Catherine O'Connor - Obligation To Love

‘Thank you,’ she muttered, half under her breath.

Hayley knew she sounded rude—her curt reply was meant to. She had the distinct impression he was toying with her as a game on the long flight and she had no desire to be part of it.

‘There is a choice of menu at lunchtime—perhaps you should like to see?’ He proffered her the smart, neat card and Hayley felt obliged to take it. She read and re-read the menu, as every dish sounded so delicious it was hard to choose. This was a far cry from the synthetic packaged meals one was usually served by airlines.

‘The choice is difficult, no?’ he asked, giving her an enigmatic grin, which was full of humour yet sexy and provocative. Hayley, despite the warnings of her own instincts, found herself returning it. How she wished she were more attractive and more experienced with men. Then she, too, could flirt away the journey, instead of blushing uncomfortably like a naïve schoolgirl when confronted with an undeniably attractive man.

‘Yes, it certainly is difficult, they all sound so lovely: smoked salmon cornets, burgundy pâté, quails’ eggs in aspic.’ She read out the menu with obvious delight. She was unaccustomed to such luxuries but suddenly became keenly aware that he was not. She clamped her mouth shut, too embarrassed to say any more and she caught the look of amusement on his face. ‘I don’t usually travel first-class,’ she confessed, her eyes darting around as she hoped no one else heard her. He said nothing, he just focused on her again for what seemed an age, his expression unfathomable. Hayley flicked back to the menu, studying it with intense interest to cover her embarrassment.

‘And those are only the appetisers; the main course is even harder, no?’ he interjected suddenly, the tension of the moment shattered by the warmth of his enquiry. He leant over to look at her card, too close for Hayley’s comfort. She stiffened as she felt his shoulder against her, exerting a slight pressure that warned her of his strength. The proximity of him was once more sending shock-waves through her slender frame, and she suddenly felt very exposed.

‘I think I’ll choose later,’ she said hurriedly, passing him back the card with a sudden thrust; she didn’t want him becoming too friendly. He was far too dangerous, she knew that. It was for that reason he unnerved her. The sheer sexual power of the man frightened her. He, for his part, seemed to be aware of the effect he was having on her and was for some reason enjoying it.

‘Come now, did your mother warn you never to talk to strangers?’ He was laughing at her again. He was a smooth operator, calculating yet still charming, Hayley reluctantly admitted. He was totally aware of the effect he must have been having on women since he’d left the cradle. He definitely had magic powers, but Hayley refused to be charmed. She bridled at his attitude.

‘As a matter of fact, she did—and about wolves in sheep’s clothing,’ she retorted, hoping the put-down would bruise his ego and he would leave her alone. There was a flash of anger, she thought, but it happened so quickly that Hayley was unable to be sure. Then his smile widened still further, his teeth appearing brilliant white against his tanned face. He looked younger when he smiled, the cynicism seemed to leave his face and, for an instant, he looked like a schoolboy.

‘In that case, my name is Alex; see, we are no longer strangers, and as for being a wolf...’ He paused, his expression a picture of innocence and his hands spread open, his palms lifted to heaven. ‘Perhaps.’ He laughed again, teasing her gently, and, regardless of her warning bells, Hayley laughed too.

‘Hayley. Hayley Swift.’ She extended her hand in a gesture of friendship. A look of confusion flickered for a moment in the dark depths of his eyes. Then he took her hand in his grasp, a thrilling sensation searing through it at his touch. The authority in his handshake was undeniable, but Hayley’s too was firm. In business, one judged and was often judged by the type of handshake given, and she certainly wanted him to know they were equal.

‘Now, Hayley, you drink your coffee, and I shall choose lunch, if that is agreeable?’ It was a polite request, not an order, and Hayley felt coaxed to concur. To do otherwise would seem churlish. She liked the sound of her name on his lips; his accent made it sound delightfully different, and for some reason she suddenly felt a different person with him. She felt she’d come alive, and she was vibrant and young. She sipped her coffee while she thought of that: young! She had never been young, had the freedom of youth. It had been taken from her. Was it too late to find her freedom from responsibility? she mused. It would be nice to see Melissa settled, then perhaps she would become more carefree. This time she was determined that Melissa would stand on her own two feet; she would merely be there as support.

She was too absorbed in her own thoughts to notice that Alex had finished ordering and was watching her intently again, but this time as if making comparisons with someone else.

‘You are deep in thought,’ he said, resting his hand on her arm. It was more a statement, not a question, and Hayley tensed at his observant inspection.

‘Hmm, I suppose I was miles away,’ she agreed, sighing gently. ‘I was thinking how excited I am, like a silly teenager.’

‘You must learn to be young again, to capture the liberty you gave up so willingly,’ he said seriously. But somehow he sounded as if he was speaking of himself, not her. Hayley was puzzled.

‘Liberty?’ she echoed. ‘From what?’ she asked, her eyes narrowing on him, not knowing quite why she felt sure he was talking about himself, since he was not wearing a marriage ring.

‘We should never want freedom from someone or something,’ he explained quickly, as if covering his tracks. ‘Freedom to do, is what I mean. To do all the things we couldn’t do before. Surely there is plenty you wish to do?’ His words went deep, but Hayley was still convinced that he was hiding something from her. Why should such an attractive and wealthy man still be single; and why such bitterness when he spoke of freedom? Hayley was intrigued.

‘Do you know Greece?’ she asked, determined to steer the conversation on to a more neutral topic. He understood immediately, and again she caught his silent laughter as he cast her a wry look.

‘It is my home,’ he said, the pride in his voice evident. ‘I do not spend as much time there as I should like, but business commitments force me away.’ Hayley found herself drowning in mysterious depths, trapped by his hypnotic physical beauty.

‘I hope to see as much of the country as possible during my short stay,’ responded Hayley, too aware of the influence he was having on her. It must be the altitude, she thought, trying desperately to rationalise the depth of sexual awareness he was arousing in her. ‘Greece is a totally new experience for me,’ she continued. She longed to hear from a true native about Greece and all the best sights to see.

‘You are on holiday, then?’ he asked, in honeyed tones that seemed to caress her already sensitive soul.

‘Sort of,’ Hayley answered, her doubt apparent. She could hardly call it a holiday. Mr Christos’s invitation was far too formal to set firm.

‘Yet you still hope to see the country, yes?’

Hayley nodded zealously, her heavy fringe bouncing on her forehead. ‘As much as I’m able to. I’ve no idea how much free time I’ll have,’ she confessed, her voice fading to a whisper.

‘You will have to make time,’ he commanded, sounding surprisingly harsh. ‘The contrasts in Greece, from the ancient ruins to the bustling holiday resorts, all have to be sampled.’