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on holiday. We don’t want to spend a lot of time cooking,’ said Thea, conscious that she was fighting a losing battle.

      ‘I’ll help you. We just need to make something simple. Sophie says her dad’s always going on about how he likes home cooking, but he can only do about three things himself. He’d probably really like it if you cooked something for him.’

      In the end, Thea gave in to shut Clara up. She knew quite well that her niece had visions of whisking Sophie away so that she and Rhys would be left sharing a romantic dinner for two on the terrace in the dark, with just the stars for company.

      Put like that, it didn’t sound too bad, did it? Thea’s hormones rustled with something dangerously like excitement at the thought. They were completely out of order today.

      Besides, Clara was right. A meal in return for all Rhys’s help was the least she could offer. She would make the invitation very casual. If he didn’t want to come, she would have done her duty and she could tell Clara that Rhys wasn’t really interested.

      But when she mentioned it, as casually as she could, Rhys didn’t even put up a token show of reluctance. ‘That sounds great,’ he said. ‘We’d like that, wouldn’t we, Sophie?’

      ‘Better than eating with stupid Damian and Hugo,’ she muttered.

      Thea raised her brows at Rhys, who was looking uncomfortable at his daughter’s lack of manners. ‘Damian and Hugo?’

      ‘The two boys in the other villa,’ he explained. ‘The Paines are here for three weeks as well. They’ve been very hospitable all week, a little too hospitable as far as Sophie’s concerned. They’re always asking us over for meals.’

      ‘You don’t like them either,’ said Sophie sullenly.

      ‘That’s not true,’ he protested, although not very convincingly, Thea thought.

      They were sitting at a taverna in the village square, under the shade of an enormous plane tree. The shopping had been safely stashed in the car, and Thea was starving again. When Rhys had suggested lunch she had agreed with alacrity and had ordered souvlaki and chips with an enormous Greek salad, reasoning that it was too late to start pretending that a lettuce leaf was all she usually had for lunch, with perhaps a low fat yoghurt if she was indulging herself.

      ‘Well, Clara and I are very honoured that you’d rather eat with us than Hugo and Damian, Sophie,’ she said lightly, and Sophie hung her head.

      ‘Yes, I would. Thanks,’ she mumbled from behind her hair.

      ‘It’ll be great,’ said Clara. ‘Can Sophie and I go shopping?’

      ‘Shopping?’ Thea stared at her niece. ‘Where?’

      ‘They had some postcards at the supermarket.’

      Thea strongly suspected that Clara was concocting an excuse to leave her alone with Rhys, but she could hardly accuse her of that now. She contented herself with a meaningful look.

      ‘All right, but don’t be too long, and stay together.’

      ‘OK. Come on, Sophie.’

      She bore Sophie off on a wave of enthusiasm that poor Sophie was powerless to resist, and Thea and Rhys were left alone.

      There was a slightly awkward silence. For some reason Thea’s nerve endings were on alert, only amber so far, perhaps, but with those treacherous hormones egging them on Thea couldn’t discount the alarming possibility that they would suddenly switch to red alert and start shrieking like an intruder alarm at a high security facility.

      Desperately, she gazed around the village square but, stare as hard as she might at the whitewashed walls and the dusty geraniums straggling out of painted oil barrels and the gnarled old men sitting morosely in the shade, her attention was fixated on Rhys.

      He was sitting next to her at the small square table, resting his forearms tantalisingly close to hers on the checked plastic tablecloth. Thea was acutely aware of the soft, dark hairs by his broad wrist, of the unpretentious watch, and the square, capable hands, and her fingers tingled with speculation about how it would feel to lay her own over them.

      The very idea made the breath dry in her throat. Something was very wrong, she thought, confused. Her body appeared to have forgotten that she was pining for Harry. It was Harry whose warm skin she wanted to touch.

      Only yesterday, Harry had dominated her thoughts, and now when she made the effort to conjure up his handsome face all she could see was Rhys, turning his head to smile at her, the sunlight in his eyes.

      Thea felt as if the earth beneath her feet had suddenly started to crumble. She was just tired, she told herself desperately. How could she be thinking clearly after less than four hours’ sleep? She would be fine after a siesta.

      The waiter brought a little jug of retsina, and Thea tried not to stare at Rhys’s hand as he poured, but her own was unsteady as she picked up her drink and their eyes met as they chinked glasses. She must get a grip.

      Looking quickly away, she reached out for a fat green olive. ‘Is it true what Sophie said?’

      ‘What about?’

      ‘That you don’t like our neighbours? What are they called again…the Paines?’

      ‘Oh, that.’ Rhys looked a little uncomfortable. He swirled the liquid in his glass as he picked his words with care. ‘They’re very…kind,’ he said at last.

      ‘But?’

      He grimaced. ‘They’re just a bit much, I suppose. Especially Kate. She’s one of those women who believe everybody ought to be part of a couple, and seems to take the fact that I haven’t married again as a personal affront. I’m not sure where she thinks I would have found a suitable wife in the Sahara!’ he added dryly.

      ‘Oh, God,’ groaned Thea. ‘Don’t tell me I’ve come all the way to Crete to end up next to the kind of people who think being single is just a deliberately selfish attempt to throw out the seating plans for their dinner parties?’

      The creases around Rhys’s eyes deepened in amusement. ‘Oh, you’ve met them, then?’

      Glumly, Thea helped herself to another olive. ‘They’re part of an extended sub-species, copulus smugus, otherwise known as smug married couples.’ She sighed. ‘Oh, well, I suppose forewarned is forearmed,’ she went on as she discarded the stone. ‘I’ll be ready for pitying looks and questions about why I haven’t married and advice about not leaving it too long to have babies, because time’s ticking away, isn’t it?’

      ‘I can’t believe you’d get those kind of comments very often,’ said Rhys, and she stared at him.

      ‘Why not?’

      He looked a bit taken aback by her vehemence. ‘Well…I don’t know. I’d just assumed that someone like you would always be with somebody.’

      Someone like you. What did that mean?

      ‘No, I seem to be a serial singleton.’ Thea picked up her retsina and drank morosely.

      The truth was that even when she had been with Harry she had never really felt part of a couple. She had kept waiting for someone to point a finger and say, Who do you think you’re kidding? You’re just playing at having a man.

      Rhys was studying her vivid face over the rim of his own glass, noting the cloud of soft brown hair, the smoke-grey eyes, the generous curve of her mouth and the lush body. ‘You surprise me,’ he said.

      Thea hadn’t been expecting that. Startled, her eyes veered towards his and then skidded away. That smiling green gaze of his was unnerving enough at the best of times.

      He was only being polite, anyway. What else could he say? Lose a couple of stone and do something about your hair, and you might be in with a chance?

      She sipped her retsina, willing the faint colour across her

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