The Greek Bridegroom. Helen Bianchin

course not.’

      ‘How dare he come in here and order roses…?’ She could hardly contain her anger. ‘Three dozen of them.’ Her eyes flashed blue fire. ‘Then give them to me?’

      Ana clicked her tongue and shook her head. ‘Very bad taste.’

      Rebekah’s mouth tightened. ‘I’m not accepting them.’ She pushed the bouquet into her sister’s hands. ‘You take them home.’

      ‘Why not you?’ Ana queried reasonably.

      ‘I’ll return them to stock.’ She spared them a glance, and her artist’s eye admired the blooms’ beauty. Just for a moment she felt a twinge of remorse.

      No man had gifted her anything in a while. And never flowers.

      ‘Who does Jace Dimitriades think he is?’ It was a question that required no answer, and she banked down a further tirade as a customer entered the boutique.

      Rebekah was glad of the interruption, although she seethed in silence for the rest of the day. A number of scenarios as to how she’d deal with him crossed her mind. Some of which, should she put them into effect, would be sure to get her arrested for causing grievous bodily harm.

      ‘Do you have a number where I can contact him?’

      It was late afternoon, and Ana was about to leave.

      ‘Jace?’

      ‘Of course, Jace.’

      Ana’s features assumed a thoughtful expression.

      ‘It’s been two years since your divorce. Don’t you think it’s time you emerged into the real world again?’

      ‘You’re advocating I have an affair?’

      ‘Who are you afraid of?’ Ana queried gently. ‘Jace or yourself?’ She walked to the door, paused and turned to give her sister a warm smile. ‘Think about it.’

      Rebekah opened her mouth, then closed it again.

      As an exit line, it was without equal.