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“Wait, Alex. You said tofollow this chemistry to itslogical conclusion. Butmarriage is a big step—areyou sure you’re readyfor it? You have been abachelor for an awfullong time.”
Saffron deliberately lowered her voice, a slight tremor to her tone.
“Marriage? Who mentioned marriage?” He let go of her and stepped back as if he had been stung.
“I’m sorry if I misunderstood,” she said softly, acting for all she was worth. “But I’m afraid that’s the only way you’ll ever get me.”
JACQUELINE BAIRD began writing as a hobby when her family objected to the smell of her oil painting, and immediately became hooked on romance. She loves traveling, and worked her way around the world from Europe to the Americas and Australia, returning to marry her teenage sweetheart She lives in the north of England, and has two grown-up sons. She spends most weekends with husband, Jim, sailing their small boat
A Devious Desire
Jacqueline Baird
SAFFRON flopped back down on the plastic chair at the roadside cafe and grinned at the elderly lady seated at the opposite side of the table. ‘I’ve paid the bill and asked the proprietor to call us a taxi. It’s half six and we have to be back on board by seven.’
‘Don’t fuss, child, and finish your wine.’
‘Your wish is my command,’ she quipped. ‘But remember that is your third glass. Don’t blame me if your arthritis plays up later on.’ And with a wry smile tugging her wide mouth Saffron picked up her glass and sipped the sparkling wine. She hadn’t the heart to deny Anna a few moments longer at the cafe in the ancient walled town of Rhodes. A cafe Anna had spent hours trying to find!
‘What was so important about this particular place?’ Saffron asked for the umpteenth time, but not really expecting an answer. Anna had been very secretive about the reason behind her search for this cafe, but Saffron wasn’t complaining.
A month ago she had been working as a beauty and aromatherapist for a London agency that provided a personal service to clients in their own homes, and also to a few of the more enlightened city hospitals, when a request for a home visit from Anna Statis’s doctor had arrived. The lady had had a fall and badly bruised her shoulder, which, combined with arthritis in her knee, had left her in a little difficulty with mobility. He had considered that aromatherapy might help her. Saffron was given the job. Ten days later she had a six-month contract as Anna’s personal therapist, and for the past week they had been cruising the Greek Islands on the liner the Pallas Corinthian. Life could not be more perfect. Saffron sighed in contentment, and raised her glass to her lips.
They had just spent an enjoyable afternoon walking around Rhodes, discovering the Street of the Knights and marvelling at the inns that housed the Knights of St John. Then finally they had found this small bar, much to Anna’s delight and Saffron’s relief; she did not want the old lady overtired.
‘My son was conceived here.’
‘What?’ Saffron jerked upright and swallowed the wine, almost choking with laughter. ‘You’re having me on. In a pavement cafe?’ Her sparkling green eyes clashed with misty blue ones.
‘It is true. I was a dancer on a cruise ship. Very daring for a well brought up English girl in my era. The ship visited Rhodes regularly and I met and fell in love with a handsome Greek, Nikos Statis, and in a room above this café my son Alexandros was conceived forty years ago this week.’
Saffron glanced at her employer, not sure whether to believe her. In her mid-sixties, her once blonde hair, now white, was swept up in a loose chignon, revealing the delicate features of a still beautiful face, but a sad, reminiscent smile hazed her blue eyes.
‘And now you’re back again. How romantic,’ Saffron murmured. But privately she had her doubts. Within a week of taking up her live-in job as Anna’s therapist she had watched in awe as the old lady had persuaded her doctor that what she needed to make a quick recovery was a cruise! Anna might look fragile, but she had an amazing ability to get her own way.
‘Romantic! I thought so at the time,’ Anna continued softly. ‘But I was wrong—so wrong.’
Saffron was intrigued and, eager to hear more, prompted, ‘Wrong…?’
‘Some day I will tell you my life story. I feel the need to tell someone, and in the short time we have been together I feel closer to you than I have to anyone in years. Probably because you have been on your own and lonely
