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“Yes.” Adonis looked across the turtle. “What do you think, Papa?”
Stavros approached them, careful to leave the sand sculpture undisturbed.
Rose swore the temperature increased ten degrees by the time he reached her side.
He knelt by Adonis and studied the turtle’s head. “Very good work.” He patted the boy on the back. “He’ll be a fine swimmer, just like you.”
With a smile, Adonis leaned into Stavros’s side.
Rose thought they looked perfect together and wondered yet again why Stavros wasn’t Adonis’s papa. The man and boy were so familiar, so comfortable around each other. They even possessed similar features. Rose mused the likeness was due to genetics.
“I’m finished!” Nefeli spread her arms wide and looked expectantly at them.
Rose walked around the turtle to admire Nefeli’s handiwork. “Splendid, Nefeli. The design is beautiful, and your lines are so clean.”
Nefeli’s smile widened under Rose’s praise.
“He’ll be the envy of the ocean.” Stavros gave her a one-armed hug, and her smile grew, filling her face all the way up to her eyes.
Rose noticed that Stavros and Nefeli had the same nose, and chalked it up to family ties again. “What should we name him?” Rose asked the children.
“Chelóna,” said Adonis.
“Chelóna?” Rose let the word roll around in her mouth.
“It means turtle,” Stavros supplied with a smile.
“How do we know he isn’t a she?” Nefeli asked. “I want to name herómorfo korítsi.”
Rose looked blankly at Stavros.
He smirked at her. “That translates to beautiful girl.”
“He’s a boy turtle,” Adonis said.
Nefeli put her hands on her hips. “She’s a girl.”
Rose sensed a storm brewing between the children, each wanting their name for the turtle to be chosen.
Stavros seemed to read the signs as well and suggested, “How aboutómorfo chelóna?”
The children looked doubtfully at him.
“The only way to know for sure is to flip the turtle upside-down and check its belly.” Rose bent down as if to grab the underside of the shell and turn the sculpture over.
“No!” Adonis ran to her and tugged on one arm.
“All our hard work!” Nefeli grabbed Rose’s other arm.
The three of them tumbled back into the sand.
“Omorfo chelónait is then.” Stavros extended his hand to help Rose up.
She took his hand, all her senses flaring to life. Her foot slipped as she rose, and she landed, palms first, onto his chest. His shirtless chest. Oh my. The bare touch of his skin under her fingertips had her neurons firing on overdrive. Many years had passed since she’d been held, even in mishap, by a man. And this wasn’t any man. Stavros was an inch shy of Greek-god status. He wasn’t in body-builder shape, but his muscles had definition, carved from years of disciplined exercise.
He gripped her by the elbows and helped her secure her footing. “Are you alright?” he asked in a low, husky voice.
“Yes, you broke my fall nicely.” She tried for a bit of light humor to distract Stavros from reading the emotions she felt sure were displayed on her face. Rose dared to raise her eyes to meet his. Mistake. She was prepared to see many things in those deep brown orbs: amusement, irritation, indifference, even rejection. But compassion laced with desire left her gulping and breathless.