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MELANIE MILBURNE

      MORE ABOUT THE AUTHOR

       MELANIE MILBURNE

      I am married to a surgeon, Steve, and have two gorgeous sons, Paul and Phil. I live in Hobart, Tasmania, where I enjoy an active life as a longdistance runner and a nationally ranked top ten Master’s swimmer. I also have a Master’s Degree in Education, but my children totally turned me off the idea of teaching! When not running or swimming I write, and when I’m not doing all of the above I’m reading. And if someone could invent a way for me to read during a four-kilometre swim I’d be even happier!

      To Bev and Darrell Croker, thank you for being there right from the start of this dream. Your continued belief in me has carried me through some of life’s toughest times. Love you both.

      CHAPTER ONE

      IF SHE hadn’t been running so horrendously late, she would never have taken the short cut in the first place.

      Amelia let out a stiff curse as she tried to free herself from the rambling briar that had caught her as she’d climbed over the back fence adjoining the property of her last community health home visit of the day.

      ‘Well, what do you know?’ a deep male voice drawled from just behind her. ‘The legend is true after all—there are fairies at the bottom of the garden.’

      she swivelled her head around to see a tall man looking up at her where she was perched so precariously, his black-brown gaze twinkling with amusement.

      It was very disconcerting as he looked so very Italian with his deeply tanned olive skin and his thick, short hair so dark, and yet she couldn’t decide from his accent if he was American or British. He was even wearing what looked like an Italian designer shirt and trousers, the top four buttons of the shirt undone casually, leaving a great expanse of tanned, muscular chest on show.

      ‘Is this your house and garden?’ she asked, tugging at her lightweight cotton skirt to free it, with little success.

      ‘No,’ he said with a lazy smile. ‘I’m just renting for a few weeks, but the landlord didn’t tell me about the little bonus in the back garden. He should have charged me more rent. I would have gladly paid it.’

      Amelia felt the colour begin to flare in her cheeks and, frowning at him, gave her skirt another little tug but it wouldn’t budge.

      His smile widened, showing very white teeth as his dark gaze ran over her appraisingly, taking in her petite shape and elfin features. ‘Actually, I’ve changed my mind,’ he said. ‘You’re not a fairy. You look more like a pixie to me.’

      Amelia had to force herself not to roll her eyes at him in disdain. ‘Actually, I am a community nurse who is now more than half an hour late to visit an elderly patient,’ she said through tight lips. ‘And if you or your landlord took better care of your garden I would not be stuck up here like this!’

      He folded his arms across his chest, rocking back on his heels as his eyes glinted at her playfully. ‘And if you were not trespassing on private property you wouldn’t have been ensnared by that bramble in the first place.’ He unfolded one of his arms and waggled one long, tanned finger at her reprovingly.

      She sent him an arctic glare and gave her skirt another vicious tug, but all she succeeded in doing was giving him a rather generous view of her thigh.

      ‘If you tug any harder on that dress, you’ll have me blushing to the roots of my hair,’ he warned.

      Amelia knew she was the one blushing to her backbone. She had never felt so embarrassed nor so annoyed in her life. ‘Will you please leave me alone to extricate myself?’ she clipped out. ‘I would prefer not to have an audience right now.’

      He put his hands up to his eyes. ‘I promise not to peek.’

      She let out a tight little breath and began to attend to her skirt, but she could feel those dark, laughing eyes watching everything from between his deliberately splayed fingers.

      She finally tugged one part free of the bramble and shifted position to attend to where her skirt had snagged on a nail on the fence.

      ‘Can I look now?’ the man called out.

      ‘No,’ she said, giving another forceful tug. There was a ripping sound and, before she could do anything to counteract it, she toppled down from the fence into the man’s hastily outstretched arms below.

      ‘Oh!’ she gasped as he deftly caught her.

      ‘Wow!’ he said with a devilish grin. ‘I haven’t lost my touch after all. And here I was thinking that no woman was ever going to fall for me again.’

      Amelia hastily pushed what was left of her skirt over her bare thighs, her face aflame. ‘Please put me down,’ she said as stiffly as she could, considering the sudden escalation of her pulse rate and breathing.

      His face was so close she could see the black pupils of his eyes which were almost as dark as his irises. It looked as if his leanly chiselled jaw hadn’t been anywhere near a razor for at least a day or two, but in spite of his lack of grooming she could smell the citrus fragrance of his aftershave mingled in-toxicatingly with the muskiness of a man’s body warmed by the hot spring sunshine.

      He placed her on the ground in front of him, taking his time about it, she noted crossly.

      ‘There, now turn around and let’s see the damage,’ he said.

      Amelia stood completely frozen; she could feel air where she shouldn’t be feeling air, and to make matters even worse—she was certain she was wearing her oldest pair of knickers.

      ‘What’s wrong?’ he asked, but then, noticing the worried flick of her hazel gaze towards the fence, he whistled through his teeth and said, ‘Uh oh.’

      Amelia inwardly groaned as he walked up to the fence and removed what appeared to be the back half of her skirt from the nail. He came back and handed it to her, his mouth twitching at the corners. ‘It might need a stitch or two, I’m afraid.’

      ‘It’s fine,’ she said, backing away, doing her best to tuck the hapless bit of fabric into the elastic of the waistband of her skirt.

      ‘Would you like me to give you a leg up over the fence?’ he offered.

      ‘No, thank you. I’ll take the long way around.’ She took a deep breath and picked up her bag with her free hand, the other one holding her skirt in place as she stalked back the way she had come with the precious little dignity she had left.

      ‘Hey, you didn’t tell me your name,’ he called out after her, his mouth still tilted in a smile. ‘Let me guess—is it Tinkerbell?’

      She turned around and gave him one last cutting look. ‘You do not need to know my name as I will not be coming this way again.’

      ‘Pity,’ he said, his eyes twinkling again. ‘I kind of like the idea of having my very own pixie to play with.’

      She stomped off muttering under her breath but the sound of his deep chuckle of laughter followed her all the way to Signora Gravano’s house.

      ‘You look like you have been through a hedge backwards,’ the elderly woman said as she ushered Amelia into her neat little cottage.

      ‘I have,’ Amelia said, grimacing as she looked down at her tattered skirt, although she was relieved to find it had so far stayed in place.

      ‘Did you take the short cut again?’

      ‘Yes, unfortunately.’ She gave the old woman a speaking glance and added, ‘I met the new tenant.’

      ‘Ah, yes, the associate professor. He just moved in this morning.’

      Amelia’s head jerked up. ‘The associate what?’

      ‘The

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