LITMIR.BIZ

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wanted to reach out to the child, but without warning the slight figure whirled away and ran off, taking a short cut over an overgrown rosebed. To Sara’s horror, she tripped on a tangled root, and fell forward, to land in a crumpled heap on the ground.

      Sara rushed to help her get up, but as the girl put her weight on her right foot she winced and grabbed onto Sara for support.

      ‘I’ve done something to my ankle,’ she said with a half-sob. ‘It really hurts.’

      ‘Come inside and—’

      ‘Thanks...but I’d rather go home. Will you help me walk back? I don’t think I can do it on my own.’

      ‘Of course. Here, put your arm around my neck.’ Sara grimaced. ‘I haven’t even asked you your name,’ she said as she braced herself to support the slender figure.

      ‘It’s Andrea. Andrea Beth Hunter.’

      ‘Andrea. That’s pretty. I’m Sara Wynter.’

      ‘Miss Wynter, I—’

      ‘It’s Mrs Wynter, actually, but please call me Sara.’

      They started up towards the house, with Andrea hopping erratically on her left leg, and leaning heavily on Sara.

      ‘Mrs Wynter, I...um...saw you with Zach Grant.’

      Sara hid a smile as she heard the wistful note in Andrea’s voice. So... a fan. ‘Yes, he brought me here. I wish he could’ve stayed longer, but he’s—’

      ‘He’s filming in Vancouver. I know. My friend Chrissie and I—we’re members of his fan club. Will he...be coming back?’

      ‘He’ll be coming to pick me up in a couple of weeks. Then shortly after he’ll be returning to Los Angeles. He lives there...but of course—’ Sara smiled ‘—you’ll already know that.’

      She was heading for the front door, but Andrea said, ‘Let’s use the side door. I don’t want Dad to hear me come in...if he sees me hopping like this...well, he’s a regular old fusspot!’

      ‘But you’ll have to tell him about your ankle—’

      ‘Oh, I will. But first I’ll put an ice pack on it. There’s a bag of green peas in the freezer; I’ll use that.’

      On reaching the side door, Sara tugged it open, and they entered what turned out to be a small sitting room.

      ‘The kitchen’s across the hall from here,’ Andrea said.

      Sara noticed her face had become very white. ‘Come sit down on this sofa and put your leg up while I get the ice.’

      After a token protest, Andrea allowed herself to be helped onto the sofa, where she lay back, her eyes closed. ‘There’s a bottle of aspirin in one of the drawers,’ she said huskily. ‘Could you bring me a couple?’

      ‘Of course.’

      From above came the sound of someone moving about.

      ‘That’s Dad,’ Andrea offered with a weak gesture of one hand. ‘He’s packing in the master bedroom. Like I said...’ Her voice trailed away.

      Sara hurried to the kitchen, and found the bag of peas in the freezer section of the fridge. Locating the aspirin wasn’t so easy. She pulled out drawer after drawer, riffled through the tidy contents of each one, and had reached the last, in a cabinet at the far end of the kitchen, when she heard Logan Hunter’s voice come from the doorway behind her.

      ‘What the hell,’ he said in a tone of quiet menace, ‘are you doing in my house?’

      She put a hand to her throat as she swivelled round, and threw him a shaky smile. ‘You startled me! I’m just looking for—’

      ‘What you’re looking for, and what you’re going to get, lady, is trouble. You’ll find nothing else here. I don’t keep money stashed in the kitchen, and if you’re looking for drugs in that medicine cabinet you’ve come to the wrong place—’

      ‘Daddy!’ Horror filled the voice that came from behind Logan. ‘Don’t! Mrs Wynter came to help me—’

      Sara looked beyond Logan as he spun round, and saw Andy hopping along the carpeted hallway in her bare feet, bracing her hand against the wall with each jerky hop.

      ‘Andy? What the—?’ Logan sounded shocked.

      ‘I fell, Dad, and twisted my ankle, or sprained it or something. I had to ask Mrs Wynter to help me back to the house, and then she offered to get me an ice bag and some aspirin.’ Face ashen, Andrea started to slump, and would have slid to the floor if her father hadn’t moved fast.

      He scooped her up in his arms and, muttering under his breath, took off with her in the direction of the small sitting room, leaving Sara standing alone in the kitchen, feeling limp as a wet rag herself.

      Her hand shook as she put the aspirin bottle on the countertop. It shook as she set down the frozen peas beside the aspirin. And by the time she had poured a glass of cold water from the tap, and placed it by the peas, her whole body was trembling.

      The man, she decided with a rising tide of anger, was an ogre...and he certainty didn’t deserve to have a daughter as sweet as Andrea.

      She hoped the child was going to be all right.

      But, either way, she herself was going to avoid both father and daughter, for the rest of her time on the island.

      And if that turned out to be impossible she’d place a call to Zach and ask him to come back early and pick her up.

      No way would her creative juices ever have a chance to start flowing again as long as Logan Hunter was around.

      The thought added fuel to her anger, and resentment burned to her very bones as she let herself out by the kitchen door and stomped back down the hill to the cottage.

      CHAPTER THREE

      JUST before noon, Sara heard heavy footsteps outside the bathroom window and recognised Logan Hunter’s purposeful tread.

      What did he want this time?

      And his timing couldn’t have been worse, she decided as she glanced ruefully down at her skimpily clad figure!

      She jumped when she heard his loud rat-tat-tat on the front door.

      Wrapping a huge terry towel around herself, over her undies, she padded barefoot out of the bathroom, and was halfway along the passage when he knocked again.

      She stopped at the closed door and spoke through it. ‘What do you want?’ Her tone was frosty.

      ‘I want to talk to you.’

      ‘This is not a good time.’

      She listened. There was no sound of retreating feet. Heaving out a frustrated sigh, she leaned back against the door and looked down the narrow hallway to the living room. A dingy little room. And bare as a baby’s bottom. Minimum amount of furniture...sofa, two armchairs, one coffee table, one ancient TV. ‘I said,’ she threw into the hallway, ‘this is not a good time.’

      ‘Then I’ll wait here till it is. What I want to say has to be said.’

      ‘Through the door, then.’

      ‘To your face.’

      ‘Sorry, but—’

      He shoved the door open and sent her flying down the passage. She only just managed to keep her balance, but as she scrambled to stay upright the towel became dislodged, caught under her feet and she tripped. Flailing in the air, she fell against the wall with a sideways thud that jarred her shoulder and knocked the breath out of her.

      Logan Hunter loomed over her, his arms outstretched in an offer of help that wasn’t only too late, but also unwelcome.

      ‘You,’ she

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