I stood outside on the street with my bags feeling a little like a homeless person. I'd just had one of the most unsuccessful conversations of my life trying to arrange a taxi. And after what felt like a tragic game of Pictionary combined with charades, during which I'd been reduced to making loud 'vrooming' noises and miming a steering wheel, I called it a day.

I surveyed my surroundings and sneezed. Had it been daytime when I'd arrived, I may have noticed the subtle clues that indicated that this was the absolute wrong place to stay. Two flowerpots flanked the door, both containing the brown, dead remnants of the flora that had once occupied them. One of them also looked like it was frequented rather often by the local cat and also used to dispose of beer cans..,I sneezed again. Why were there so many cats here?

Luxury Aegean Villa's. Luxury. The only luxury here was that I'd left with my life intact.

I took stock of my situation. Now what?

"If you ever need anything, here's my card."

His chiseled face pushed it's way into my brain once more and I could almost hear his business card whispering to me,

"Call me, call me now and then have sex with me."

Urg. The last thing I wanted to do was phone Zoolandimitri, yes, I'd thought of that rather terrible nickname whilst teetering on the brink of sleep last night somewhere between the time he'd kissed me on the neck and whipped my bra off. OK, fine, I'd had another sex dream.

"Call me. Sex. Phone sex. Let's have it....Now."

His card whispered a little louder. I huffed a very audible resigned sigh as I started to reluctantly fish the thing out of my bag.

I took a moment to study the card. The arrogant thing! The back of the card was perfectly normal; name, address, basic info. But the front of the card...

Was it really necessary to have his face plastered across the front of the card? And with that big, cheesy self-satisfied grin? It was the grin of an estate agent trying to sell you four-bedroomed happiness, except he was trying to sell you sex in all four bedrooms and then bent over the balcony rail too...possibly the shower, perhaps even up against the freshly painted walls and the ....

My mind began to conjure up images of him showing me around the granite topped Jamie Oliver kitchen and then fucking me al fresco.

Stop it! God, I had to snap out of this.

I dialed Zoomitri's number (That nickname works a little better?) I really didn't want to see him right now, or ever, especially after the bluntly horrified way he'd looked at me and rushed off last night. (Was there some weird mythology-slash-superstition about different-coloured eyes here? Remind me to Google that.)

"Dimitri Spiros." His voice sounded husky and terribly dreamy.

"Hi... it's a..."

"Jane. I was just thinking about you."

"You were?" I forced down the bubble that had risen up from my stomach. Fucking hell, I hated myself for having this illogical reaction to him, especially because I didn't like him.

"No. I don't like him." A loud voice shouted inside my brain.

"Oh yes you do!" Another part of my body replied seductively.

"You're wrong!" The voice in my logical brain screeched back defensively.

"Well I wouldn't be feeling all tingly if you didn't." It cooed.

Dimitri spoke again which pulled me back to reality. "Yes, I woke up thinking that I'm sure you were meant to be booked into the Aegean sea Villas and it was some kind of mistake."

"Mmmm, I think you're right, only I'm not so sure it was a mistake. I've actually checked out and made a reservation at the sea villas and – "

"I'll be there now to fetch you." And with that, he put down the phone. He was coming to fetch me. I felt almost hysterical with panic and my pulse started pounding like a techno-beat.

"See... you're totally in lust with him." The voice mocked me one more time before I managed to muffle it.

It was warming up and the sun was almost straight above me. I put my sunglasses on and pulled out my sun cream. Factor 100+. I'd searched long and hard for it, in fact, my search for the perfect sun cream was an ongoing one. I'm always on the look out for a cream that doesn't sweat off or doesn't smell like a pineapple and a coconut had a love child. And this cream could survive the nuclear destruction of the planet. All that would be left once the dust cloud had settled would be this cream, and the cockroaches.

I put my bags down and started smearing the stuff across my face, arms and the parts of the back of my neck that I could reach. I bent over to attack the last part, my lower legs and ankles. And then to my great alarm, a shadow slowly fell over my foot.

I froze.

I didn't need to turn around to see who it was.

My stomach knotted and the familiar nervous nauseous feeling rose. Even his shadow was perfectly proportioned and chiseled and... how was it humanly possible that even his shadow was good-looking?

Still bent over with my posterior pointing in his direction, which was completely humiliating, I turned slowly and came face-to-face with his non-sandaled foot. He was wearing closed canvas type shoes today. I followed the feet up to meet long, strong legs that were attached to them. My gaze moved further up to his knees and the shorts that were ever so coolly hanging around them and then a little further up, a bit more, slightly, slightly until... Shit! I was face-to-crotch with him.

I quickly shot up hoping that he hadn't noticed the accidental crotch examination.

"Hi." He said. He was smiling at me in that unnerving way.

"Hi." I said faintly. I felt like I needed to say something. Some interesting facts about horses or marsupials or Tibetan singing bowls or...

"You know, the length of a shadow is constantly changing as the earth rotates on its axis."

"Really?" he sounded amused again. "I took your advice by the way." He said with a small smile, running his foot through the dirt.

"I.. I see that." I was really puzzled by this. Had he really changed his shoe wear because I'd suggested it? And he had actually listened to my ramblings, no one else ever did- except my friends.

"Shall we?" he grabbed my bags with one hand and tossed them into the trunk as if they were full of feathers. He'd probably had a lot of practice tossing things around so expertly, like women onto beds for example.

I walked over to the door and was just about to open it when his hand shot out in front of me and beat me to the punch. He opens car doors too I see. He really was trying to work this gentleman act.

I climbed into the car and tried to make myself comfortable in the seat. It was hard though. Everything about this guy made you as uncomfortable as if you'd swallowed a cactus. In fact, since meeting him I felt like I had been ripped out of my comfort zone like a baby being pulled into the world kicking and screaming. Hey, good analogy there Jane. Because, like a baby, I lacked any kind of tools to deal with these feelings I was currently feeling towards this man. Man God. He stuck both lust and total fear into my heart.

When I was around him I felt my usual control slipping. I could always rely on my control, but lately it had been letting me down. The mere fact I was in Greece was a sign that it was failing miserably.

Zoomitri climbed into the car and I made sure to avert my gaze as quickly as possible. We drove slowly through the streets.

The streets were lined with more pot plants that I'd ever seen in my life. Brimming over and spilling out were bright pinky-purple Bougainvillea, the color so bright you couldn't quite believe it existed in nature. It looked more like the color you might find in a toddlers box of crayons.

Pots of cactus and other prickly things that looked like they would hurt if you bumped into them were also in abundance.

For the first time I noticed the brightly colored houses peering at me from behind all the white washed ones. A bright orange one, a pale pink one and a few terracotta homes decorated with bright blue mosaics stood out against all the snowy whiteness.

I was so deep in thought that I hardly noticed the sound until Dimitri embarrassingly pointed it out.

"Hungry?" he asked.

"What?" I was genuinely confused until I heard the loud gurgling sound emanating from my stomach, followed by the painful, acidy feeling that was now creeping up my oesophagus. Yes, I was hungry. No, starved. I hadn't eaten in more than twenty-four hours, something my mother would probably congratulate me on.

Great! Nothing like embarrassing bodily sounds next to a total and hot stranger.

"I guess... I am..."

"I wouldn't have eaten there either. Did you survive the night?"

"Barely." I admitted.

"I'm so sorry, I should have known it was a mistake and never left you there - "

"Please, don't worry. It wasn't your fault. "

He turned and smiled at me again. His smile was somehow different this time. It didn't have that crazy-sexy quality to it. In fact, this time it seemed friendly? And strangely, this smile threw me even more than the have-sex-with-me-now ones. Those were predictable and expected, this was not.

Dimitri stopped the car and jumped out, and I suddenly paid attention to my surroundings again. There was no hotel in sight, rather there was a narrow street packed with shops and throngs of mesmerized looking tourists.

"Where's the hotel?"

"I'm taking you somewhere first." He flashed me another worrying grin before walking up the street. It was comical. Heads turned, mouths gaped and several women looked like they were about to strip their clothes off and throw themselves into his path and onto his penis. A few girls even walked up to him and asked for and autograph and a pic. Clearly he was some kind of local celeb.

I wondered what would happen if he walked around wearing a sign that said, "Free Sex." How many women would take him up on his offer?

I followed Man-God as he parted the people on the street like Mosses did the red sea. It felt like I walked past a hundred souvenir shops in the space of a few meters. They were selling everything from bags, to hats, hand painted ceramic plates showing Greek scenes, postcards and little statuettes of the Oia windmill.

I've never really understood souvenirs. They seem like the completely wrong thing to give to someone after you've come back from a holiday;

"Here, have a glittery statuette of a dolphin jumping in the waves to remind you that it was I who was away sunbathing in the tropics while you were at home, working, in winter."

There was something vaguely passive –aggressive about them that I didn't much like. Mmmm, perhaps my mother would like that little ceramic bowl?

Dimitri was weaving through the crowd now so stealthily, that I had to race to catch up to him. "Hey. Where we going?"

"It's a surprise."

"I hate surprises!" Which was true. Ever since the time my mother had invited me over to our family's usual Wednesday night dinner, only for me to discover a young, upwardly mobile, lawyer sitting across from me.

The dinner had gone horrifically. In-between my mother's hideously obvious attempts to get Peter, upwardly mobile man in question, and I talking, he'd stared at my twin sisters all night. My mother had been about as subtle as Kim Kardashian's shinny bum . It would have been preferable if she'd just come out and told him she was already buying booties for our first-born.

"So you know Jane graduated cum laude."

Peter leans forward and flashes them both a smile.

"So you know Jane's just bought herself a darling little apartment in Rosebank, with laminate flooring." *she winks at me.

Peter leans back and puffs his chest out in a manly display.

"So you know Jane is a very sought after dentist."

Peter bites his bottom lip with lust filled eyes. Peter is officially a pervert.

This was confirmed right after dinner when he'd asked them both out on a date. Both of them!

"You're going to like this surprise." Dimitri snapped me back to reality, as did the tourist I bumped with my shoulder as I jostled through the ever narrowing street.

"Highly doubtful." I whispered under my breath.

After what felt like another ten minutes of arm wrestling my way through the crowd, ducking under canopies of Bougainvillea, Dimitri stopped. (I had nearly knocked over about three of those postcard displays and dodged at least five cats – sneezing all the way) But when he turned around and looked so pleased with himself, none of that mattered. He looked like he'd found a lost treasure. "We're here." He waved his hand and indicated a small restaurant that was tucked away between the shops. I looked up at the sign.

"Dimitri's Café?" I looked from the sign to Dimitri. "What... so you're a tour guide and you run a restaurant?" (I still wasn't going to let on that I knew he was a model for fear his ego might grow so large it would engulf the entire island and possibly the mainland too.)

"I told you everyone in Greece is named Dimitri."

I seriously hoped that wasn't the case.

"Chicken or beef or pork?" he asked.

"What?"

He pointed at something and my eyes followed. Mmmm, I wasn't so sure about this. Giant slabs of meat on large poles spun around while a man cut chunks off them with what looked like a pirate's knife.

Then my eye caught the bowls of Hummus. There was enough of the stuff to use as cement and build a bloody mansion –it does have a similar texture and I'm sure when it dries would be just as effective at holding bricks together in perpetuity. French fries bubbling away in oil to my left, large carby pita's to my right, feta, fried Halloumi and little brown meat-ball looking things everywhere...

Illegal foods. All of them. My mother had suggested a strict diet at fourteen when she realized I was the kind of person who could convert lettuce into fat cells at a disturbing rate. Her greatest fear was that my reprobate fat cells might go ballistic and take over.

"Sorry, but I don't eat that kind of thing." I tried to sound polite, I didn't want to offend him, he looked so happy.

"But have you ever tried a Gyros, and on the streets of Fira?" he sounded so enthusiastic I almost felt bad.

"No."

"Then how do you know you don't eat it?"

"Well, firstly I don't eat fried foods or carbohydrates, I try and avoid gluten too and secondly, I don't eat Greek food."

"You don't eat Greek food?" his brow furrowed in what can only be described as total confusion.

I nodded.

"Are you sure?"

"Positive. "

"But you're in Greece?"

"Like I said, I'm not really here to sample the local delicacies and take in the sights and smells. I'm here to find someone."

"Dimitri?" It sounded like a very loaded question.

"Yes."

"How do you know that this isn't the Dimitris you're looking for?" He indicated the sign above his head.

"Because the Dimitris I'm looking for doesn't run a restaurant!" At least I didn't think he did. But a lot could have changed in twenty-five years.

"What does he do?"

I really didn't want to have this conversation with him. This had nothing to do with him at all. Who the hell did he think he was asking me these kinds of personal questions anyway? Not even someone as good looking as him could get away with this.

I walked over to the counter in a deliberate attempt to kill the conversation, get back into the car, onto the road, into my hotel and as far away from this Dimitris as I could.

"Please can I have some lettuce and tomato in one of those. And two Coke Lights." I hadn't drunk a Coke Light in days and I could feel it. (I think they put something addictive into Coke Lights)

The man behind the counter looked at me. Blank face.

"No meat?" he asked.

"No meat!"

"No hummous?"

"No hummous!"

"Tziki?"

"No."

"Tara?"

"Negative."

The man said something to Dimitri in Greek, it wasn't hard to figure out what he was saying from his tone. I took my salad filled pita and watched as another pita was being stuffed full of pork and grease. What followed was another embarrassing moment in which I'd forgotten I still had no local currency and Dimitri had been forced to pay.

"Thanks for lunch. I'll pay you back when I have some Euro." I said, when we finally reached the car again.

"Please. Don't worry. It was my pleasure. But I would hardly call that lunch. I wished you'd tried more."

"Trust me. I can't afford to run around trying foods! You have no clue what will happen to my thig ... never mind." I went back to picking at the lettuce and tomato inside the pita.

It wasn't long before we were parked outside my new hotel and standing outside with my bag once more. My heart started thumping wildly at the possibility of him leaning in to kiss me on the cheek again. I put my free hand behind my back in case it did something awful, like reach out and pull his clothes off.

"Can I help you with your bag?"

It seemed a rather redundant question considering two porters dressed in black suits were already rushing to my side. So much more civilized than the previous establishment.

"No thanks. I think it's being taken care of."

"Oh. Of course." He almost looked disappointed? "Well, like I said if you need anything...anything. " he took another card out of his pocket and started handing it over to me.

"I've got one."

"Take another... just in case."

"In case what?"

"In case you change your mind and decide to try some real Greek food." He flashed me another smile.

"Eat hummous with me and then have sex. Sex. After dinner. Sex. Now."

My heart stopped pumping instantly. Suddenly, he stepped towards me and pulled my hand from behind my back and placed his card in the center of my palm. My nerve endings prickled and the hair on the back of my neck stood up.

"Just in case." He repeated the words and they sounded so loaded.

In case what?

In case I decide to lose all common sense, judgment, control, my mind (although that was already up for debate) and call you for a midnight beach romp. I'll be sure to bring my watch so I can take note of how long it takes you to make me start screaming your name. Oh God, that sounded good!

I took a large step back. He took a large step forward. Back. Forward. Then he leaned in again. Holy Crap! He was coming in for that double-cheek kiss again, I was sure of it and I wasn't sure if I could remain cool and calm and controlled while he did it.

Only he didn't. He did something far, far more odd and unsettling. He pulled my sunglasses off, placed them in the same hand as the card and then closed my fingers around them. He squeezed my hand closed while his eyes locked with mine...

My mouth dried. My head started to spin and I felt a tad unsteady on the ground and hoped to hell that I wasn't going to be knocked off my feet by my raging hormones and pushed into his arms.

He gave my hand one last squeeze, and then... he was gone!

WTF?! What the hell did that mean? You can't just take off a person's glasses, put them in their hands, stare into their eyes and walk away without saying a word.

He can't just go around pulling mysterious moves and then disappearing all silent and broody seeming like he's got some sort of secret or hidden agenda, which in turn just makes him even hotter and unattainable and more desirable than he already was a few minutes ago.

What the hell was he playing at? And why the hell was it so hard to keep myself from falling for it? This was so not like me. At all.