The Kyriakis Baby. SARA WOOD
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was it? I suppose the immigration officer tipped you off so I had to sit about cooling my heels while you ransacked your house for photos of my child.’
‘Staphos called me, yes,’ he conceded. ‘We’re fishing buddies. He had a hunch you must be Taki’s widow. But I always carry these photos.’ He contemplated her thoughtfully. ‘I wasn’t expecting to see you for another couple of years.’ A sardonic curl deepened the etched arches of his mouth. ‘Are you on the run?’
She glared. ‘Of course not. I was released six months ago.’
‘Six months!’ he exclaimed with exaggerated surprise. ‘And you were so desperate to see your beloved daughter that you dawdled straight here!’
‘I’ve been ill.’ She flung the words at him, seething at the injustice of his remark. ‘That’s why my sentence was reduced.’
‘You’ve recovered remarkably well,’ he observed with heavy sarcasm.
‘Good nutrition, a healthy lifestyle and a clear conscience!’
‘I can believe two out of three,’ he mocked.
She couldn’t fence with him any more. She felt emotionally drained. Anger and anxiety weren’t good for her and she tried to avoid it. Unfortunately there was something about Leon that made her blood boil. Whatever had happened to her self-control? she wondered gloomily. One snarl from Leon and it ran away with its tail between its legs.
‘This isn’t getting us anywhere,’ she said wearily. ‘We must come to some arrangement. And I’d rather we talked where I can sit down out of the sun. I’m not fully fit and this heat saps my strength.’ Longingly she thought of a long drink in a frosted glass with ice in it. ‘Perhaps we can find a taverna.’
Leon shrugged and picked up her case. ‘My car’s over there. If you insist on wasting your time…’
‘Being reunited with my child is hardly a waste of time,’ she rebuked icily.
She trudged behind Leon feeling as battered as if she’d gone twenty rounds in a boxing ring. Maybe she’d beaten him in the first battle of wits, but there would be more difficulties put in her way and she must rally her energies and be on full alert.
‘Staying long?’ He flung the words curtly over his shoulder.
She hurried to catch up, conscious that every taxi driver was watching their progress with interest. Tired of hedging, she decided to be frank.
‘As long as it takes.’
He glanced down at her defiant face, his mouth creaking up in a faintly mocking smile.
‘Then we’d better find you a home you can grow old and grey in.’
With a groan, Emma slapped her hand to her forehead in dismay. ‘I forgot. I’ve got one. A home, I mean.’
‘Where?’ he enquired quickly.
She frowned. ‘That’s the trouble—I don’t know. I should have got the address from John before he left. He’s found me some cheap rooms to rent in the town.’
‘He usually stays at the Hotel Zantos,’ Leon commented drily. ‘Five star. Two pools. Sauna—’
Emma hardly heard. She was concentrating on staying upright. She’d taken on too much, she realised gloomily. She wasn’t fit enough yet for all this hassle. She was dead on her feet and had nowhere to go for a good bath and an extended collapse.
‘I’ve got to call him,’ she said wearily. She closed her eyes and gave a heavy sigh. ‘Do you have a phone?’ she asked in a small voice. ‘Please, Leon,’ she whispered, on the edge of exhaustion.
He studied her uplifted face, tension stretching the skin over his taut jaw.
‘Let’s get across the road to the shade of the trees,’ he said quietly, as taxis, hire-cars and coaches roared into life, heralding the arrival of another planeload of tourists.
Too feeble, too close to tears to reply, she allowed his proprietorial hand to descend on the small of her back while he shepherded her through the mêlée. His palm burned its imprint into her flesh and when she stumbled in confusion his arm slipped more securely around her waist.
Its instant comfort baffled her even more. He was her adversary and she should cringe from his touch. But then, it had been a long time since a man had held her close, years since she’d felt safe and protected.
Her eyes grew huge. That last occasion had been when she and Leon had been together. He’d kissed her goodbye the night before his engagement to Marina. She remembered it well. Lingering. Loving.
She winced. The wonderful strength and pressure of Leon’s arm was a false security. He’d have thrown her to the lions if he could have found some lurking near the hire-cars.
‘All right?’ he asked quietly when they reached the other side.
His head was bent to hers in query. The soft hairs on her cheek tingled from the drift of his breath. Something warm and disturbing was coiling in her stomach and sharpening her senses even while weakening her body. And then he had dropped the case and was turning her to him with a surprising gentleness.
Without any effort on her part, her eyes closed in response. His breath came warm and quick on her sensitised mouth. She felt like putty in his hands, too tired to fight his hypnotic appeal. It was both wonderful and frightening. She had to get away. Fast.
She opened her eyes a fraction. ‘I…I don’t feel too good,’ she whispered miserably, her heart sinking as she realised that she was too fatigued to successfully plead her case for access.
‘In that case, let’s forget the taverna and cheap digs and get an upgrade,’ he murmured soothingly.
‘I just want John,’ she said in panic. And to sleep for a hundred years… Her eyes met his and were misted with longing.
‘Touching. But you can make do with me.’ Tight-lipped again, Leon pushed her resisting body into the car. ‘Relax. You’ll snap tendons, screwed up like that. What are you worried about? As sure as hell I’m not in a mood for abduction.’
‘Once was enough, was it?’ she flashed, obstinately remaining stiff as a board in the seat.
‘More than.’
Simmering darkly, he leaned across, intent on fastening the seat belt for her. Emma swallowed as first his beautifully smooth golden jaw and then the ever-kissable nape of his neck came to within a hair’s breadth of her breathless mouth. Incapable of stopping herself, she inhaled, her senses reeling from the clean, fresh maleness of him.
And she was too weak to protest, too shattered by the journey and, perhaps, the emotional excitement, to prevent him from invading her space and protesting that she was perfectly capable of fastening her own seat belt. Because she wasn’t.
Unaccountably panic-stricken, she stared out of the window. It was the upsurge of memories, she thought. Her brain was playing tricks with her body, reminding her of love and tenderness…
Her eyes widened as she saw that her case had been abandoned some distance away. ‘My case! It’ll be stolen!’ she cried in agitation.
He paused, turning to look at her. This close, his eyes seemed as black as newly hacked coal. Suddenly Emma couldn’t get her breath, and sat stunned by the impact of the electrical charge that leapt across the gap between them both and which wrenched fiercely at her pained heart.
The man was married. He ought to keep himself switched in neutral, she thought crossly.
‘Your case is safe. We’re honest on this island,’ he snapped.
She winced as his words seemed to slide like a cruel knife into her ribs. The seat belt finally slotted into place. Leon moved back with a tantalising waft of lemony soap and a blur of glossy dark hair and polished skin. His hair still curled defiantly at the nape, she saw,