an almost deserted beach. Afterwards they lingered over their wine, and eventually strolled along the beach.
She found Alex an informative and amusing conversationalist as he told her something of the island’s history. Apparently not that long ago it had been just another tiny Greek island inhabited by shepherds and fishermen. But the stylised form of building all white with the distinctive blue touches had been seen as so picturesque that a crafty local had decided they should cash in on the tourist trade. Now it was extremely popular with all the cruise liners, but was never overrun, simply because the bigger ships could not dock. The only way ashore was by tender.
By mid-afternoon the sun was much stronger in the sky and Alex suggested that they rest for a while. From the small duffel bag he was carrying he withdrew a towel and spread it on the golden sand, and Saffron followed suit, cautiously laying her own towel a foot away from his.
‘Spoilsport,’ he murmured as casually he slipped out of his clothes and stood before her clad only in tiny black swimming-trunks that left little to the imagination.
Saffron gulped and dragged her gaze away from such a blatant display of sheer masculine perfection. He might be nearly forty, she thought, but not a spare inch of flesh marred his tall, muscular frame; he had the body of a man in his prime, and she was beginning to wonder at the wisdom of being alone with him.
‘Race you to the water,’ Alex challenged, and she had to look up at him.
‘You go—I’ll catch you up.’ She needed a couple of minutes alone to still her erratically beating heart. She watched as with a casual nod he turned and began to run down to where the turquoise water met the silvery sand. He was as enticing from the rear as from the front, his broad tanned back tapering down to gorgeous lean hips and long, muscular legs. God! What was she thinking of? In a rush she slipped off her plain denim skirt and the neat short-sleeved shirt she had worn over her swimsuit.
She glanced down at herself, and wondered if the suit had been such a good idea. She had bought it for the cruise, thinking it was more conservative than a bikini, but now she had grave doubts. In jade-green, it was a simple figure-hugging Lycra suit with high cut-away legs almost to her waist, strapless and slashed straight across her breasts. Suddenly she saw just how provocative it was. How come she had never noticed before? she groaned silently, but it was too late to do anything about it now, and, taking a deep breath, she ran down and into the water. She could see Alex’s head bobbing in the distance; he was a magnificent swimmer, but she had a sneaky suspicion that he was the kind of man who would do everything magnificently.
Saffron did not bother to try and compete; she could swim but was no great shakes, so she stayed near the shallows and floated for a while, enjoying the soothing stroke of the water against her sun-warmed flesh. Occasionally she glanced at Alex, who appeared to be heading determinedly towards an outcrop of rock that to Saffron looked miles away. He swam with a rhythmic determination that she could only marvel at. Slowly, with a sigh—it wasn’t disappointment at Alex ignoring her, she told herself firmly—she made her way back to shore.
Collapsing flat on her back on the towel, allowing the sun to dry her, she closed her eyes. The hustle of the past two days, the food and wine at lunch, and the warmth of the sun all combined to make her fall asleep.
‘Saffron!’ She woke up with a start, for a moment completely disorientated and wondering where she was. Alex was leaning over her, his body damp, drops of water glistening on the dark hair of his chest and taut, flat belly. He frowned down at her. ‘Don’t you know it is the height of stupidity to fall asleep in the sun?’ His hand reached out and with one finger he traced the soft curve of her breasts revealed by the straight bodice of her swimsuit. ‘This flesh is far too fair and tender—you will burn,’ he opined huskily.
‘Alex,’ she murmured dazedly; his touch was doing unreal things to her pulse-rate. She wanted to ask him if he’d enjoyed his marathon swim, but he was quite openly studying the soft swell of her breasts, his finger tugging lightly on the taut fabric, lowering it slightly. She shivered as his finger dipped down almost to the crest of one breast. She knew she should object, but had not the will to stop him, hypnotised by the sensual gleam in his eyes and his throatily voiced comment.
‘So silky and voluptuous. A perfect combination.’
He smelt of sun and sea and sky and a lingering masculine scent that was all his own. He moved, and she felt the length of his leg move over her thigh, entrapping her slender limbs, as his dark head lowered, blocking out the sun.
‘Saffron…’ he rasped. ‘You drive me mad.’ And deep down inside her Saffron felt something spring to life— a matching madness. Perhaps…
She knew she should move, get away, but instead her tongue licked nervously over her suddenly dry lips as she anticipated his kiss. The hot brush of his lips over hers made her gasp; his hand cupped the round fullness of her breast and gently squeezed as his mouth moved more determinedly against hers, his tongue thrusting inside, arousing a response in her that she had never experienced with any man before. She felt his instant reaction, his length hard against her lower body, and he broke the kiss with a groan of frustration.
There was no ‘perhaps’ about it, she thought helplessly as, wide-eyed and trembling, she stared up at him. He looked dark and threatening, his eyes narrowing as they scanned the pale oval of her face.
‘God, Mama has surpassed herself this time!’ he exclaimed almost angrily. ‘How old are you, Saffron— nineteen? Twenty?’ His fingers deftly readjusted the top of her bathing suit, and his leg slid off her body so that he was lying on his side. Propped on one elbow, he stared down at her with an expression of disgust twisting his harsh features. ‘I must be crazy,’ he muttered.
Finally finding her voice, Saffron responded in what she hoped was a steady tone. ‘Flattered though I am, I happen to be twenty-five, almost twenty-six.’ And why he should mention his mother she had no idea…
‘Thank God for that. I don’t seduce young girls.’
‘And you’re not seducing me.’ Saffron sat up abruptly, shoving at Alex’s chest so that he fell on to his back. ‘I think it’s time we left here; I’ve had enough sun for one day,’ she babbled as it sank into her bemused mind just where his question about her age was leading.
A strong hand curved around her shoulder as she tried to stand up. ‘Wait, Saffron. I know we started off on the wrong foot yesterday, though you have to admit that was not solely my fault. But we are two consenting adults; surely we can be sensible about this?’
Saffron turned her head to gaze down at Alex. His deep brown eyes were fixed on her face, the residue of passion still lingering in their depths. ‘Sensible?’ she queried.
‘Yes. I want you, more than I have wanted a woman in years.’ He cast a rueful glance down his long body, and Saffron’s eyes followed his and then quickly looked away. The man had no shame, she thought furiously; he was quite blatantly aroused. ‘It’s been a long time since a woman has got me this way so easily, and I think we should explore the possibilities. I know you want me—you tremble every time I touch you. So how about it?’
It was the very matter-of-fact way in which he stated his case that infuriated Saffron. Springing to her feet, she looked down at where Alex lay. He looked like some basking killer shark, about ready to devour its prey. And she was it…Snatching up her towel, she shook it over his supine form, covering him in sand. ‘In your dreams, buster!’ she scoffed and, grabbing her clothes, she stormed off down the beach, his deep laughter ringing in her ears.
Of course five minutes later she had to walk back,
