Chapter 11
Summer fled Catherine like an elusive lover, like Dimi jetting off to Athens after the US Open for the Davis Cup semifinals between Russia and Greece. She tried to hold on to it, to him—or at least the memory of him in brilliant sunlight, light winds, and soft nights. Even now she recalled the intoxicating spice of his scent; the way his spiky black hair glistened as if kissed by dewdrops when he arrived freshly showered in crisp blue and white at the Palace’s presidential suite after a match; her joy at the sight of him or anxiety when he was delayed, caught up in interviews, autographs, and a massage to ease the searing pain that seemed to burn every sinew. How she longed to knead his tawny muscles herself, working her way with the most delicious anticipation to the seat of g
