LITMIR.BIZ

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clapping her hands and telling the uncaring animal how clever he was.

      ‘Why do you assume it’s a male?’ Mac demanded, his reaction to the sight of her capering happiness making the words come out grouchier than he’d intended.

      Golden eyes lifted to his.

      ‘Honestly,’ she said, a smile barely hidden on her lips, ‘do you think a girl porpoise would be stupid enough to get into a fix like this?’

      ‘Hmmph!’

      He couldn’t recall ever making a ‘hmmph’ noise before but that was definitely how it came out, but it was time to be practical, not argue over male versus female in the stupidity stakes. He’d certainly been the stupid one in his marriage, assuming it had meant things like love and fidelity on both sides...

      Annoyed by the thought, he concentrated on the porpoise.

      ‘What do we do next?’

      Izzy studied the still stranded animal. At least it was right way up now, but was she keeping her eyes on it, so she didn’t have to look at the man—Mac?

      She’d been so delighted when their plan had worked, she’d looked up at him to share the success—straight into the bluest eyes she had ever seen. Right there, deep in the tangled mess of dark hair, was a pair of truly breathtaking blue eyes. She was pretty sure her heart hadn’t stood still, even for an instant, but it sure had seemed like it...

      Think about the porpoise!

      ‘Maybe if we dig a trench, kind of extending our hole towards the sea, he might be able to slide forward as the tide rises.’

      ‘Or perhaps we should get help,’ the man with the blue eyes said, giving the impression he was done with the animal rescue business.

      Or maybe he was just being practical.

      ‘We’re three kilometres from town and I don’t have a phone—do you?’

      He looked put out as he shook his head, as if admitting he didn’t have a phone was some kind of weakness, but who in their right mind would want to carry a phone on a wilderness walk? There were small fishing and holiday villages along the route and anyone walking it was obliged to report each day’s destination so a search could be mounted if the walker didn’t turn up. And at this time of the year there’d be other people on the path—

      She looked up towards it—hopefully...

      No people right now.

      ‘So, it’s up to us,’ she said, hoping he’d stay so there’d be an ‘us’. ‘I don’t suppose you’re carrying a sleeping bag?’

      ‘A sleeping bag?’

      He seemed confused so she added quickly, ‘Thing you sleep in—the nights have been cool, I thought you might—’

      ‘I do know what a sleeping bag is,’ he growled, ‘I just can’t see why you’re asking.’

      Grouchy, huh?

      ‘For a sling,’ she explained, although the bemusement on his face suggested he still wasn’t with her. ‘Can you get it?’ she asked, very politely, and smiling as she spoke because she needed this man’s help and didn’t want to upset him any more than she already had.

      ‘We’ll try to slip it under him,’ she explained. ‘We probably should have done it before he rolled but it’s too late now, so we’ll just have to build a little pool for him. I don’t think we could lift him with the sleeping bag, but once the water rises and takes some of the weight, we’ll be able to guide him into deeper water.’

      ‘You want me to put my sleeping bag into the water for this animal?’

      The disbelief in his voice stopped all thoughts of politeness.

      ‘Oh, stop complaining and go get it. This part of the track ends at Wetherby. I’ll buy you a new sleeping bag there.’

      He didn’t move for a moment, simply looking at her and shaking his head, as if she, not the stranded porpoise, was the problem.

      Muttering something under his breath—something that could have been about bossy women—he turned and strode away, long, strong legs eating up the distance back to the track.

      Izzy realised she was staring after him, shook her head in turn, and returned to digging with renewed determination.

      Better by far than thinking of the blue eyes or strong legs or the fact that the rest of him, now his T-shirt was wet and clung to a very well-developed chest, wasn’t too bad either.

      Aware that he was behaving like a loutish imbecile, Mac returned to his already diminished pack and pulled out his sleeping bag, unrolling and unzipping it so it was ready when he reached the water.

      Her idea was a good one—he should have thought of it himself.

      Was he annoyed because he hadn’t?

      Or because of his inexplicable awareness of the woman who had?

      Wasn’t he done with that kind of attraction?

      Not with women in general—he had several good women friends, some of whom, from time to time, he had taken to bed.

      Until that had become awkward—more than physical attraction creeping in—though not on his side.

      And the one thing he’d learned from his marriage was that physical attraction was dangerous. It messed with a man’s head, leading him to make rash decisions.

      And wasn’t his head holding enough mess already? The Iraq posting, then finding out about his wife and her physical attractions...

      Ex-wife!

      He shook his head to free it of the past and studied the animal as he approached, determined to take control of this situation.

      Wasn’t that what ED specialists did?

      ‘I’m deepening the hole—not easy because the sand just washes back in with the next wave but I think if we persist we can do it,’ the woman, Izzy, said. ‘Do you mind wetting his eyes again?’

      So much for taking charge!

      But as the tide rose and the water in their porpoise paddling pool grew deeper, he forgot about messy heads and wars and women, determined now to get this creature back into the deeper water where it belonged. He dug until his arms ached, pushing the sleeping bag beneath the heavy body, reaching for Izzy’s fingers, grasping towards his from the other side.

      By the time the water in the hole was knee deep they had their sleeping bag sling in place, each holding one side, lifting as the waves came in and easing the docile creature inch by inch into deeper water.

      ‘Look, he’s floating now,’ Izzy said, and Mac was surprised to realise the weight had gone from their sling.

      ‘You’re right,’ he said, feeling a surge of relief for the animal. ‘But just keep the bag underneath him. We need to roll him back and forth so he gets the feel of his body moving in the water. Well, I think that’s the idea. I just know when you catch, tag, and release a big fish, you have to ease it back and forth in the water until it swims away.’

      He pushed at the huge body and Izzy pushed back, the pair of them moving into deeper and deeper water until, with a splash of his tail, the rescued animal took off, diving beneath the surface and appearing, after an anxious few minutes, further out to sea.

      ‘He’s gone! We did it—we did it!’ Izzy yelled, leaping towards Mac and hugging him so the sloppy, wet sleeping bag she was still holding wrapped around him like a straitjacket and he sank beneath the waves.

      But once untangled and in shallower water, he returned the hug, the success of their endeavour breaking the reserve of strangers.

      He was beginning to enjoy the armful of woman and wet sleeping bag when Izzy eased away, hauling the sleeping bag out of the water and attempting to fold

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