“Oh, Vasili, it's incredible.”

“Isn't it?” He smiled. “It always reminds me of Greece.”

“Do you come here often?”

He shook his head slowly, his black eyes burning into hers. “No, Serena, I don't. But I wanted to come here with you.” She nodded, and then turned away, not sure of what to say. She didn't want to play games with him. But he was so open and so appealing, and he had a magnetic quality about him that drew her to him. They walked on the beach for a while, and then sat down to watch the sunset, and they sat that way for what seemed like hours, in the growing dusk, his arm around her shoulders, each of them listening to his own dream. At last he stood up slowly and pulled her to her feet, she had her sandals shoved into her pockets, her hair was loose and blowing softly in the wind, and he touched her face with his hand, and then very gently he leaned toward her and kissed her, before walking slowly down the beach with her, and then back to the pier. They said little on the ferry ride home, and she was astonished to realize that in the last few minutes of it she fell asleep with her head on his shoulder. But he was that kind of man. He teased her about it once they were back in the Bentley, and they laughed and joked on the rest of the ride home. An hour after they had stepped off the boat from Fire Island she was in front of her door on East Sixty-third Street, and it was difficult to explain what had happened in the past eight hours. It was just after ten o'clock, and she felt as though she were returning from a magical journey with this extraordinary black-eyed man.

“See you tomorrow, Serena.” He said it very gently, and did not try to kiss her again. She nodded, with a smile, and waved as she unlocked the outside door and disappeared into the building, and as though in a dream she drifted up the stairs.





38

“You should be very pleased.” Her voice was gentle, and his face was very near to hers.