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and looked around the restaurant, wondering if the woman he’d seen on the dock the day before was working here now.
    â€œAre you ready to order?” Tyler asked.
    Angie ordered a light lunch of dolmades—grape leaves stuffed with rice and lamb—and a salad of feta and kalamata olives. She couldn’t pass up baklava for dessert. Stan ordered chicken gyros. Tyler lifted an eyebrow, obviously remembering his same order the day before.
    Their lunch was almost ended when Stan looked up and saw a brown-haired woman. Her back was to him, and she was wiping down a recently vacated table to ready it for the next patron.Her hair formed a thick braid down her back, and it seemed to be the same shade as the woman’s on the wharf. Was she the one he’d been waiting for?
    He put down his sandwich and stared, his heart doing handsprings.
    She’d just about finished when, whether out of curiosity or because she felt his gaze on her, she peered over her shoulder.
    It was her. He smiled.
    Her returning smile brightened her face, just as it had the day before. He didn’t know when he’d ever seen anyone more radiant. She was breathtaking, with sparkling eyes and full lips spread wide.
    He was vaguely aware that Angie’s head swiveled in the waitress’s direction even as she continued chatting to him about possibly writing up some restaurant reviews, but he didn’t care.
    This time, he promised himself, this time I’m going to talk to her. Determination filled him, and he felt ready to burst with anticipation.
    Then she turned around.
    The smile dropped from his face when he saw her body. Only because her shoulders, arms, and even legs were thin had he not noticed from behind, or out on the wharf when she was covered with that tentlike parka: she was pregnant.
    Considering how slender she was, and how round her belly was, she was not only pregnant, but very pregnant. Like…ready-to-give-birth-any-moment kind of pregnant.
    She wore no ring on her left hand, but then, she might not wear one considering the kind of work she was doing.
    A frown touched her brow at his shocked reaction, and at the same time, her gaze jumped to Angie, who was still talking. The diamond engagement ring on Angie’s finger sparkled.
    Just then, a Mediterranean-looking fellow in his late thirties or early forties, medium height and build, with curly black hair, hazel eyes, and olive skin, stepped out of the kitchen. He wore an apron that reached from his waist to his knees, and was wiping his hands on a blue-striped rag. His dark scowl met that of the waitress. She saw him, and hurried to finish wiping off the table.
    One last time, the waitress glanced at Stan, questioning and troubled, before she scooped up the tray of dirty dishes and hustled back into the kitchen. The fierce-looking man in the doorway placed a hand against her back as if to hurry her along, his eyes making a penetrating sweep over the dining room before he followed.
    Stan realized she must have thought he was engaged to Angie, yet eyed and smiled at other women. But then, she was pregnant, so where was the man in her life? Was it the waiter she’d argued with? Or maybe the cook who had touched her so possessively? Or someone else? If so, why had she smiled that way at him ? She had some kind of nerve, to look disdainfully at him considering her circumstance! What was wrong with the woman?
    And what was wrong with him that he felt so disappointed, as if all the sunshine had gone out of his life?
    â€œStan?” Angie called. “Stan, are you listening? I try to think about other things, but my mind keeps reverting to the engagement party! I just don’t know what to do anymore.”
    â€œLet’s go, Angie,” he said, so flummoxed he forgot that she was the one who promised to take him to lunch, and he threw money on the table. “You need to get home so you can concentrate better.”
    â€œMaybe you’re