* * *
Saffron turned restlessly in the bed, and pushed the light satin cover down to her waist. But she knew it was not the heat keeping her awake—the yacht was fully air-conditioned—nor the low throbbing of its powerful engine as it ploughed through the Aegean Sea in the middle of the night. It was the intervention of the frightening, sinister figure of Alex Statis in her life.
With an efficiency she could only marvel at he had whisked her and Anna away from the cruise ship and, after a brief taxi ride, into a waiting helicopter; by ten o’clock the same evening, to her amazement, the helicopter had landed on a helipad on the top of a luxurious ocean-going yacht, anchored off the Greek mainland.
With a minimum of fuss a very correct steward had shown Saffron to her cabin on the top deck, and what a cabin! A large circular bed in a mahogany-panelled room with a matching en suite, the bathroom and toiletries all sparkling white with brass and mahogany trim. Anna’s quarters were even more luxurious, with a private sitting-room.
Saffron had tried to quiz her boss while unpacking, but for some reason the older woman had not been very forthcoming. However, while Saffron had gently brushed Anna’s hair, before settling her for the night, she’d begun to talk.
‘I guess I was being irresponsible to go off on my own that way—at least, Alex thinks so,’ she murmured softly, almost to herself, and then, looking in the mirror, she fixed Saffron with pleading blue eyes. ‘But you understand, don’t you, dear?’
Saffron didn’t, not one bit; her head was reeling at the events of the evening. Dinner had been an informal buffet, not because of the lateness of the hour—Greeks were used to eating late—but in deference to the fragile health of her charge, she was sure. After the meal Alex had taken one look at his mother and then told Saffron to see the lady to bed. Saffron had been only too happy to comply; for the last few hours she had been all too conscious of Alex’s eyes following her every move, studying her as if she were something the cat had dragged in, and the feeling had been unsettling to say the least.
She smiled at Anna’s reflection in the mirror. ‘Not really,’ she confessed simply.
‘No, I suppose not. It was an old lady’s fantasy to recreate the past. The Pallas Corinthian was the boat I worked on, you see, the one I later found out Nikos, my husband, owned…’
‘You mean you got me to book a cruise on your own shipping line?’ Saffron had wondered, when Anna had asked her to book the cruise, why she had insisted on the one particular ship. Now she knew.
‘Not exactly. Alex is in charge of the business, has been for ages, and he sold the liner to another company years ago. He has no time for sentiment. That’s why I couldn’t tell him what I wanted to do. But I’m glad we had our little holiday, Saffy; seeing Rhodes and the café today was enough, and thank you again, dear, for pan-dering to a sentimental old fool.’
Instinctively Saffron put down the brush and gave Anna a hug. ‘I don’t think you’re an old fool; I think you’re wonderful. And now do you want me to massage your shoulder before bed or not?’
‘No, not tonight. I’m tired enough to go straight to sleep.’ Rising, she touched Saffron’s cheek. ‘You’re a good girl to put up with me, but there is one little thing I would like you to do.’
‘Yes.’ Saffron realised that in the past few weeks she had grown to really care for Anna and, arrogant son apart, she would do anything for her.
‘Please don’t mention to Alex why I wanted a beauty therapist as well as a masseuse. I would hate him to know I can’t even lift my arm high enough to comb my own hair. He is an astute man, and would soon guess there was something more wrong with me than arthritis, and it would only worry him.’
Personally Saffron thought it was about time the globe-trotting swine did worry about his mother, but not by a flicker of an eyelash did she reveal her dislike of the man; instead she promised to say nothing.
Tossing and turning in the luxurious bed, Saffron tried to tell herself that nothing much had changed from this morning. They were still cruising but simply on a private yacht. So why did she have this weird feeling of foreboding? It didn’t make sense. She still had her job, in a week or two she and Anna would return to Anna’s comfortable mews house in the heart of London and Saffron would rarely, if ever, see Alex Statis again. All she had to do was keep her mouth shut and out of his way; that shouldn’t be too hard; she was just the hired help after all…
She closed her eyes and once more tried to sleep, but the vivid image of Alex leaning against the door-frame as she’d walked by him to follow Anna to her cabin seemed to be imprinted on her pupils. Casually elegant, his black hair swept back from his broad forehead, grey wings curling around his ears betraying his thirty-nine years, and a wide, sensual mouth that had hissed cynically as she’d passed him, ‘You can leave now. But I haven’t forgotten I owe you.’ That parting shot lingered threateningly in her mind.
Her eyes flashed open. ‘You can leave now,’ he had said, and something niggled at the back of her brain, a sense of déjà. vu. Had she met him before? No, it wasn’t possible; her mind must be playing tricks, or—perhaps the most likely explanation—she must have seen a photograph of him in his mother’s house. Yes, that was it—of course. And, closing her eyes once more, she finally fell into a troubled sleep where a tall, dark man stalked her dreams…
A knock on the door broke into her restless sleep and, slowly opening her eyes, she yawned widely.
‘Coffee, madam,’ she heard the steward announce, and responded.
‘Come in.’ Hauling herself up into a sitting position, she blinked drowsily, wondering if Anna was awake yet. Then it hit her, the events of the previous evening, and her eyes widened in horror on the approaching man, a gasp of outrage escaping her. ‘You…’
Alex, dressed in a brief white towelling robe belted loosely around his waist, revealing a wide expanse of hair-roughened chest and inordinately long, muscular legs, strolled to the bedside, a tray bearing a coffee-jug and cup on it in his strong hands. ‘Good morning, Saffron.’
‘G-g-get out of my room,’ she stuttered. The man wasn’t conventionally handsome, but he possessed a lethal attraction few women could resist, herself included. His tanned skin, the early morning stubble darkening his jaw gave him the rakish appearance of a swashbuckling pirate.
‘Now is that any way to greet your employer? Especially when he is delivering you sustenance.’
‘You are not my employer,’ she retorted, but his remark had reminded her of her duties. ‘But if you get out of my cabin I can dress and go and see Anna,’ she said, suddenly wide awake, and wary. She had no idea how lovely she looked, her red-gold hair tumbling in disarray around her shoulders, one long strand with a will of its own curving around the fullness of her breast, the skimpy spaghetti-strapped cotton nightie she was wearing barely covering her high, firm breasts.
‘You’re not a morning person…Pity, because you look absolutely delectable.’
How dared he flirt with her? Saffron’s angry eyes flew to his face and she was horrified to realise that his gaze was fixed rather lower on her body. Grabbing the luxurious satin sheet, she pulled it up to her chin. Just in time, as Alex sat down on the side of the bed. He was much too close, the bedroom was much too intimate, and he had no right to be here.
‘Will
