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enthusiastic.’
    ‘It’s not because of you, don’t get me wrong. I know you’ll make sure I enjoy myself.’
    ‘Then you have no excuse. I won’t take no for an answer. Where shall we go?’
    Realising she had lost her battle, Taryn smiled and said, ‘Seacombe. It’s our nearest seaside—very small and very quiet—unless you’d prefer somewhere With more life? ’
    ‘No, no. It will suit me fine. I see enough fast living. Do you think Gammy will pack us a lunch?’
    ‘I’ll do it myself, though if we don’t go back to bed soon I’ll never be up to go anywhere.’
    They finished their drink in silence. Luke rinsed the cups and left them on the draining board. ‘Goodnight, Taryn. I won’t disturb you again.’
    But it was a long time before she slept. Her vision was disturbed by the man lying downstairs. Of the face she had once tried to forget and which had now come back into her life. In some strange terrifying way it was as though fate was trying to get its revenge. Destiny wanted her to fall in love with this man, regardless of who he was or where he came from.
    She was beginning to accept the fact that he was not Mark. Little things—too tiny to be of any significance in themselves—told her he was not the same person. Mark, for instance, would never have slept on a camp bed. He liked his comfort too much. And a quiet day by the sea? Not at all in his line.
    Another thing that she was afraid to acknowledge —refused to acknowledge—yet couldn’t ignore. Her response to Luke’s overtures. It wasn’t simply because he looked like Mark, no matter how many times she told herself it was. She definitely felt drawn towards him, whether it was just a physical attraction she was not sure at this stage—but she couldn’t easily push to one side the effect he had on her. Whether he was married or not the magnetism was there. She despised herself for falling prey to another man who did not want her—for of course he didn’t. He had a wife—who he presumably loved and who he was bringing here to this village—a thought that had not bothered her until now. Any overtures on his part were merely a form of therapy to try and convince her that she still loved Mark. It seemed that no sooner had she got over one man she was thrown right back in and had to start sorting out her life all over again. Yet in spite of these thoughts she looked forward to spending a whole day in his company.
     
    When Taryn awoke the sun was already high in the sky. Jumping out of bed, she looked through the window—just in time to see Luke’s helicopter passing overhead. Her first thought was that he had changed his mind and was leaving after all. A tremor of disappointment ran through her—then she remembered his offer to Rory and smiled. He was a kind man. No wonder her nephew had taken to him.
    Downstairs Gammy put her breakfast on the table. ‘You’re late, child,’ she said. ‘Luke’s been up hours. Says you’re going to Seacombe today. When did you decide?’
    ‘About two this morning,’ smiled Taryn, and in reply to her aunt’s raised eyebrows she explained Luke’s mishap with the milk.
    Gammy laughed. ‘Never heard a thing myself. Eat up now and I’ll see what I can find for your lunch.'
    An hour later they were on their way. It was a glorious summer day and Taryn felt almost lighthearted. Almost—the only cloud on her horizon being Luke’s married status. Determinedly, though, she pushed this thought to the back of her mind— this would be a day to remember.
    Luke drove. He looked cramped in the Mini, even with the seat pushed back as far as it would go, but he assured her he was all right. ‘You can take a turn later,' he said, ‘if I feel too uncomfortable.’
    She looked at him now, his crisp white shirt open to the waist, tailored linen slacks, suede shoes. The silver medallion he wore round his neck glinted in the rays of the sun. He turned, aware of Taryn’s interest, and smiled.