A Stranger’s Touch by Lacey Savage Read Free Book Online Page A

be Kastor.”
    He nodded but made no move to extend a hand. “I am here to take you out. We go now.”
    Startled by the bold command, Roxi glanced over her shoulder. “My roommates—”
    “Will be fine without you, just this once.” Leann winked from the kitchen doorway and made a shooing motion with her hands. “Go. Have a good time.”
    “But—”
    “It is settled then.” The creases at the corners of Kastor’s eyes tightened. “Come.”
    She sighed and reached for the coat she’d draped on a hook by the door then gathered her purse. “Sure,” she murmured. “Why not?”
    * * * * *
     
    It didn’t take Roxi long to realize this had been a very, very bad idea.
    Kastor took her to a Greek restaurant called Athena, a dark, cave-like place with paintings of Mykonos on the walls and Byzantine music playing at low volume. Everyone seemed to know Kastor, but not in a friendly, neighborhood-bar kind of way. Rather, the waitresses kept their eyes down when they talked to him and the hostess shooed a couple of existing customers to give Kastor his “usual” table.
    They’d arrived there on his motorcycle, and Roxi still hadn’t recovered from the bone-chilling cold that had numbed her extremities as Kastor weaved among yellow taxicabs like a speed demon. She hugged her arms around herself while he ordered for her, not surprised he hadn’t bothered to ask what she wanted.
    “Your mother tells mine you’re unable to find a husband,” Kastor said in fluent Greek.
    Roxi bristled. “My mother needs to learn to stay out of my business.”
    He picked up his wineglass and swirled the red contents. “But then, you wouldn’t have met me. That would have been a shame.”
    She fought the urge to roll her eyes. “Indeed. What brought you to New York, Kastor?”
    He ran a hand over his shorn head. “I’m a businessman.”
    “Yeah? What kind of business?”
    “Exports.”
    Well, that was vague enough to cover everything from clothes to cocaine. “You own your own business?”
    He dismissed the question with a wave of his hand. “It’s not important. I understand you work at an art gallery.” Her frowned again, disapproval clear on his hard features.
    And he didn’t even know half the story. “I do.” She picked up her wineglass and toyed with the stem, not wanting to go into detail about what she did for a living. Kastor wouldn’t understand, and God forbid word of her job got back to her mother. Gryta would probably be on the next plane to New York, ready to haul Roxi back home tied up and stuffed in the luggage compartment if necessary.
    Kastor peered at her across the table. His frown deepened and grooves formed over the bridge of his nose. “You should take your hair down. It makes your face look too round when you tie it up like that.”
    She touched the back of her head, where she’d pinned her long locks in place this morning. She started slipping out one of the pins before she caught herself and straightened her spine. “I like it this way. Less maintenance, and it didn’t fly every which way when we were on your motorcycle.”
    He scowled, apparently not used to being disobeyed. “You don’t need to be so plain, Roxana. A new hairstyle, an exercise regime, and you could be worthy of being on my arm.”
    The shock careening through her system jerked her to her feet just as the waitress came around the corner carrying a tray with two plates balanced precariously. One of the plates held a souvlaki dinner that could feed a family of four, while the other was about half the size and consisted of a pile of leaves with a sliced tomato on top. She could guess which was hers.
    She turned around and stormed to the exit without another word or a glance back. Kastor followed. She knew he would.
    Outside, winter submerged the city in a gray fog. The cold slapped Roxi’s cheeks and she burrowed into the collar of her coat as she took off at a light jog down West 44th Street. Tall buildings stretched up far