My Greek SEAL by Sabrina Devonshire Page A

won’t get me to talk.”
    “My words were not meant to be an insult, Maya. I’m simply making an observation, one that seems related what you yourself said before about people not having compassion or being civil. How can anyone feel compassion for people they don’t understand?”
    I’m more irritated than ever that his conclusions seem so astute. If only I could spew out some snappy retort.
    “I realize my bias toward Americans largely comes from what I hear in the media. Before you came here, you must have read articles and news bulletins, and come to some conclusions about the Greek people,” said Eros.
    I don’t mention all the reports I read written by financial advisors that described the Greeks as irresponsible, lazy, and corrupt. As if every one of them were the same. Or the travel advisories warning that trains, planes and buses would likely be on strike, and that streets might be overflowing with rioters. It would be embarrassing given that every Greek person I’ve met, other than Eros, has been completely charming and that I’ve had no transit problems or witnessed a single protest. It was all a bunch of media hype if you ask me. “I have noticed a certain Greek man asks way too many questions.”
    Eros leans back in his chair and laughs, stretching his T-shirt tightly over his muscular chest. His laugh is full-bodied and masculine and the expression on his face is so relaxed and unrestrained.
    I wish I felt comfortable unleashing my emotions. It could be so cleansing. Instead, I battle with all my might to keep them inside.
    When his burst of laughter subsides, he crosses his arms in front of his chest and looks at me. “Ah, yes. I have asked many questions. You see I like to get to know people. I like to understand them. You’ll find many of my people are like this. Men and women alike. We like to get to know the travelers. Where they’re from. What brings them to Greece. Knowing people is a good thing here. We don’t need to preserve our own space or worry that hearing about someone’s problems will make us feel depressed.”
    When he blinks, I notice his eyelashes are long and curly. Every feature from his wavy unruly dark hair, thick brows and deeply emotional eyes give his face a character I want to like. “It’s dangerous,” I say too loud. I’m terrified of this magnetic attraction I feel toward Eros, of my emotions, which are rising to the surface and threatening to give my vulnerability away.
    His brows raise and his eyes widen. “What’s dangerous?”
    An image of Nora pops into my head. She acted like she wanted to be my friend and then later used what she learned about my personality to drive the knife in deep. She learned I was a concrete thinker and often didn’t get obscure jokes. She knew my sales presentations were more professional than entertaining. I sold to people because I got them to trust me and showed the benefits the advertising could do for their business, not because I made them laugh. But she said my serious demeanor didn’t fit for a high-profile sales person. That she had a friend who had the potential to make my boss even richer who would work for less than what I was being paid. And my greedy boss fell for that one, hook, line and sinker. “Getting to know people. That’s not always so fun. Once they know your weaknesses, they stab you in the back.”
    “Ah, so you recently broke up with a boyfriend?” He raises one eyebrow and rests a sculpted cheek on a palm, gazing at me with a pensive, wide-eyed expression that makes my blood simmer.
    “No. I got fired. And I didn’t do a damn thing to deserve it. I worked really hard. And my sales numbers were great. This awful woman who was our receptionist told my boss all these lies. I... I said I don’t want to talk about it.”
    Maryann places a hand on my shoulder and pats it gently. “Codswallop. I’m thinking you need to talk. Don’t worry, dear. We’re not all dodgy like those work folks who did you