The Wedding Promise

He didn’t want to think about her, but from time to time, when he least expected it, images of her would sneak into his mind.

Two images, to be exact.

The first invariably set his pulses pounding: the fiery Mrs Wynter wearing nothing but a white cotton bra and bikini panties, her skin so smooth it just begged to be caressed.

The second...well, even now he couldn’t think of it without chuckling. She’d looked like an alien from Mars with that green face mask...but with those turquoise eyes spitting at him and those pink lips snapping at him and that glorious blonde hair scraped back in a perky ponytail she’d been something else again...

Only what that something else was he couldn’t pin down. And he didn’t even begin to try to.

The woman spelled trouble, with every letter in bold black caps!

His decision to stay away from her was one of the most sensible he’d ever made in his life.

And on this sunny afternoon, as he walked into his study, he idly congratulated himself on that very thing. Life on the island had always been simple, and he wanted to keep it that way. No complications, no entanglements.

‘Andy—’ he hitched a hip on the edge of the computer desk, where his daughter was sitting at the keyboard ‘—I thought I’d take a hike to the old swimming hole and cool off. Want to come?’

‘No, thanks, Dad.’ Andrea’s eyes were fixed on the monitor. ‘I’ve got tons of e-mail to answer. You go, though. I’ll catch you later.’

‘Fan club stuff?’

‘Mmm...’

‘OK.’ He glanced around. ‘Can’t believe we’ve been here a week, but we’ve gotten a pile of work done...though this room looks so darned bare now without all our books. The whole house looks bare, with all the knick-knacks packed away—’

‘Dad, do you mind? I’m leaving with Chrissie tomorrow morning...I’ve really got to get these letters written this afternoon.’

He pushed himself to his feet. ‘Right, I’ll be off. What are we having for dinner?’

‘Oh, it’s my turn, isn’t it?’ Finally, she looked up at him, but in an absent way, with a distracted frown tucking her brows together. ‘How about...um...a stir-fry?’

Her mother’s eyes. Large, the colour of rich dark chocolate, fringed with thick sable lashes. Just looking into them sent his thoughts spinning backwards. The ache of his loss...would it never go away? He’d always known he was a one-woman man; what he hadn’t known was the price he’d have to pay for being that way...

‘Stir-fry it is.’ He set a light hand on his daughter’s shoulder. ‘Did I ever tell you you’re a great kid? ’

‘Did I ever tell you you’re a great dad?’

Under his palm, he felt her shoulder muscles tighten. Her eyes lost their vague expression and became focused, serious. Determined.

‘We’re a team, right?’ she said.

He tried to lighten the moment. ‘Oh, sure...till some Prince Charming comes along and whisks you away on the back of his white charger—’

‘No way!’ She surged up from her chair and gave him a fierce hug. ‘I’ll never leave you, Dad. That’s one thing you’ll never have to worry about. I don’t want a Prince Charming. I don’t need anybody else but you. We don’t need anybody else but each other. For ever.’

When Logan left the house a few minutes later, his mood was troubled. And it remained that way as he followed the track through the woods to the swimming hole. How come he’d never noticed before just how dependent on him Andy had become? Sure, they spent a lot of time together, he’d made a point of doing that; he’d tried to fill the space her mother had left in her life. But he hadn’t realised the intensity of her dependence on him. He hadn’t realised that there was a possessive aspect to her feelings for him.

If ignored, it could eventually become unhealthy. He had to put a stop to it. Without delay.

He was still thinking about the problem half an hour later, when he heard the sound of rushing water ahead. Veering off the track, he cut through the undergrowth, and made his way to the six-foot-high rock east of the fall.

Shedding his shirt and trainers, he ambled round the rock, and dived into the crystal clear waters of the pool.

Sara started as she heard the sound of splashing. Not the steady rush of the waterfall, but a more erratic sound.

She pushed herself up on her elbows and squinted against the sun. She’d come upon the swimming hole by accident days ago, and had spent her afternoons there ever since. Afternoons that had been peaceful and un interrupted. But now... She frowned as she saw that the surface of the swimming hole was rippled.

Someone surged to the surface, and her heart lurched. It was a man. With dark hair.

She sprang to her feet, and slipped behind the huge granite rock at her side. Peeking round warily, pulses racing, she waited.

The swimmer shot to the surface again. And started swimming lethargically around the large pool. He was wearing brief trunks... the same colour as his hide.

Logan Hunter.

Frustration burned like bile in her throat. Was there no getting away from the man? She’d come all this way to avoid him...and here he was, like the proverbial bad penny!

She drew back behind the rock again, and that was when she noticed his shirt and sneakers. He’d tossed them down there, quite unaware that anyone else was around.

Her eyes narrowed. A wicked smile twitched the corners of her mouth. He’d called her a thief, hadn’t he? Well, give a dog a bad name, might as well hang it!

It took her just a moment to gather up her own things and put them in her backpack; then she scooped up his shirt and sneakers.

It’s going to be a long walk home, Mr Hunter!

Laughter bubbled up inside her as she snuck away.

‘Gotcha!’

Sara gasped, and Logan’s shirt and shoes tumbled from her hands.

Logan took enormous delight in having startled the devious Mrs Wynter as he grasped her shoulders. He whirled her round and he couldn’t keep the smugness from his expression as he looked down into her shocked face.

Her cheeks were bright pink. ‘I thought—’

‘You thought I wouldn’t see you.’ What kind of perfume was she wearing? Something tangy, provocative... ‘But I did. And now you’re going to have to pay.’

‘Pay?’ she asked faintly.

‘You didn’t think you could plot to make me hike two miles in my bare feet... and get away with it?’ he mocked.

‘It was a joke.’

‘Ah. A joke.’

‘Well—’ she tilted her nose up at him defiantly ‘—not so much a joke as...retribution.’

‘For...?’