LITMIR.BIZ

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was a telephone so that you could call out for a takeaway.’

      Andie stirred, eased limbs aching from so much unaccustomed exercise. ‘What would you call out for?’

      ‘Anything with sufficient calories to replace those I’ve used in the last couple of hours. Something hot and spicy.’

      ‘You’re a long way from an Indian takeaway. I’m afraid if your run took it out of you then the food of choice is going to have to be pasta.’

      ‘My run?’ He rolled onto his side and, propped on his elbow, he looked down at her. ‘I have only one thing to say to you, Miranda Marlowe.’

      ‘Just one?’ He looked so delicious that she would have reached up, hooked her hand around his neck and pulled him down so that she could kiss him if she’d had the energy. ‘And what is that, Cleve Finch?’

      ‘Walk to the bathroom and say that.’

      She laughed. ‘You win,’ she said, surrendering without hesitation. ‘The downside of that is that you’re going to have to carry me.’

      He leaned over and kissed her. ‘It would be my pleasure.’

      * * *

      The cooker was of the old-fashioned solid kind and it had survived both fire and the attack from the extinguisher. Between the stuff she’d picked up from the supermarket when she arrived and the things Cleve had bought in the village, the fridge yielded the basics for a decent tomato sauce.

      Cleve put on a pan of water to boil for the pasta and then they chopped and sliced, making it up as they went along.

      Once, when she realised that he’d stopped, she looked up and he was just looking at her.

      ‘Problem?’

      ‘What?’ He seemed to come from a long way away. ‘I was just wondering if you’re okay with garlic.’

      ‘We don’t have any garlic.’

      ‘Don’t we?’ He looked down at the table. ‘Olives. I meant olives.’

      ‘Olives are fine, but we’ll add them at the end.’

      ‘Okay. You’re in charge.’

      ‘Oh, no,’ she said, removing the seeds from a large tomato and chopping it up. ‘This is an equal opportunities supper. If it’s rubbish, you’re taking half the blame.’

      Oh, sugar... That hadn’t come out quite the way she’d meant it, but when she looked up he was grinning.

      ‘Onions, tomatoes, what could go wrong?’

      ‘Not a thing.’ She put heat under a pan, added a glug of olive oil then, when it was warm, piled in the chopped onions and gave them a shake.

      Cleve searched the drawers for a corkscrew and opened a bottle of red wine he’d bought while they were out.

      ‘Can I get you something to drink?’

      ‘I brought a bottle of elderflower pressé with me. It’s in the fridge.’

      He poured her a glass of the cordial, poured himself a glass of wine while Andie added the tomatoes to the pan and gave it a stir.

      ‘Do you enjoy cooking?’ he asked.

      She took a sip of her drink. ‘I think it’s a little bit late to be interviewing me for housewife skills.’

      ‘I’m not marrying a housekeeper, but I’ve just realised how little I know about you.’

      ‘Excuse me?’ She raised an eyebrow. ‘You’ve known me for years.’

      ‘I know what kind of person you are. Generous, kind, thoughtful, focused. I would, I have trusted you with my life in the air and I know you have a natural flair for design. Whatever you did to the tail of the Mayfly has certainly improved the fuel efficiency.’

      ‘My father has never forgiven you for giving me a job,’ she said.

      ‘Is that what he told you?’

      ‘He told me that in a recession no one would take a risk on a newly qualified “girl pilot”.’

      ‘Please tell me he didn’t say “girl pilot”?’

      ‘No,’ she admitted, ‘but he might as well have. I wrote hundreds of application letters, filled in dozens of forms but I never got a single interview. His fake sympathy made me so mad that I told him that you’d promised me a job if I got my CPL and I was going to fly down and see you.’

      ‘Oh? And what did he say about that?’

      ‘That times were tough and I shouldn’t rely on a spur-of-the-moment promise given three years before and no doubt forgotten as quickly.’

      ‘So, despite the promise, I was the last person you approached for a job?’

      ‘I thought he might have been right. It was the kind of thing a man might say...’

      ‘When he wants to get into the pants of a pretty girl?’

      ‘Maybe,’ she admitted, with the faintest hint of a blush. ‘And I knew it was my last chance so I made him a promise that if you’d forgotten, or if you didn’t have a job for me, I’d give up my dream of flying and join the design team.’

      ‘It’s just as well I did have an opening for a new pilot.’

      ‘You didn’t. Not really.’ She looked at him. ‘It didn’t take me long to realise that you could have managed very well without me.’

      ‘Business began to pick up right after that. By then you were familiar with all the aircraft and fully integrated with the team. It was one of my better decisions.’

      ‘Maybe, but that’s what I know about you, Cleve. You are a man who keeps his word.’

      His mouth was dry and he took another sip of wine. ‘We’re talking about you.’

      ‘Me? What you see is what you get. I’m scared of spiders. I don’t like frills or shopping for clothes, although I’m going to have to make an effort now that I don’t have a uniform to hide in.’

      ‘You look good in pink.’

      ‘Pink?’ She frowned. ‘I can’t remember the last time I wore pink.’ At least...

      ‘You wore a pale pink dress to your eighteenth birthday party.’ It had been made of something soft that floated when she’d spun around. ‘And you love daisies.’

      ‘Daisies?’

      He dumped a couple of handfuls of pasta into the water. ‘I wanted to send you flowers when I was in Cyprus but couldn’t think what would send the right message.’

      ‘Tricky,’ she agreed.

      ‘It would have helped if I’d known what the message was, but you always walk around the airfield and pick a bunch of dog daisies when they’re in flower.’ He stirred the pasta. ‘If I’d remembered that maybe you’d have told me about the baby.’

      ‘I don’t think online florists do dog daisies.’

      ‘No.’

      ‘I like cow parsley and rosebay willowherb too. All it costs to please me when it comes to flowers is a little effort.’

      ‘What about on Valentine’s Day?’

      ‘February? Violets. Harder to spot but they grow in their millions in the woods above the Marlowe airfield.’ She tasted the sauce. ‘You can add the basil now.’

      He tipped it into the pan.

      ‘I’ll grate the cheese.’

      ‘Cheese?’ She looked apprehensive. ‘I didn’t know we had any cheese.’

      He unwrapped the package that

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