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'What about?' she queried, shooting him a bitter glance. 'We said it all on our wedding night, I would have thought.'
'Not about us; that's not important,' he dismissed lazily, almost insolently. 'About the weekend. I do not want my mother or aunt or any other guests that may arrive upset in any way.' His hand reached out along the back of the sofa and tangled in Saffron's hair, turning her head towards him. 'In other words, Saffron, my sweet, I expect—no, demand that you keep control of that fiery temper of yours, and try to think before you open that delectable mouth in front of anyone else.'
His hand at her neck was sending shivers down her spine, and she stiffened involuntarily. 'I do not have a bad temper,' she flared.
He laughed and took her glass and put it down, then drew her into his arms. 'Whatever. Any uncontrolled outburst and this is how I will deal with it.'
His mouth covered hers, and he began an assault on her senses that left her meekly agreeing to his demands as he carried her up to bed.
Saffron squirmed restlessly on the towel and turned over on to her back. Even thinking about it now still had the power to make her blood run hotter in her veins. Last night Alex had made love to her with a slow, aching tenderness that had left her sensually replete but with a pain in her heart that had brought tears to her eyes. They had curled up to sleep in each other's arms like two halves of a whole, and oddly enough this morning Alex had delayed his departure for Athens until nine-thirty, long enough to bring her a cup of tea in bed and share breakfast with her.
Saffron did not understand the man at all. The villain she thought him to be did not equate with the Alex of this morning. He was a complete enigma to her, and she had a growing, disturbing conviction that she would never be free of the sexual hunger, her unrestrained longing for him.
It made no sense. For twenty-five years she had managed to retain a cool outward control over her temper and her body, but in no time at all Alex had turned her into a wild, sexy woman with a lightning-quick temper. It was almost unbelievable. Except that she loved him, a little voice inside her whispered, reminding her of what she was trying so hard to forget. She loved him. . .
The sound of a helicopter broke the silence, and she jumped to her feet, swiftly gathering up her things. She picked up her watch and slipped it on her wrist. Only four! She looked up and watched as the machine disappeared behind the house. Could it possibly be Aloe back so early. . .? What was he playing at?
She walked across the sand to where the gate opened on to the first terrace and began the long climb back up to the house.
Alex met her on the lawn. 'I thought I'd join you for a swim; the heat in Athens is unbearable.'
He was stripped down to black swimming-trunks, a towel swung carelessly over one broad shoulder, his hard- muscled body gleaming golden in the sunlight, his eyes hidden from her by dark sunglasses.
'I've had a swim,' she said; she could not read his expression and it made her nervous.
'So indulge me, hmm?' And, catching her hand in his, he swept her around. 'I fed the need of some R and R, and preferably with you.' And once more Saffron descended to the beach with a heart that for some inexplicable reason suddenly felt much lighter.
They swam and frolicked in the clear blue water, and to Saffron's secret delight Alex made no effort to swim off for miles on his own as he usually did; instead t
hey played a ridiculous game of tag and dunk, their mingled laughter and shouts of triumph at each tag echoing in the clear air, until they were both breathless and in Saffron's case almost half drowned.
Later, over a superb dinner served outside on the terrace, the house and garden aglow with hidden lights among the shrubs and trees, Saffron sighed as she drained her coffee-cup.
'Why the sigh, Saffron?' Alex queried softly.
'I was just thinking how perfect this setting is—the house, the lights, the weather—but. . .'
'But the company is not. . . Is that what you're trying to say?' he demanded harshly, the flash of anger in his dark eyes searing her to the bone.
'No, I was going to say, but I miss my work, that's all.' She did not want to spoil what had been a lovely day. She saw him visibly relax, and his dark eyes suddenly glinted with devilment.
"That's no problem.' Rising to his feet, he caught her hand and dragged Saffron to hers. 'Never let it be said that I deprive my wife of her work.' And, leading her into the house, he added, 'You can massage me any time.'
'I'd rather make you up,' she teased, not at all sure that she could massage Alex without jumping his bones.
'No way!' he exclaimed, horrified.
'Men should at the very least use a moisturiser. The old-fashioned colognes simply dry the masculine skin- no good at all,' Saffron blustered on, her pulse racing, and not with the effort of walking upstairs.
'Go bury yourself in the study, Alex. We ladies are going to have a hen party,' Anna instructed her son with the wave of a beringed hand.
Saffron could not repress a smile as she saw Alex's look of puzzlement and then his cautioning glance at herself, before he reluctantly walked off to his study. His mother, aunt and cousin had arrived for lunch, and over coffee it had been decided that Saffron would make all three of them up for tonight's dinner party. Anna had declared, 'What's the point of a beauty therapist in the family if we can't make use of her?' and Saffron had laughingly agreed.
In fact, as she carefully set out all her materials in Anna's bedroom, she could not help concluding that Anna, far from being the poor, put-upon lady she had described when telling Saffron the sad story of her husband and Katherina, was in fact a very strong-willed woman. Look at the way the two older women had arrived together today, laughing and joking and obviously intent on enjoying their holiday. It didn't make sense.
But then nothing in her life for the past few months had made much sense. If she could only turn the clock back to May and the fateful day she had agreed to leave the agency and work solely for Anna Statis—safe and secure in London, no one to worry about but herself, no one to care about but herself—would she do it? Was that really what she wanted? To live out her life alone with only her work for company, never to have felt the touch of Alex's hands, the warmth of his embrace. . .? Saffron shuddered.
'Are you all right, Saffy, dear?'
