He slipped his arm around her. Eleven years, and in a way, this was like it was all happening over again.
"I never shirk from a challenge."
"I'll drink to that." Her voice indicated the challenge would not be overly daunting. "Do we have any—?"
"There's still that bottle of ouzo in the car."
She stopped dead still, her hair plastered against her upturned face, and ran her hands down her body. "Minoan, that's what Zeno said. What if it's true?" She turned back. "What if I have the same hot blood as the queen who vamped a bull? Imagine what that would be like."
"As best I remember, you could probably handle it."
She performed another Russian gypsy whirl in the glistening street. "I want to be Minoan, Michael. I want to soar through time and space. Leap over bulls, maybe even . . ." She twirled again, drunkenly.
"Then why not do it? The queen's bedroom." He stopped and stared at the Galaxy Hotel, ultramodern and garish, now towering upward in the rain. The pool was closed, but the disco still blared. "The hell with everything. I'm taking you back there. Tonight."
Parked next to the lobby entrance was their rented Saab. He paused and looked in at the half bottle of ouzo lying on the seat, then reached and pulled her into his arms. "Come on. And get ready."
"Is that a promise?" She curled around and met his lips.