The Boy is Back in Town
Nina Harrington
Who’s that guy?There was a time when the devastatingly sexy Ethan Chandler left Marigold Chance blushing and tongue-tied, but thankfully that’s all in the past. Now that the ice-cool international yachtsman has sailed smoothly back into her life, she’s determined to show him that the ugly duckling’s become a thoroughly modern swan – a beautiful, driven businesswoman with no time for him!Yet Ethan seems equally determined to ruffle her perfectly groomed feathers and show her what she’s been missing out on – it’s time to let go and live for the future!
Praise for Nina Harrington
‘I look forward to reading this author’s next release … and her next … and her next. It truly is a stunning debut, with characters that will remain in your thoughts long after you have closed the book.’
—pinkheartsocietyreviews.blogspot.com on
Always the Bridesmaid
‘Rich with emotion, and pairing two truly special characters, this beautiful story is simply unforgettable. A keeper.’
—RT Book Reviews on
Hired: Sassy Assistant
‘A well-constructed plot and a scrumptious, larger-than-life hero combined with generous amounts of humour and pathos make for an excellent read.’
—RT Book Reviews on Tipping the Waitress with Diamonds
About Nina Harrington
NINA HARRINGTON grew up in rural Northumberland, England, and decided at the age of eleven that she was going to be a librarian—because then she could read all of the books in the public library whenever she wanted! Since then she has been a shop assistant, community pharmacist, technical writer, university lecturer, volcano walker and industrial scientist, before taking a career break to realise her dream of being a fiction writer. When she is not creating stories which make her readers smile, her hobbies are cooking, eating, enjoying good wine—and talking, for which she has had specialist training.
Also by Nina Harrington
Her Moment in the Spotlight
The Last Summer of Being Single
Tipping the Waitress with Diamonds
Hired: Sassy Assistant
Always the Bridesmaid
Did you know these are also available as eBooks? Visit www.millsandboon.co.uk
The Boy is Back in Town
Nina Harrington
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
CHAPTER ONE
MARIGOLD CHANCE scrolled through the images on her digital camera with her thumb, and cringed. Of all the crimes against photography she had ever committed for her sister Rosa, of which there had been many, the past few hours had been a low point.
Mari might be forgiven for the portrait of the dry cleaner’s miniature dachshund in a cute beaded princess sweater, or even the popcorn-puff hooded jacket Rosa had made for the hairdresser’s Pekinese. But persuading the newsagent’s fox terrier to pose with a knitted plaid waterproof raincoat with the name ‘Lola’ in gold chain stitch on the back was the last straw.
Her sister Rosa had a lot to answer for.
‘Oh, you are such a genius.’ Rosa grabbed the sleeve of Mari’s coat and squealed so loudly that two elderly ladies in the street looked across in alarm. Mari gave them a smile and a small wave with the hand that was not firmly in the fierce grip of her sister, the budding internet entrepreneur, who was wrestling to see the back of the camera.
‘Lola looks amazing. You see? I knew it would be useful to have an IT expert in the family one day. You told me how important it was to have great visuals on the website you made for me and now I have. It was hard work but so worth it.’
Mari snorted in reply and lifted the camera out of her sister’s reach. ‘You spent most of the time lying on the floor playing with the puppy and feeding her treats. I was the one doing the hard work.’
Rosa waggled her fingers at her dismissively. ‘What can I say? Some of us are blessed with the creative touch. Animal models are hard to find in the world of Swanhaven pet fashion and Lola wasn’t too keen on posing for more than a few seconds. I think bribery is acceptable in the circumstances. After all, it’s not often my big sister has a chance to be a fashion photographer for the day. The least I could do was sacrifice my dignity in the name of your future career. You might need that extra line on your résumé one day soon.’
Mari sighed and gave her head a quick shake. ‘I should never have told you that my department is laying off technical staff. I’m fine. Seriously. There are lots of hardware engineers who want to take the package and do other things with their lives, but not me. I love what I’m doing and don’t plan to change any time soon.’
‘Um … fine. Right. Is that why you were looking for IT jobs around Swanhaven on the internet this morning?’
‘Hey!’ Mari play poked Rosa in the arm. ‘Were you spying on me, young lady? I can see behind that sweet innocent face, you know.’ Mari paused for a moment and decided to give Rosa a half version of the truth. ‘I wanted to compare the freelance rates in Dorset compared to California, that’s all,’ she replied with a smile and shrug. ‘Things have certainly changed a lot in the years since I last lived here. Apparently there’s Wi-Fi in the yacht club. Could this really be possible?’
And the moment the words had left her mouth, Mari instantly felt guilty about not telling her only sister the full truth. But she couldn’t reveal her secret just yet, no matter how much she was looking forward to seeing the look on Rosa’s face when she broke the news that she was buying back their childhood home. Rosa had been inconsolable when their little family of women had been evicted from the home where they’d once been so happy, and Mari knew how much she’d wanted to live there again.
But she couldn’t even hint that the house could be theirs until she was certain that everything was in place.
Rosa was sensitive enough to pick up that Mari was worried about her job security and with good reason. Mari Chance had been the provider in this family since the age of sixteen, when their father had left and their mother floundered in grief and despair.
It had been Mari’s decision to sacrifice her dreams of university so that she could leave school as soon as she could to work for a local business and become the breadwinner for Rosa and their mother. And she felt even more responsible now that Rosa was on her own and she had a high-flying job with a salary to make sure that Rosa was taken care of. Even if it did mean that they were apart—her sister had to come first before anything that Mari wanted in her own life.
Rosa was the only person in Mari’s life who she truly trusted but this was one time when she wasn’t ready to open up and share her fears and dreams for the future. She had worked too hard to give Rosa hope, only to see it replaced with bitter disappointment.
Luckily her sister was distracted by a lovely spaniel who dared to be out in the cold air without one of her knitted coats and, spotting a potential customer, Rosa pulled Mari closer and whispered, ‘See you back at the cottage. I’m on a mission. Bye for now. Oh—and thanks again for the photographs. I knew I could rely on you. We’ll talk more later.’ And with that, she released Mari all in a rush and scampered off in the direction of the spaniel, her hand already in her pocket looking for dog treats.
‘You’re welcome, sweetie,’ Mari replied in a low whisper nobody was going to hear as she watched Rosa laugh and smile with the spaniel’s lady owner. ‘You know you can always rely on me.’
Marigold Chance was never the girl called for sports teams or talent contests. She’d left that to her brilliant older brother Kit and her little sister Rosa. Both extroverts to the core. No, Mari was the person who’d stayed in the background and made the teas and watched the other people having fun. Usually at events she had organised and made happen. Every family needed a Mari to keep things working behind the scenes to make sure that everyone was safe and well and had what they needed. No matter how great the personal cost.
Especially in times of crisis when the whole world fell apart.
Mari shrugged off a shiver of sad memories, turned the corner and started down the narrow cobbled street towards the harbour, and was rewarded by the sight she never grew tired of—Swanhaven bay stretched out in front of her.
The sea was a wide expanse of dove-grey, flecked by bright white foam as the waves picked up in the icy wind. A bright smile warmed Mari’s face despite the cold. Swanhaven harbour had been built of granite blocks designed to protect the fishing fleet from the harsh English Channel. Now the long wide arms held more pleasure craft than local fishermen, but it was still a safe harbour and delightful marina which attracted visitors all year round, even on a cold February afternoon.
But that was not where she wanted to go before the early winter darkness fell. There was somewhere very special she wanted to visit now she was free for the rest of the day. The one place that meant more to her and Rosa than anywhere else in the world. She could hardly wait to see her old home again. Snow or no snow. Nothing was going to stop her now. Nothing at all.
‘Well, you know what your father’s like. Once he gets an idea in his head, nothing is going to stop him.’ His mother chuckled down Ethan Chandler’s cellphone, her voice faint and in snatches as it was carried away in the blustery wind. ‘He’s out by the pool at the moment and quite determined to experiment with all of the fancy extras on his new barbecue, even if we are in the middle of a mini heatwave. Which reminds me. How is the weather in Swanhaven at the moment?’
Ethan Chandler took a firm grip with his other hand on the tiller of the small sailing boat he had hired from the Swanhaven sailing school and let the fresh wind carry the light boat out from his private jetty into deeper water before answering. A spray of icy sea water crashed over the side of the boat and he moved the phone closer towards his mouth and under the shelter of his jacket.
‘You’ll be delighted to know that at the moment it is grey, wet and windy. And cold. Cold by Florida standards at least. You’re going to freeze next week.’
Her reply was a small sigh. ‘I did wonder. I remember only too well what February can be like. But don’t you worry. Your father and I wouldn’t miss seeing our new holiday home for anything. We are so proud of you, Ethan.’
Ethan inhaled a slow calming breath. Proud? Proud was the last thing his parents should be.
Far from it.
Apart from a couple of one-to-one sailing classes he had run as a personal favour to his old mentor at the Swanhaven Yacht Club, he had made it his business to keep out of sight and hide away at the house. The work that needed to be done was an excellent excuse for not socialising in the town but, the truth was, in a small town like Swanhaven, people had long memories. Ten years was nothing, and Kit Chance still had a lot of family in the area and the weight of the accident which killed Kit had become heavier and heavier the longer he stayed here.
Proud? No. The minute his parents were settled, he would be on the first flight back to Florida.
Luckily his mother did not give him a chance to reply. ‘And how are you managing at the house on your own?’
Ethan turned his head back towards the shore and enjoyed a half smile at the sight of the stunning one-storey home which hugged the wooded hillside on one side and the wide curve of the inlet on the other. Now that was something he could be proud of.
It was a superb location. Quiet, private and secluded but only ten minutes drive to Swanhaven, which lay around the headland in the next bay, and even faster by boat. Perfect.
‘Everything’s fine. I’m just heading out now to Swanhaven to pick up some groceries. But don’t worry, Mum. The team have done a great job and it will all be ready for next weekend.’ I hope.
‘That’s wonderful, darling. You’ve been so secretive these past few months; I can hardly wait to see what you’ve done with the place. And don’t you worry about your father. I know he was reluctant at first to let you manage the project, but you know how hard it is for him to hand over control of anything to anybody. He’s so pleased that you agreed to finish off the work for us. We both are. Who knows? With a bit of luck your father might actually start slowing down and think about retirement one day soon.’
Ethan fought down a positive reply but the words stuck in his throat.
It had taken a few years before his parents understood that their only son had no interest in becoming the fourth generation architect in Chandler and Chandler, Architects. Ethan had no intention of spending his life in an air-conditioned office looking out on the ocean when he could be on the waves himself, pushing himself harder and harder. He felt sorry to let them down but they eventually accepted the fact that he had his own life to lead and they had supported him as best they could.
The least he could do was come over to Swanhaven and finish off their retirement home for them. It was ironic that his mother had chosen to come back to Swanhaven of all places, but she had grown up in the area and they had some happy memories of the summers they spent here before the accident which changed all of their lives. His most of all.
They had talked about Swanhaven many times and he knew that, although his mother loved this bay, they had chosen not to come back here because of the accident and how he felt about it.
But now they were ready to move on and this house was a symbol of that.
And if they could cope with having a holiday home here, then he would have to learn to live with that. It was the moving part that he had a problem with. But that was his problem, not theirs, and there was no way he was going to spoil his mother’s delight in her new house.
‘Good luck with that one, Mum. If anyone can do it, you can.’
‘Well, thank you for that vote of confidence. Oh, I’m now being called to ogle some gizmo or gadget. Keep safe, darling. And see you next Saturday. Keep safe.’
Keep safe. That was what she used to say at the dockside before he set out on a dangerous sea journey. They were always her final words. Only a year ago they had been squeezed out through tears when he left for the Green Globe round-the-world race. Now he could hear warmth and an almost casual tone in her voice through the broken reception.
So much had changed. Now she was saying it before a short shopping trip across the bay to Swanhaven, not months spent alone battling the most treacherous oceans in the world where a simple mistake could cost him the boat or his life. Or both. Where he could be out of contact with the world for hours. Perhaps days.
Now she could call him from the kitchen of their lovely Florida home and know precisely where he would be for at least six months of the year. Safe and out of harm’s way. Running sailing courses at the international yacht club where troubled teenagers from all over the state could receive the help they needed to rebuild their lives.
And she was happier than he had seen her for a long time.
How could she understand that he had chosen to abandon his comfortable car in Swanhaven and come out in wild wet weather in a boat which was smaller than the one he used to have as a boy, just to feel the wind and the spray? To sense the reaction of the rudder under his hand as the tiny sail stretched out to the fullest it had probably ever seen as he angled the craft into the wind at just the perfect inclination to squeeze every drop of speed.
He knew this stretch of water like the back of his own hand. Kit had shown him where the currents lay over shallow water and the best place to turn into the wind so that they could practice how to use the sails.
Ethan smiled to himself and shifted the tiller just a little more. Just seeing this part of the bay again on his first day had brought back so many fine memories, and some sad ones. Those summers spent sailing every day with Kit Chance had been some of the happiest times of his life. And he still missed him.
Over the past year or two his mother had dropped not so subtle questions about when he planned to stop pushing himself harder and harder with each yacht race. He had always laughed it off. But she had a point. Maybe there was more to life than competitive sailing? But he had not found it yet. Teaching kids to sail for a few months a year had done nothing to lessen his need to be at the helm of a boat, on his own, testing the boundaries, running faster and faster. But it was a start.
Kit would have loved it. But he couldn’t. Because he had died in a freak accident nobody could have predicted or prevented. And Ethan had survived. The burden of that guilt still lay heavy on his shoulders. Especially in this town where Kit had grown up. So far he had managed to keep a low profile and focus on the work at hand.
Ethan shrugged the tension away from his shoulders.
He had seven days to finish the house before his parents flew into London, then he would get back to honouring Kit in the only way he knew how. By sailing to the max and teaching young people how to live their lives to the full, just as Kit had done.
With a bit of luck his parents might actually like what he had done. Especially when they found out that he had made a couple of alterations to the original plans. Instead of an extended parking area, Ethan had built a solid garage, workshop, boathouse and jetty. These were his personal gifts to his parents. And particularly his father.
Maybe, just maybe, they could find the time to sail out on their own boat together from their private jetty, like they used to, when he came back in July to make good his promise to open the Swanhaven regatta.
Now that was something worth looking forward to.
A squall of icy sleet hit Ethan straight in the face and he roared with laughter and dropped his head back in joy. That was more like it. Bring it on. Bring. It. On.
Marigold Chance thrust her hands deep inside the pockets of her thick padded down coat and braced herself against the freezing wind, which was whipping up the sand onto the path that led away from Swanhaven and out past the marina and jetty to the wild part of the Dorset shoreline.
Leaving the village behind, she walked as fast as she could to get warm, her target already in sight. A slow winding path started on the shore then rose slowly up and onto the grassy banks onto the low chalk hills which became cliffs at the other end of the bay.
Steps had been cut into the cliff face from the beach, but Mari paused and closed her eyes for a moment before she stepped forward, desperate to clear her head and try to relieve the throbbing headache which had been nagging at the back of her neck for the past twenty-four hours.
This part of the beach was made up of pebbles which had been smoothed by the relentless action of the waves back and forth to form fine powder sand in places and large cobblestones in others. It had been snowing when she arrived in Swanhaven and the air was still cold enough to keep the snow in white clumps on top of the frozen ice trapped between the stones at the top end of the beach where she was walking. The heavy winter seas carried with them pieces of driftwood and seaweed that floated in the cold waters of a shipping lane like the English Channel.
For once Mari was glad to feel the cold fresh wind buffeting her cheeks as she snuggled low inside the warm coat, a windproof hat pulled well down over her ears.
The relentless pressure of her job as a computer systems trouble-shooter was starting to get to her, but exhaustion came with the job and it was all worth it. In a few years she would be able to start her own business and work from home as an internet consultant. With modern technology, she could work from home and run an online internet advisory business from anywhere in the world, and that included Swanhaven. This small coastal town where she had spent the first eighteen years of her life was where she wanted to make a life and create a stable, long-standing home, safe and warm, for herself and Rosa. A home nobody could take away from her. From either of them.
Mari inhaled slowly to calm her breathing and focused on the sound of the seagulls calling above her head, dogs barking on the shore and the relentless beat of the waves.
She could still hear the flap of the pennants on the boats in the marina and the musical sound of the wind in the rigging of the sailing boats.
This was the soundtrack of her early life, which had stayed with her no matter where she might be living and working. Here she could escape the relentless cacophony of cars, aircraft engines, noisy air conditioning and frantic telephone calls in the middle of the night from IT departments whose servers had crashed. In her shoulder bag there were three smartphones and two mobile phones. But right now, for one whole precious hour, she had turned everything off.
And it was bliss. Her breathing tuned into the rhythm of the ebb and flow of the waves on the shore and for a fraction of a second she felt as though she was a girl again and she had never left Swanhaven.
Sailing and the sea had formed a fundamental part of her childhood. She loved the sea with a passion. She knew how cruel it could be, but there was no finer place in the world. And Kit would understand that.
Turning her back to the wind, Mari slipped the glove from her left hand and reached into the laptop bag she carried everywhere. Her fingers touched a precious photograph and she carefully drew it out of the bag, holding tightly so that it would not be snatched away in the gusty wind. It was only right that she should look at this photograph here of all places, even though it had been around the world with her more than once. Not like Kit’s best friend Ethan Chandler, on the deck of some horrendously expensive racing yacht, battling the ocean for his very life, but inside a bag which went into the cabins of aircraft and hotel rooms and even restaurants and offices and computer server rooms.
The smiling face of her mother looked back at her from the photograph. She was a tall, slim, pretty woman with freckled skin illuminated by the sunlight reflected back from the water in the sunny harbour of Swanhaven. One of her arms was draped around Rosa’s shoulders. Rosa must have been about fourteen then and so full of life and fun and energy. Her baby sister was always ready to smile into the camera without a hint of embarrassment or hesitation. But this time Rosa and her mother had something to laugh about—because they were watching Kit playing the fool. As always. Seventeen years old and full of mischief, Kit was their hero, full of life and energy and funny, handsome and charming—everyone loved him, and he was indulged and spoiled. Kit would not sit still for a moment, always jumping about, always wanting to be in the action, especially when it came to the water and sailing.
Mari remembered the day she’d taken the photograph so well. It was the Easter holiday and the sailing club had been open for a training day. Of course Kit was the instructor, yet again, but he was not content to simply smile for his younger sister, but had to leap forward onto one knee and wave jazz hands at her, which, of course, made Rosa and her mother laugh even louder. This was her happy family she loved, so natural and so unrehearsed. Just a typical shot of a mum having fun with her three kids on a trip to the marina.
Looking at the image now, she could almost feel the sun on her face and the wind in her hair on that April morning when she’d captured the precious moment in time when they’d all been so happy together. It was hard to believe that she had taken the photograph only a few months before the yacht race in the annual Swanhaven Sailing Regatta when they lost Kit in a freak accident and the thin fabric of safe, loving little family was ripped apart.
He had been the golden boy. The much-loved only son.
Oh, Kit. She missed him so much, like a physical ache that never truly went away, but somehow over the years she had learned to push it to the back of her mind so that she could survive every day, though the pain of the loss was still there. Coming back to Swanhaven, and seeing the boats in the marina and young people finding such joy in the water, brought back all of those happy memories so vividly.
They had been such good times with her family all around her.
Mari ran her fingertip down her mother’s face on the photograph, just as the wind picked up and almost whipped it away, and she popped it back into her bag, made sure that it was safe and pulled on her gloves as quickly as she could.
Perhaps she was not as ready to see her old home as she thought she was? It had been her mother’s dream that one day she should be able to buy back the home she had loved so very much, but she’d died before Mari could help to make that dream come true. And it broke Mari’s heart to think that she had let her down when they had come so close to making it a reality.
But she still had Rosa to take care of, so she drove herself to work harder and longer to help her sister, no matter what the cost to her own dreams of running her own business.
Turning away from the cliff, Mari faced the wild buffeting wind from the sea and skipped down the path back onto the shore, walking faster and faster along the rough large boulders, sliding on the wet surface, squelching against kelp seaweed, until she was at the end of the jetty and in front of her was the curving bay and the rising cliffs of chalk towering above in the distance.
She took a couple of steps further along the beach and there it was, the low dip in the cliff made by a small river and the sloping grassy bank and the winding path from the shore which led to the cottages where they used to live. Bracing herself, Mari lifted her head, back to the wind, and looked up towards the houses she could see quite clearly now. At this distance, the aged and weathered old roofs blocked the view of the actual house itself, but she could see a large placard from the local estate agent announcing that the house was soon to be sold by auction and the contact details. She had talked to the elderly couple who owned it a few times, but they had not been interested in selling. Until now, when a broken hip had forced them to move into the village.
Tears pricked her eyes and she wiped them away with the finger of her glove. Cold wind and regret assaulted her eyes. But her mouth sheltered a secret smile.
It had taken years of working nights, weekends and public holidays for the extra salary she needed to build up savings but she had finally done it this week after her bonus for working over the whole Christmas and New Year holiday had been paid. It was hard to believe that she finally had enough for the deposit she needed to buy back the house their father had built brick by brick. This was probably the only chance she would have to make this house a home again for herself and her sister, where they could live and work side by side one day.
Other people had social lives. Lovely homes and designer clothing. Even boyfriends. Instead, Mari Chance had become the ‘go to’ single girl who was willing to work when her colleagues spent precious holiday time with their families. Promotion after promotion had meant travelling to some far-flung parts of the world at a moment’s notice. But she did it. And most of the time she loved her work. Loved the idea that she could arrive at a business office where the staff were panicking and walk out with the IT system working perfectly. That was deeply satisfying. Besides, she did not have any personal commitments, not even a pet. But all that travel came with a price.
The crushing loneliness.
And now the one thing she had been dreaming about for the last three years was finally going to happen—it was so close, she could almost feel it. Everything was ready. She had the funds, her place at the auction had been booked, and she knew the going rate for the property from recent sales figures.
This was the house she had been born in. The house she had loved and been so happy in, and now she could make the offer—in cash and above the expected price with a loan facility already agreed at the bank, if the price was higher than she had budgeted for.
She had to have this house.
She had to.
This was where her travelling and relentless activity and exhausting work was finally going to come to an end. This was where she was going to spend the rest of her life. Building a routine with Rosa in the place where she had grown up with extended family all around her. She was ready to come home to Swanhaven.
At that moment an icy blast ran up inside Mari’s coat and a deep shiver crossed her shoulders and down her back, making her stamp her feet and clap her hands together to restore some circulation. Time to get back to hot tea and toasted crumpets—Rosa’s favourites. She could come back and see the house any time she wanted—but perhaps not today.
Indulging in a brief smile and a final lingering look, Mari turned back into the wind as she strolled back towards the marina and the stone terraced cottage Rosa had made her own. Instantly Mari’s eyes were drawn to a small sailing boat which was coming towards the jetty from the west. It was the only boat on the sea and was too small to have crossed the Channel so it could not have come very far.
For a moment Mari wondered who was brave enough, or foolish enough, to be sailing in open waters on a day like this. Icy blustery wind and grey skies did not equate in her mind to a pleasant sailing experience. She continued walking, her head angled down against the wind, but she could not miss the small craft as it came closer and closer towards the shore and the safety of a berth in the sheltered marina. She walked swiftly to try and get warm but, even with her fast pace the stiff wind in the small white sail sped the light craft faster than she could walk.
It was coming in too fast. Much too fast. The closer she got to the marina, the faster the boat came towards her. He had not even lowered the sail and, oh, no, the crosswind was gusting now across the entrance to the marina. There was no way this boat could stop itself from being smashed against the jetty or the stone breakwater of the marina.
No! She had to do something. Shout. Call for help.
Mari looked frantically around—but there was nobody close enough to hear her call and the wind would snatch away any chance of being heard in the town.
The cellphone was useless—the lifeboat would never come out in time. There were only seconds to spare before the boat collided with the dock.
She started jogging, running for the shore, waving her arms above her head, trying frantically to attract the attention of the sailor, who seemed to be totally oblivious to the danger he was in. Mari was shouting now, over and over, ‘Watch out, watch out,’ but the words were flung back into her face by the bitterly cold winds which attacked her cheeks and eyes so that she could hardly see with the tears of winter blurring her vision. Her hat was long gone, blown away in the wind.
Her heart was beating so fast that she thought she was going to pass out. Heaving lungfuls of cold air tipped with icy sleet, she reached the edge of the water and had to bend over at the waist, a hand on each knee, not daring to watch as the small boat was tossed violently from side to side like a plastic bath toy.
She knew exactly what was going to happen next and the horror of what was to come filled her mind. She could not watch.
Her face screwed up in pain, ready for the terrible sound of the hull smashing against the jetty, her hands ready to press against her ears to block out the horror and the cries of anguish from the lone sailor. Eyes closed, she knew what was coming and yet felt so powerless to prevent it that the horror of the moment washed over her with a cold shiver which ran across her shoulders and down her back.
She waited and the seconds seemed to stretch into minutes.
And then the minutes grew longer. And all she could hear was the smashing of the waves on the shore and the screeching of the herring gulls as they swooped down into the harbour in the wind.
Slowly, slowly, hardly daring to look, Mari lifted her head and pushed herself to a standing position.
Just in time to see a tall sailor step off his boat onto the jetty, coil the rope around a bollard on the pontoon one-handed and use his other hand to rake his fingers from his forehead back through his hair as if the wind had made a nuisance of itself by messing up his hairstyle.
The sail was down and neatly wrapped, the boat was perfectly aligned in a berth in calm waters and the sailor looked so composed he might have just stepped from a cruise ship on a lazy summer afternoon.
Stunned and totally bewildered, Mari could only watch in amazed silence as the man double-checked the rope, glanced at his watch and then turned around to stroll casually away from her down the walkway which led back to the town. And just for a second she saw his face for the first time.
Her heart missed a beat.
Ethan Chandler was back in town.
CHAPTER TWO
MARI lifted her head so she could look at Ethan again, just to make sure that she was not mistaken, except this time with her mouth half open in shock.
But of course it was him. Nobody else came even close to Ethan in looks or ability. He had sailed on his own around the world non-stop! Little wonder that he could moor a small boat on a floating pontoon in an English winter.
Ethan … She was looking at Ethan Chandler.
A bolt of energy hit her hard in the stomach and punched the air from her lungs. The blast was so physical that Mari clutched hold of the edge of the stone wall of the marina with both hands to stop herself from sliding onto her knees. Frozen with shock.
She could not believe this was happening. It had to be some sort of crazy nightmare brought on by lack of sleep and far too much caffeine and wine last night over dinner with Rosa.
There was nothing else to explain it.
The man-boy she had last seen ten years ago looking back at her from the backseat of his father’s car as they drove out of Swanhaven, leaving her behind, clinging to the wreckage of her life, was blocking her way back into town. Mari sucked in oxygen to feed her racing brain and the frantic pulsing of blood.
This must be what it felt like to have a heart attack.
The last person on the planet she had expected to see again was dressed in chinos and a pale blue shirt, under a luxurious all-weather jacket the colour of the smoothest latte.
Ethan Chandler. International Yachtsman of the Year. The boy whose family had rented the house next to her home each summer holiday and in the process became part of Swanhaven and the star of the sailing club for a few weeks and her home town’s only true claim for a celebrity. The village shop even sold bottles of the delectable designer aftershave he’d promoted a few years earlier.
The stylist who had chosen his shirt had done an excellent job and that particular shade of blue was a perfect match for the colour of his eyes, even in the grey February light which took the edge off a suntan cultivated under the Florida sunshine.
At the age of seventeen Ethan Chandler had been the best-looking boy in town. A natural athlete and champion yachtsman destined for greatness. Ethan at twenty-eight was a revelation. Of course she had seen his photo on TV and on the cover of magazines, clean and polished and with all of his rough edges smoothed out to create the perfect image. Male-model handsome, rugged and broad-shouldered.
But there was a world of difference between seeing Ethan standing behind the wheel of an ocean-going yacht, or modelling board shorts on the cover of a sailing magazine, and having the man himself standing so close that she could see the stubble on his cheek on the side of his face.
Ethan had always had that cocky and easy confidence in his own charm—but this was taking it to a completely new level. Six feet of broad-shouldered, tousle-haired hunk could do that to a girl.
The blood rushing to her cheeks and neck was so embarrassing. And Marigold Chance did not blush. Ever.
And then, almost as if he knew that someone was watching him, Ethan stopped walking, paused, and started to turn around to look in her direction.
Instantly, without thinking about what she was doing or hesitating more than a split second, Mari pulled the hood of her coat high over her head and whirled on one heel so quickly that she was walking back the way she had come along the beach path before her hands were back by her sides, punching the air with each step.
Determined to get as far away from Ethan Chandler as possible.
Grains of sand flew up beneath her feet as she strode forward, too terrified to look back just in case Ethan had recognised the crazy woman power walking along the beach. Her head was spinning with a confusion of thoughts and feelings. Some deep part of her was secretly hoping that he had seen her, and he was even now running to catch up with her, ready to calm her nerves and tell her that he’d never meant to hurt her feelings all those years ago when they had kissed and he had walked away without a single word of goodbye.
But that would mean that he had cared about her back then. And still did. This was impossible.
No. Ethan was always destined to be her brother’s unobtainable best friend and the boy who’d survived the accident when Kit had not.
Her feet slowed but her heart was pounding inside her chest and she felt the blood flare in her face despite the icy-cold wind from the sea. A few more steps and she would be around the corner of the bay and out of sight from Swanhaven marina. And Ethan would not be able to see her tears.
Mari’s left hand pressed against the damp cliff wall.
After all these years, she had fooled herself into thinking that she had finally come to terms with Kit’s death.
Idiot.
All it took was one sight of Ethan—not even a word—just seeing him again, and she was right back to being sixteen again and those terrible few months after the accident when all she wanted to do was be alone. Grieving, scared, frozen and numb and so very alone. Trapped inside her thoughts, withdrawn and traumatised.
Only one person had been able to challenge her enough to break through the prison doors of her anguish and that person was Ethan. He had done something no one had ever done. He had kept challenging, kept on asking her forgiveness, kept on forcing her to engage with him, until her self-imposed barriers had finally broken down. And for one hour of one day she had clung to Ethan like a drowning girl with every single emotion raw and open and exposed for him to see. This was the boy who had made her brother go out in a race he was not ready for. This was the boy who had teased her and ridiculed her every summer holiday. This was the boy she had secretly had a crush on, but said nothing. Because he was so perfect, so admirable and so very, very unobtainable.
And in that moment when she had been most vulnerable, he had kissed her. And she had kissed him back. And she might have been sixteen, and this was her first kiss, but she knew that he meant it.
And it had destroyed her.
The guilt of kissing and wanting Ethan after he had brought about her family’s ruin had been too much for her to bear. She had felt so weak and angry and disgusted with herself.
When he’d left town the following day, without even saying goodbye, she knew that she had deluded herself into thinking that Ethan could ever care about her. She wasn’t even worth taking the time to speak to.
Mari closed her eyes and took a couple of long breaths. She was twenty-six years old, a trained IT professional and an adult who was used to handling computer crises. Ethan was probably only passing through with his parents. She could cope with seeing him again over the next few days before she went back to work. It was all going to be fine. Just fine.
Only at the exact same moment she allowed herself to breathe normally, there was the sound of footsteps on the cobblestones and sand and, as she turned her head sideways, Ethan Chandler jogged around the corner.
He tried to slide to a halt on the uneven path, arms flailing at the same time as Mari pushed herself back against the wall.
So the only thing he had to grab hold of to stop himself from falling … was her.
Seconds later, Mari’s brain connected to the fact that Ethan Chandler was holding her by both arms, pressing her against his jacket, and she looked up into the blue eyes of the boy who had broken her heart. Words were impossible. Mari inhaled a heady mix of aromatic spices, leather and freshly laundered linen as her own hand moved instinctively to press against the soft fabric and feel the warmth of the man beneath.
‘Hello, Mari. Are you okay there? I wondered if it was you.’ Ethan flicked his head back towards the shore. ‘I only caught a glimpse so I couldn’t be sure but … wow … I had no idea you were back in town. I … er …’ he broke off as their eyes locked; it was only for a second but she knew that he had recognised the total confusion and disbelief and anger that was whirling around inside her head at seeing him again ‘… wasn’t expecting to see you.’
His iron grip relaxed on the sleeve of her jacket and she almost fell back onto the rocks.
‘Ethan,’ she whispered, her voice hoarse and pathetic, ‘I didn’t know that you were around.’
She swallowed down an ocean of nerves into a bone-dry throat, looking for something to say to break the silence. ‘That was quite a performance. I thought you were in trouble out there,’ and she gestured to the waves breaking over the harbour wall.
‘Trouble?’ He coughed nervously and stepped back. ‘No, I wasn’t in trouble. I suppose it is a bit blowy.’
Mari blinked a few times and shook her head in disbelief.
‘Blowy? Right. I hope you know that you scared the living daylights out of me just now. How do you do it? How do you get into that boat and go out on the water in weather like this? I simply don’t understand it.’
His reply was a twitch at the side of his mouth which told her more than a lengthy answer. Oh, yes. She had been right. The boy who had become the man was still as annoyingly arrogant and self-confident that it shone out of him like a beacon to all those around him who were still trying to find their way in the dark. And straight away she was back to being the plump, geeky girl who was the constant target of his incessant teasing.
It was so aggravating she could scream.
She was different now. She could handle this man who had become a star. They had both been so young the last time they spoke—teenagers trying to find their place in the world.
So how was it that the last time she had felt like strangling someone as badly as she did now, her client had just uploaded a virus onto the brand-new server she had just installed?
Ethan took it to the next level.
Grinding her teeth together in frustration, Mari pressed her fingers into her palms and slowly closed her eyes, then opened them while her blood pressure calmed.
‘I’ve got used to bad weather over the past few years, and Swanhaven bay is positively calm compared to the seas in the Southern Ocean. But I’m sorry if I scared you.’
And with all of the extra confidence and self-assurance that ten years of a life spent in the spotlight and hero worship could bring, Ethan took one step closer and casually slid his left hand up and down the sleeve of her padded coat. ‘Are you okay now?’
And it annoyed her so much that it sucked any chance of logical thought out of her mind, rendering her speechless. A blinking, wide-eyed creature. Just as she had been all those years ago when she’d hero-worshipped him from afar and he’d ignored her for most of the time and teased her the rest.
‘You’ve changed your hair,’ Ethan said softly, his sea-blue eyes focused on her face. He grinned the kind of white smile that would make toothpaste companies queue up to arrange sponsorship deals. ‘Looks great.’
Yes, this makes my day, she thought, and found something interesting to look at on her gloves. How dare he look even better with a few years on him? When she felt positively shop-worn and decrepit? And her hair had been squeezed under a hat for ages and must look a total mess. For a moment she couldn’t think or move. Nor trust herself to look at him again, never mind talk to him in joined up sentences.
Why did he still have this effect on her? Why? He had always had the confidence, the natural charm of the handsome, gifted people who had sailed through life on a warm breeze. And knew it. Nothing had changed in that direction.
‘Thank you.’ Mari cleared her throat, lifted her chin a little higher and tried to ignore her pounding heart, while forcing her mouth and head to reconnect long enough to say something intelligent when they had zero in common. ‘It’s been a while.’
‘I was sorry to hear that your mother passed away. She was a remarkable woman,’ he said in a low voice. ‘I was racing solo in the Southern Ocean when it happened or I would have been there. You should know that.’
‘Of course,’ Mari said, desperate to take control, and managed a closed-mouth smile. ‘Did you know that Rosa is still in Swanhaven these days?’ She shook her head in amazement. ‘She loves being here so much. So at least one of us is still in the old town.’
Before he had a chance to answer, Mari made a point of pulling her scarf tighter so that she wouldn’t have to look into those blue eyes. She was a mature woman. She could do polite to a visiting celebrity who used to be close to her family. ‘What brings you here on a Friday morning in February? I thought you lived in Florida.’
‘I do, but for some reason my mother has decided that she wants to retire back home in Swanhaven. So I’ve been building them a retirement place in the next bay,’ Ethan said with the husky tone in his voice that made her very glad that she was leaning against the jetty because her knees had suddenly decided to take on the consistency of blobs of jelly. ‘Dad and I designed it together but I’m here to finish the house before they move in next week.’
He was going to stay in Swanhaven for a whole week? No, no, no. How could this be happening?
Mari whipped back towards him, blinking in astonishment, and managed to link enough words together to create a sentence. ‘Are you moving back here with them full-time?’
Then he smiled with his own unique, closed lips, one-side-of-his-mouth special smile. ‘That would be a no. I have a life back in Florida, thanks all the same. But I’ll be around for a few weeks. Things to do. Some business to take care of. Then there is the Sailing Club.’
She swallowed hard and tried to come up with something to say but was saved when the icy wind sent another shiver across her shoulders.
‘Well, good luck with that. But right now I’m freezing and I promised Rosa that I wouldn’t be out long. It was nice seeing you again, Ethan. Maybe we can catch up another time?’
When Swanhaven harbour freezes over.
He turned away and started strolling away from her towards the cliff path which led towards her old home and smiled back at her over one shoulder, one eyebrow raised as he gestured towards the path.
‘Looks like I just got lucky. If you’re heading home I’d love to catch up with Rosa again. With a bit of luck she might find me a dry crust or two to nibble on, since I’m starving. Would that be okay?’
And then he started up the cliff path, away from Swanhaven, and straight for her former home. The home which was now up for sale. The home she was going to buy back.
He carried on walking and it took a second for her brain to process what he was doing.
He didn’t know. Ethan had no clue that they had lost their home when her father left the family. But she was not going to tell him the whole bitter saga. He would soon find out for himself if he stayed around—and preferably when she had gone back to work. Rosa would tell him.
Oh, Ethan. There have been a lot of changes since the last time we spoke.
Instinctively Mari took one step forward, then stopped and called out in a loud voice, ‘Sorry, Ethan, you’re going the wrong way. Rosa lives in the town these days. And I hear the harbour café does a great range of snacks.’
He stopped and turned back to face her, the wind ruffling his hair into a set designer’s dream of rugged and his eyebrows came together in a puzzled look. ‘You sold the house? I thought your mother loved that place?’
Her breath caught in her throat as it tightened in pain. Get it over with, she told herself. Just tell him and you won’t have to explain yourself again.
She looked up at Ethan, who was standing, tall and proud and so bursting with life and vitality and all she could think about was that Kit should be standing there. Her lovely, wild, adventurous brother who loved to break the rules. She had lived her early life in Kit’s shadow, but she would have given anything to see him smiling back at her at that moment. Alive and well and so full of energy and potential.
Instead of which, she saw Ethan Chandler. Kit’s best friend. The boy who was sailing the boat on the morning Kit went over the side and died. And it broke her heart. Worse. It broke through the veneer of suppressed anger which she had kept hidden.
‘Yes, she did. Don’t you know? We lost the house when my dad had his breakdown and his building firm closed down owing thousands of pounds. We haven’t lived there since the summer you left. The summer Kit died. The summer we lost everything. Goodbye for now, Ethan. See you later.’
And she turned away from this god-handsome man who she had idolised as a girl and walked as fast as she could in the biting wind, back to Swanhaven and the world she had created for herself when everything around her was crumbled and destroyed.
CHAPTER THREE
‘HOW about this one?’ Mari asked as she tapped Rosa on the arm, then pointed at the laptop screen. ‘“Looking for a grumpy old man to nag? Try Hire a Haggard. Smart men aged sixty-plus. Guaranteed to last a good couple of hours if fed and watered. Dancing and friskiness at your own risk.”’
Rosa put down her knitting and peered at the head and shoulders photos of older men displayed on the screen. Her face lit up with a stunned grin. ‘That. Is totally perfect. I hadn’t thought about renting a wrinkly. We can tell Aunt Alice that we’ve organised a male escort for the evening. She’ll be thrilled! And at seventy-nine a man of sixty-plus has to count as a toy boy. Valentine or no Valentine.’
Mari grinned back and winked. ‘I live to serve. A toy boy! I like the sound of that. Although the idea of a male escort might come as a bit of a shock to the more snooty members of the Swanhaven Yacht Club.’
‘They’ll survive,’ Rosa sniffed. ‘Besides, we only have the Valentine’s Day party once a year and Aunt Alice does manage the clubhouse. It’s only right and proper that she sets a fine example to the younger generation with a dapper date. Especially when my big sister has flown all the way back to Dorset especially for the big day. This calls for posh frocks. Shoes. Bags. Plastic baubles. The full works.’
She rubbed her hands together in delight, then looked hard at Mari over the top of her spectacles. ‘Unless of course you have a love slave hidden in the attic of your tiny flat, but there hasn’t been much evidence of that lately. Has there?’
‘Guilty as charged,’ Mari replied as she shut down her laptop, ‘but I have been a tad busy. As well you know.’
There was a snort before her sister answered. ‘Work, work. Travel, travel. What a pitiful excuse. Anyone would think that you actually preferred living in California to coming home to Swanhaven now and again.’
Mari stared back at her open-mouthed, then tutted several times before answering her baby sister. ‘Perish the thought. Why do you think I booked time out for the Valentine party this weekend?’ She smiled warmly before going on but her mouth closed slightly as she murmured in a lower voice, ‘I do feel guilty about leaving you here on your own to clear Mum’s things after the funeral. Thank you again for helping me out this last year. It hasn’t been easy.’
Rosa reached across and squeezed Mari’s hand before unfolding herself from her old squishy sofa and walking the few steps across to the picture window of her terraced cottage and the view down the cobbled lane towards Swanhaven harbour.
‘Aunt Alice has been making an effort to persuade me to spend more time with her at the club but things haven’t been the same, have they?’
Mari shuffled off the sofa and came to stare out of the window, her arm wrapped around her sister’s shoulders. ‘No,’ she whispered. ‘Not the same at all.’ And they stood in silence, both gazing down towards the sea and the cliff path.
Directly across the lane was the parallel row of white-painted two-storey terraced houses which stretched down from the church and small primary school to the harbour and the yacht club, which served as the village meeting place. This was the temporary house which she had moved into with Rosa and their mother when they had to sell the home they adored. And here they still were, stuck.
‘Do you know, it’s almost ten years since we moved here? I still feel that I let her down, you know. About the house.’
Rosa turned and shook her head. ‘That’s ridiculous. Don’t do that to yourself. She was so proud of your success and how hard you were working to make it happen. I have no doubt about that whatsoever and I was here with her every day. You did the right thing.’
‘But I promised her, Rosa. I promised her that I would do whatever it took to get the house back for us. And she never lived to see that happen. And now our old house is finally up for sale when she’s not here to enjoy it.’
‘I know. But we tried. We really tried.’ Pain flashed across Rosa’s lovely face for a split second before she beamed across at Mari. ‘Of course there is one small news item that I have been keeping from you all day and the suspense is killing me. I can’t hold it in a minute longer.’
There was a groan and Mari’s shoulders dropped petulantly. ‘Please, not another walk around the harbour looking for dogs without coats so you can sell your wares,’ she whimpered. ‘It’s freezing out there! Jet lag. That’s it. I still have jet lag.’
‘Protest all you like, but I am determined to show off my talented computer guru of a sister to all and sundry.’ Rosa moved closer to Mari. ‘As far as this town goes, you are officially one of the local celebrities who have actually made good in the outside world.’
‘Me? A celebrity?’ Mari clutched the back of the nearest chair and pretended to faint at the idea. ‘I mend company servers and design tailor-made software systems, and design websites in my spare time,’ she finally managed to squeak. ‘That does not make me a celebrity. Believe me, the company head office is in California and the celebrity culture is alive and well.’
‘What can I say? Standards here have slipped. But not for much longer. Because there is something I have to tell you.’ A cunning smirk lifted one side of Rosa’s mouth and she waggled her eyebrows a couple of times before taking a breath and speaking so fast that her words all ran together. ‘Ethan Chandler is back in town and I really wanted you to meet him on your own at the harbour but you haven’t and he is probably going to be at the club tonight so you should know about it before you get there.’
She sucked in a deep breath, chest heaving. ‘There. I’m glad I finally got that out. It’s been a nightmare keeping Ethan a secret for these past few days but I was so sure that you would see him around and it would all be fine. And why are you shaking your head like that?’
Mari took hold of her sister’s shoulders and forced her to make eye contact.
‘I saw Ethan this afternoon on the way back from my walk. He was coming into harbour in a boat smaller than your bath tub and he frightened the living daylights out of me. There. Satisfied?’
She gave Rosa’s shoulders a gentle shake before dropping her hands back onto the chair. ‘What were you thinking? You should have told me.’
There was a hiss as Rosa bared her teeth. ‘I know, but you were always so intense when he was around. And when Kit died … you were so hard on him, Mari. And now, with all of this media interest … Stay there; I kept the article for you.’
Rosa dived back into the living room and rooted around in a basket overflowing with yarn, knitting paraphernalia, old newspapers and unopened mail until she finally found the magazine she was looking for.
She flicked through the pages, her eyebrows tight with concentration, and then she grinned with delight and held up the page with a thumb and forefinger at each corner and waved it from side to side in front of Mari’s face.
Splashed across two pages of the colour supplement of a national newspaper was a stunning photograph taken of a racing yacht in full sail on a choppy sea under hot blue skies. And standing at the helm was a tall imposing man, broad-shouldered, tanned, with handsome features and body language that screamed of total confidence in what he was doing. Ethan was wearing an impossibly clean white T-shirt with a designer logo on the breast, navy shorts and baseball cap. No shoes.
His tanned sinewy legs were spread for stability, his bright blue eyes focused on the sea in front of him, alert and intelligent, and his arms stretched out on the wheel. Mari scanned his left hand for a wedding ring without even realising what she was doing, but it was covered up with an article praising him for his work on a charity for disadvantaged teenagers.
‘Isn’t he dreamy?’ Rosa was almost sighing with delight and swaying from side to side.
Mari breathed out slowly, blinked several times to break out of his hypnotic gaze, then peered at the page and almost snatched it from Rosa’s hands. ‘And you forgot arrogant, bossy and the bane of my life. As far as Ethan Chandler was concerned I was the nearest geeky girl with her head in a book who he could tease and torment whenever he pleased. And then ignore the rest of the time. Oh, yes, I certainly made a big impression on Ethan.’
Then she took a closer look at the date on the newspaper. ‘Wait a minute. Ethan never lived here. He only came for the summer holidays with his parents. That hardly makes him a local.’
Rosa took the magazine back with a cough and smoothed out the page. ‘His mother came from around here, which makes it close enough. Besides, his parents are building a retirement bungalow in the next bay and Ethan is certain to visit them now and again. That makes him a local as far as we are concerned. And the really good news is that he’s back in town for a while working on his parents’ house.’
Rosa paused and tapped one finger against her chin. ‘The way I see it, it would be a very friendly gesture if someone would invite him to the Valentine’s Day party at the yacht club. Just to welcome him back to Swanhaven, you understand. I would do it myself but, seeing as you had such a special relationship … well, it does point one way. And now where are you going?’
Mari wound one of Rosa’s hand knitted scarves around her neck a couple of times before replying. ‘Down to the harbour to clear my head. I’ve started to hallucinate. For a moment I thought I heard you suggest that I ask Ethan Chandler to the Valentine party. Which is obviously ridiculous. And no. We did not have a special relationship. Okay? I don’t want to go there.’
Her fingers fumbled with the buttons on her cardigan and Rosa came over and fastened them for her. ‘That was a long time ago, Mari.’
Mari swallowed down a denial but couldn’t. ‘I know. But it doesn’t change the fact that Ethan Chandler always has to win. No matter what the risks are or who gets in his way.’
Rosa smirked in reply, then tipped two fingers to her forehead. ‘He always did make you frazzle. There are plenty of girls around here who think men like that are God’s special gift to women on earth because we deserve treats like Ethan now and then.’
‘Ethan does not make me frazzle,’ Mari chortled. ‘I am a goddess, and as a goddess my special power is that I am immune to handsome men. My problems are far more to do with the sixty-five e-mails which have come in since three this afternoon, and all of them are desperately urgent.’
She glanced back at the magazine and gave Rosa a faint smile and a gentle tap on the nose to wipe away the sadness in the room. ‘So let’s forget about Ethan and start on the really important business of planning party outfits and organising a date for Aunt Alice, shall we?’
Rosa winced and flicked a glance up at Mari. ‘Drat. Um … there is one more tiny thing. I sort of promised Ethan that I would help him decorate his parents’ house if he agreed to open the summer Sailing Regatta. And he said yes, thank you. More hot chocolate?’
Mari grabbed Rosa by the waist as she stood to go back to the jug warming on the hearth of her open fire. ‘Oh, no, you don’t. Sit. Do what your older sister tells you.’
Rosa faltered, but sat back down and looked at Mari sheepishly over the rim of her mug before shrugging a little as she replied. ‘It seemed like such a good idea at the time. He was in town ordering building materials and hanging out at the yacht club just after he arrived. We got talking and it was pretty obvious that Ethan might be brilliant at carpentry and the like but he had no clue whatsoever about colour charts or layouts. So I sort of took pity of him and traded a week’s work for two days of his time in July. His folks will be here over the summer and he’s happy to have his photo taken for the TV cameras and the whole media circus. The publicity would be amazing. Swanhaven needs celebrities like Ethan more than ever. And the sailing club needs a boost.’
Mari sat back on the arm of the sofa, stunned. ‘Rosa the interior designer? Well, this day is turning out to be full of surprises. I think I need to sit down.’
The doorbell sounded. ‘Who can that be at this time of night in this weather?’
Mari stood to clear away the cups as Rosa chatted to someone at the door, then turned at the sound of footsteps.
‘I can always make myself scarce if it’s a customer or one of your new boyfriends,’ she said, and turned to find herself staring into the chest of Ethan Chandler, who was grinning down at her.
Mari crossed her arms and glared at Ethan, stone-faced.
The sheer bulk of him seemed to fill all of the space in the cosy living room, and she had to fight the urge to step back into a corner so that she had room to breathe.
He was overwhelming in every way possible.
This was not helped by the fact that Rosa was peeking out at her from behind Ethan’s shoulder and nodding with her head towards Ethan, flapping her face with her hand and fluttering her eyelids. Oh. Yes. Apparently she had to be polite. She could do polite.
‘Hello, Ethan. Nice to see you again so soon. Is there anything that we can help you with?’
He bowed slightly. ‘First, I just wanted to make sure that you got home safely. And secondly, the snow is still falling and I’m on my way to the clubhouse. Thirdly, I’m here to warn you that you may be accosted by the local TV station on your way out. So, if my favourite two ladies require an escort, personal security or a lift home, I am at your service.’
He raised his head and glanced around the room, inhaling appreciatively. ‘And what is that fantastic smell? Blueberry muffins? Or cinnamon?’
Rosa groaned and rolled her eyes. ‘Two. That’s all I can spare. Blueberry and cinnamon. And I do have to get to the club early so a lift would be great.’
Ethan responded by lifting the back of Rosa’s hand to his lips. ‘I would be delighted to have your company.’
‘Oh, you are terrible.’ Rosa grinned, then looked from Ethan back to Mari, then back to Ethan again, her eyes wide. ‘Dress. Coat. I’ll be five minutes. Maybe ten.’ With a quick nod, she turned around and fled upstairs.
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