Free Lovers Never Lie by Gael Morrison Page A

once told her the best defense was a good offense. He had been referring to basketball, but the principle must be the same.
    "I'll let you know when money's a problem."
    "I've been in your hair long enough."
    "If this is about last night—"
    "It isn't," she denied hastily. Maybe direct was the route to take. "I have to go to Crete."
    "What's in Crete?"
    "Minoan ruins." She'd seen pictures of the ruins, though she knew little else about the islands.
    "There are plenty of ruins in Athens."
    "Listen," she snapped, "if you're worried about getting your money—"
    "I'm not worried."
    "I would only need a hundred dollars or so." The request stuck in Stacia's throat. Her grandmother had petit-pointed the maxim 'Neither a borrower nor a lender be' and had hung it in her front sitting room, where it had stared Stacia in the face every time she visited.
    "If you could lend me the money, I'd be grateful," Stacia went on hastily. "Once I contact the Embassy, a new passport and money will arrive in no time."
    "I'll go with you."
    "No!"
    "I don't mind."
    "Well, I do. I've burdened you long enough with my problems. Just lend me the money and I'll be gone."
    "That's what I'm afraid of," Andrew said.

 
     
     
    Chapter 6

     
    She looked lonely standing all by herself at the ship's railing. Andrew knew what it was to be lonely. Usually, he was able to ignore such feelings and throw himself into his work, his only salvation since Nancy had died. Work had been the only thing keeping guilt at bay. But this time, it was different.
    He moved to stand next to her.
    She eyed him warily.
    "Did you get what you wanted?" he asked.
    "Yes," she answered shortly.
    "Steerage?"
    Her smile was faint, but it softened the barrier of her eyes. "They call it standard."
    "Standard," he repeated. A ridiculous category for a woman like her. "So what does that give you? A chair in the cafeteria?"
    "One on deck," she said, shrugging.
    Andrew took a deep breath, determined to keep the anger from his voice. "There's no need for this."
    "There's every need." She stared at the water again, closing him out.
    "Sleeping on deck isn't safe."
    Her skin pulled taut over her cheek bones. "That's not your concern."
    She was right. Her safety should mean nothing to him. Not if she was the enemy. And if she was the enemy, why did he want her so?
    Stacia took a deep breath. She couldn't afford to let Andrew see she was afraid. Her father had said animals could sense fear, and when they did, they'd go for your jugular.
    No doubt Andrew would too.
    "Do you plan to visit your mother while you're in Greece?" she asked, forcing her voice to sound normal.
    "My mother?" he repeated, looking at her as though she was demented.
    "You said she was Greek."
    "She's dead." His eyelids half-closed but not before she caught a glimpse of the sadness lurking behind.
    "I'm sorry," she said softly. She knew what death was, knew it was impossible to hang on to anyone, no matter how much you needed them.
    He shrugged, but his shoulders seemed stiff. "It was a long time ago." His lips were stiff too.
    "And your father?" For a moment, Stacia didn't think he would answer.
    "God knows," he said finally, his face dark as thunder. "I haven't seen him in years."
    She frowned.
    "He walked out on my mother and me twenty years ago, and took my older brother along for the ride."
    She could feel his pain as though it were inside her. She pressed her eyes shut and fought it the only way she knew how, the way she had fought the agony when her own mother had died, by forcing it into a small corner of her heart and ruthlessly pretending it didn't exist.
    Her method didn't work any better now than it had before, and her hand stole sideways to cover his long fingers with her shorter ones. His hand rested, for an instant, under hers, so strong and hard it was impossible to believe he was capable of feeling distress. Then with a fierce glance in her direction, he snatched it away.
    Stacia stared at her hand, a numbness