The Man From her Wayward Past

She drew in a fast breath as Luke took hold of her arm. ‘Nothing,’ she said edgily. ‘I just want to go back.’

Luke lifted his hands away. ‘If that’s what you want.’

‘If you’ve come looking for the past, you won’t find it here,’ she blurted out. ‘Sorry.’ She tried a laugh that didn’t quite work. ‘Don’t know where that came from,’ she added in a jokey voice, pulling a face.

He did. ‘I always come to the beach when I want to recapture those feelings from years back. There’s nothing wrong with that, Lucia—’

‘I tried it,’ she interrupted. ‘And it doesn’t work for me. I’ve looked for the past here, but I can’t find it.’

As emotion welled behind her eyes she stared away to sea. Lucia couldn’t see her handsome Argentinian father and her Cornish mother laughing together as they strolled along the beach as she had hoped, he guessed. All she had found in St Oswalds was a rundown guest house and an old lady battling to keep things afloat without any real hope of doing so. But he’d seen real prospects for change here, and found it hard to believe Lucia couldn’t see how large a part she played in that. Her confidence must have taken a real kicking. And now he knew why and how. He just had to be sure he got the timing to voice his concerns and got the healing absolutely right.

‘The worst thing of all,’ she said, distracting him, ‘was that until you came along I couldn’t see how I could help.’

‘You’ve already helped Margaret with your friendship and with your company, as well as your hard work. And we’re not finished yet,’ he assured her.

‘It’s all words, Luke.’

‘No, it’s not,’ he argued. ‘Let me prove it to you?’

‘What do you mean?’ she said, staring at him suspiciously, but there was just the ghost of remembered humour in her eyes and that was enough for him.

‘Okay, here’s the challenge,’ he said. ‘If I don’t make you laugh and remember the good times we used to have on this beach I’ll give you a wage-rise. How about that?’

‘I haven’t even fixed a wage with you yet,’ she pointed out.

‘So I’ve got nothing to lose.’

‘You are totally shameless,’ she protested.

Maybe he was, but she hadn’t said no, and to see that smile still playing round her lips was enough for him.

‘Luke, what are you doing?’ Luke was kicking off his boots. ‘Are you completely mad?’ she demanded as he started unzipping his jeans. ‘You can’t be thinking of swimming in the sea. It’s freezing! You are mad,’ she concluded, backing away from the latest massive roller.

‘Chicken?’ Luke shouted back.

‘Certainly not.’ Well, maybe a little, she conceded as Luke started on his boxers.

She clutched the back of her head as Luke casually stripped them off. ‘Luke, you can’t do that! What if someone sees you?’

‘You mean there are more people as mad as us?’

Swimming off a freezing cold beach at night? Hmm …

It wasn’t like they hadn’t done it before …

Oh, what the hell!

She was probably going to land herself with the most graphic erotic dream yet, but chicken she was not, Lucia concluded as Luke plunged into the sea. And, yes, he was tanned all over.

Shaking his head like an angry wolf, Luke roared back at her over the crash of surf, ‘I thought you said we were equal, Lucia? Looks to me like I’m the superior being after all.’

Firming her jaw, she yelled, ‘Turn your back.’

‘You speak and I obey.’

‘I wish,’ Lucia muttered, tugging off her clothes.

She raced into the sea, shrieking and wailing as a wall of ice-cold water hit her. ‘You didn’t turn around,’ she complained, regaining her feet. ‘That shows blatant disregard of the rules.’