone else’s.

“So apparently you didn’t find a gold statue today.”

Her heart lurched hard in her chest and she stared at him, relaxing when she realized he was just kidding. “Not today, I’m afraid.”

“Just so you know, I’d consider that a good reason to miss an appointment.” He gave her a teasing smile that sent her attention to his beautiful mouth, which was not a good place for it to be. Thankfully, he reached for her hand and she followed his gaze to the new bandage. “Let’s get this cleaned up.”

“It’s all right, really. I put peroxide on it and a clean bandage.”

He grasped her elbow and walked to the sink, her injured hand still in his. “That’s good, but I’d like to clean it again, nonetheless. Better to prevent an infection than have to treat one.”

She couldn’t argue with that, and again watched his fingers gently and carefully remove the bandage. He looked closely at her palm for a long moment before he spoke. “It’s going to hurt a little, I’m sorry to say, but thoroughly washing this out is important. Are you ready?”

She nodded and braced herself as he turned on the faucet, holding the open cut directly underneath the cool stream. He was right, it definitely hurt, but no way was she going to be a baby about it. Biting her lip, she’d have sworn he about drained the town’s entire water supply and was just about to yell, Enough already! when he finally turned it off.

He wrapped her hand with a towel and gently dried it. “You were very brave. I appreciate that you didn’t scream in my ear like the last patient I did that to.”

The eyes that met hers held a pleasing mix of humor, warmth and admiration in their dark depths. “I reserve screaming for activities that truly warrant it,” she said. Then wanted to sink into the floor when his eyebrows lifted and something else mingled with the humor in his eyes. “Things like bungee-jumping, for example,” she added hastily.

“I see. So you’re a daredevil.”

“Um, not really.” Not about to admit she wouldn’t bungee-jump unless her life depended on it, and definitely wouldn’t admit the direction her thoughts had suddenly gone, she quickly changed the subject. “What is that stuff you’re putting on there?”

“Just a topical antibiotic.” With nowhere else to look, her gaze again got stuck on his face instead of his work on her hand. On his dark lashes, lowered over his eyes; his ridiculously sculpted cheekbones; his lips twisting a little as he wrapped white gauze over the cut. “This gauze bandage will keep it clean and dry, but I’d like to check it in a couple days.”

“It’ll be fine. Thank you.” It suddenly struck her that she probably needed to pay him. “What do I owe you, Dr. Drakoulias?”

“First, I’d like you to call me Andros, since Dr. Drakoulias reminds me of my father and I don’t want to feel old around a beautiful woman. Second, I’m the one who insisted on treating you, so it’s on the house. I might get a bad reputation if I chase ambulances, then hand unsuspecting patients a bill.”

She had to grin at the picture that conjured, and the smile in his eyes and on his lips grew in response. “So if anybody on the dig team gets hurt, I need to find a way to lure you to the site, then when your Hippocratic Oath kicks in, we’ll get free medical care? Good to know.”

“I’m pretty sure you’d have no trouble at all luring me there.”

Did he mean, because he was interested in archaeology? Or something else altogether? After all, he’d called her “beautiful.” She shoved aside the intriguing question, reminding herself she had work to focus on, and luring dreamy Dr. Drakoulias couldn’t be on the agenda, even if he was willing to be lured.

Though the thought alone put a hitch in her breath and sent a little electric zing from the top of her head to her toes.

“Are we going to see Mel and Tom now? Where are they?”

His expression instantly became neutral and professional. “They’re in the clinic hospital, which is attached to this building. But before you see them, I’d like to talk to you in my office.”

“Why?”

“Because,” he said, his lips tightening into a grim line, “they are both seriously ill.”

CHAPTER THREE

ANDROS WAS ALL too aware of the woman following close behind him down the clinic corridor. She smelled good. Like sweet lemons or grapefruit strewn with flowers, and he had an urge to bury his nose in the softness of her neck and breathe her in.

Something about her had stopped him in his tracks the first second he’d seen her on the mountain. Her blonde hair was the color of sunshine, pulled back into a thick, untidy ponytail that had flowed from beneath a creased canvas hat that was definitely for function, not style. The blue eyes that had met his were sharp and intelligent, and there was an exotic look to her features that made him want to keep looking. Maybe not a classic kind of beauty, but there was something intangible and appealing about her. Her skin was practically luminous without any makeup at all. He hadn’t thought much about it until this moment, but, compared to the carefully put-together women he used to date, he liked her natural look a lot.

Down, boy, he reminded himself. Now wasn’t the time to forget he was trying to reform the man who’d liked women far too much in the past, made-up, natural or anywhere in between.

Andros opened the door to his office and gestured for Laurel to go inside, wishing there were a little more room to move around. Usually he didn’t notice how his father’s old wooden desk that Christina joked was the size of an aircraft carrier practically filled the small space. At that moment, however, he was intensely aware of the close quarters.

Standing or sitting within inches of Laurel wasn’t the best idea, since he kept finding himself distracted by her scent and her smooth skin and soft-looking hair. There wasn’t much he could do about any of those problems, though, and he wanted privacy for this conversation. The last thing he needed was for a local to come into the clinic and overhear that there might be a contagion nearby.

“Have a seat.”

She sat and turned to him as he lowered himself into the chair next to her, trying not to bump his knees into hers. He pondered for a moment, wondering how much detail he should give her about the Wagners’ condition. She had to be worried, but instead of bombarding him with questions like a lot of people would, she waited patiently. He looked into her serious blue eyes and decided she could handle the truth, and deserved to know.

“Unfortunately, the Wagners are no better. I’m frankly surprised and concerned about that, after having them on IV fluids and antibiotics all day. As I mentioned before, I’m keeping them here overnight for observation. With any luck, they’ll improve, but we should have seen some improvement already.”

“Doesn’t pneumonia usually respond to antibiotics pretty fast?”

“Often, yes, especially in younger people and those with no underlying physical problems, like the Wagners. That’s the good news. But sometimes it doesn’t. The truth about this situation, though? The presentation of their pneumonia is unusual.”

“How so?”

“According to what they told me, Tom got what he thought was a cold a couple days before Melanie did. This morning Tom’s respiratory rate was about thirty breaths per minute, Mel’s twenty. Which indicates to me that she may have gotten it from him, which generally doesn’t happen with pneumonia. Both are showing symptoms of the pneumonia worsening.” He paused, hoping she wouldn’t get upset at what he had to warn her about next. “If that continues into the morning, I will recommend they be transported to a fully equipped hospital in a bigger city about an hour away. It has twenty-four-hour skilled care and equipment we don’t have.”

Her lush lips parted in surprise. “You really think that might be necessary? Can’t you just give them a different kind of antibiotic or something?”

“It’s not that simple. I’m hopeful they’ll improve and we can manage it here. I’m just making you aware that’s a possibility. I’d prefer you didn’t mention it to them, though. No need to worry them unnecessarily.”

“All right.” She nodded. “Are they… are they well enough for me to talk to them? If I have to take over leadership of the dig, I need to ask some questions. Find out more about the cave dig, since we were supposed to have our team meeting for the week tomorrow.”

The eyes that met his were full of worry and alarm, and he wanted to reassure her but couldn’t. He hadn’t seen pneumonia with quite this presentation before and figured she might as well talk to the Wagners now in case the situation slid south—which he feared very well might happen.

He stood, and she did too, biting her full lower lip as she looked up at him. Standing so close he could have tipped his head down to kiss her. The instant that thought came to mind, he looked into her eyes, the idea now so appealing, so damned near irresistible, he had to inhale a deep breath and quickly step back. “I’ll take you to see them now. They’re on oxygen but will be able to talk to you. I want you to wear a surgical mask.”

“You think I could make them sicker?”

“No. I think they might make you sick.”

“Make me sick?”

Her eyes widened, and he wanted to make sure she understood the possible risk, because he damned well didn’t want her to end up in the hospital too. “I told you before that it’s unusual they’ve both developed this. We just can’t know if it’s possibly contagious or not.”

He turned and led the way down the hall, again very aware of her walking closely behind as her sweet, citrusy scent wafted around him. He grabbed surgical masks from the supply cupboard outside the hospital wing and handed her one before putting on his own.

The Wagners were the only patients in the six-bed wing, and he was thankful for that. Tom Wagner lay motionless, his eyes still closed as they came to stand between the two beds, but Melanie Wagner opened her eyes and reached out to Laurel. She held Melanie’s hand between both of hers, and Andros realized too late he should have had her put gloves on. Or at least one on her good hand, and warned her not to touch the Wagners otherwise.

He mentally thrashed himself. Until they knew what they were dealing with here, every precaution had to be taken anytime someone came in contact with them.

“I’m so sorry to have to dump all the work on you, Laurel,” Melanie said in a whisper. “Isn’t this crazy?”

“Don’t worry about a thing, Mel,” Laurel said, her voice slightly muffled through the mask. “I’ll handle everything until you’re feeling better. Dr. Drakoulias says he hopes the antibiotics will kick in soon.”

“You won’t have any problems leading the team until we’re better. You’ve impressed me since day one on this dig.” Melanie gave Laurel a glimmer of a smile. “Find anything good today?”

“Mostly more potsherds. But the most exciting thing was a gold ring. I’m pretty sure it’s seventh century BC, but you’ll know that better than I. Can’t wait for you to look at it.”

“Me either. I—”

A coughing fit interrupted her speech, and when she finally stopped, her breathing was obviously more labored. Laurel turned to Andros, her eyes wide.

He glanced at the quietly beeping screen next to the bed and saw that Melanie’s respiratory rate had increased a little more from the last time he’d checked, which was not a good sign.

“Let’s keep this visit brief, Laurel,” he said, leaning close to speak in her ear. “The more they talk, the harder they have to breathe. Did you say you need to speak to Tom? I’ll wake him and you can ask him a couple quick questions before you go.”

He didn’t want her to feel as if he was rushing her out, but didn’t like the look of either of his patients. He adjusted the oxygen flow to both of them before rousing Tom with enough difficulty that it added another layer of worry.

“How are you feeling, Tom?”

The man opened his eyes and stared up at him, his mouth open, obviously having trouble breathing. “Hard to get air.”

“I know. I just gave you a little more oxygen, which will help.” Damn. Might not be waiting until tomorrow to send them to the Elias Sophia hospital, if they both continued to struggle like this. Andros turned to Laurel, but, before he had to say another word, she obviously got his unspoken message, since she quickly turned to Tom.

“I’m going now, so you two can rest and get better. Real quick, though, is there anything important I need to know about the cave dig that the volunteer crew can’t tell me?”

“Just that we found some human bones. Exciting. Planned…” His chest heaved a few times before he continued. “Planned to share at the next meeting. I think they’re older than the artifacts at the mountain site. Probably… Minoan, but… don’t know… for sure yet.”

“Okay. I’ll talk to the crew and have them bring me up to speed. Don’t worry about a thing.” She patted his shoulder, and Andros stepped behind her to wrap his hands around her lower arms. She looked over her shoulder in surprise, but he couldn’t risk her touching her eyes or pulling down her mask before she’d thoroughly washed her hands.

Her soft hair and enticing scent tickled his nose as he leaned forward to whisper in her ear. “I want you to wash your hands before you touch anything, especially any part of your body. Okay?”

She stared at him, then nodded slowly, saying a quick goodbye to both patients. Still holding on to the delicate wrist of her unbandaged hand, he led her across the room to the sink, squirted soap and stuck her hand under the faucet to wash it.

“I know how to wash my hands, you know.”

“Except you’re a bit handicapped right now. Can’t wash the way you normally would, with one hand bandaged.” As his fingers moved around and between hers, it struck him what an interesting contrast her hand was, like the woman herself. Slender, delicate, feminine fingers that were also hardworking and strong. “I want to make sure it’s clean. The skin exposed on your other hand too, before I change the bandage.”

“Change it? You just put it on.”

“‘Know Thyself’ is one of the famous inscriptions at the temple.” He kept washing, slowly now, enjoying too much the sensual feel of their hands soapily sliding together as he looked up at her, noticing the interesting flecks of green and gold in her questioning blue eyes. “My yiayia used to call me Kyrie Prosektikos, which means Mr. Careful. I believe in thinking things through and being appropriately cautious.” Which had been true except for one notable aspect of his life he was determined to change. “So, yeah, I’m going to put on a new bandage.”

“I’d say three bandages in an hour is careful, all right. If that doesn’t sterilize it, nothing will.”

He liked her smile. That she didn’t roll her eyes or argue with him told him she trusted him, at least a little, to know what he was doing. “Glad to see you aren’t doubting my doctoring skills anymore. Some of the tourists who come to this clinic never are convinced I know what I’m doing.”

“What makes you think I’m convinced? Maybe I can just see you’re hard-headed and bossy, and I don’t have time to argue with you.”

“Smart woman. You’re right that I’d damned well get tough with you if I had to.”

“Just remember I can get tough too. If I have to.”

“Somehow, I don’t doubt that for a second.”

They stood there looking at one another, small smiles on their faces, before Andros realized he was just holding her hand in his, now, fingers entwined. He managed to refocus his attention on the job at hand instead of her captivating face and eyes, and very kissable lips.

Dried off and newly bandaged, Laurel paused as she was about to head out of the clinic door. “I’m worried, Andros.”

He realized he liked the sound of his name on her tongue a lot better than the formal Dr. Drakoulias. When she looked up at him, her face filled with concern, he wished he could tell her she didn’t need to be. But he was worried as well. “I know. I’m doing everything I can and will let you know how they are tomorrow. I’m planning to spend the night here to keep an eye on them. You have a cell-phone number I can call?”

“Reception is sketchy at the dig, but if you leave a message, I’ll be able to get it when I’m back at the hotel.” She scribbled her number on a piece of paper and pressed it into his palm, lingering there. “Promise to call me?”

“I promise.” He folded his fingers over hers, squeezing gently to reassure her. It took effort to release her soft hand, to let her go. He stood there, motionless, to watch her walk to her car. Watch the gentle sway of her hips, the way her dress swung sensuously with each step of her drop-dead gorgeous legs. Watch the way her long silky ponytail caressed her back, until she’d gotten in her car and driven away.

He tucked the paper into his pocket and had a feeling he’d be tempted to call just to talk to her more about the dig. Just to hear her voice.

Which was foolish. The Wagners had told him the dig would be permanently over in just a few weeks and they’d be gone. She’d be gone.

Why did it have to be Laurel who was the first woman he’d felt this kind of interest in since he’d come home? The kind of interest that had his mind and body all stirred up. The kind of interest that made him want to take her to dinner, to wrap his arms around her, to touch her and kiss her and see where it led.

He squeezed the back of his suddenly tight neck and sighed. He had every intention of living the life of a model citizen—and a good father—putting behind him the wild reputation of his youth. Last thing he needed was attraction to a woman who would be leaving soon, tempting him to enjoy a quickie affair that would grease the town gossip machine all over again. Gossip he didn’t want his daughter to have to hear about her dad.