Travel writing?Parenting articles?Is that what you’ve resorted to?
Libby could almost hear Juliana’s sneering tone.It hissed and whipped in the wind outside, along with the rain spitting against her window with atap-tap-tap.
Closing her eyes, Libby pushed Juliana out of her mind, thinking instead about all the sun-drenched beach videos she’d shoot that would, eventually, earn her a load of hits and new subscribers.
Tap-tap-tap.
She’d show Juliana.And she’d show Elliot, too.
Tap-tap-tap.
“Mrs.Jones.”
The hushed voice on the other side of the door had Libby opening one eye.
“Mrs.Jones.”Tap-tap-tap.
Not the rain at all, but Mr.Hehu—but why was he knocking on her door at this time of night?Libby scooted out of bed and pressed her face against the door.
“Are you okay, Mr.Hehu?What do you want?”
“Your husband is here.”
My what?
“I told you, we’re not married!”
At the sound of that deep, gruff, British voice, Libby cracked open the door.A pair of large male hands planted firmly on narrow hips filled her vision.Her gaze shifted up to a broad chest, the wind-pressed fabric of his top defining the curves of his pecs, and then that tightly clenched jaw and familiar scowl.
Daniel Jones.
She’d known all along who he was—despite the cap he’d pulled over his dark, tortured eyes as they’d waited to board at Auckland.She’d been dabbing her sweaty forehead after her run to the gate, standing in line with all the other families and people in need of assistance, when she’d first spotted him.The Olympic champ, nicknamed Lightning Strike, partly due to his skill of exploding out of the starting blocks, and partly because of his famous victory move.When he won a race, he’d pop his body in a quick, shockwave move from his toes to his head—as if he’d been struck by lightning—ending with his fist in the air and wild, screaming crowds.
When he’d sat next to her on the flight, she hadn’t believed her luck!Old habits had her gagging to ask for an interview, but he’d looked so sad and alone that all she’d wanted to do was cheer him up with some friendly conversation instead.
So much for that idea.
Libby opened the door wider, her gaze dipping to the shiny, silky orange shorts fluttering in the wind around his waist.“What are you wearing?”
“Never mind that,” he snapped.“You’re in my—hey!”He peered at her through the dim light.“You’re—”
“Yeah.”Libby folded her arms.“You maybe want to apologize to me now?”
“I tried, but you—”
“Ah-ha!”Mr.Hehu cackled.“A lover’s tiff!That’s why you not in the room already.”
“What?No!She’s—”
“You make up with her, you silly boy.”Mr.Hehu slapped him on the back, propelling him into her room.“Life’s too short, and she’s too pretty.”
“No, Mr.Hehu, we’re not—” The loud thud and growl on the floor made Libby turn.Daniel Jones had crash-landed through the open doorway.“Mr.Hehu!”
But Libby’s words were lost in the wind.The old man was already halfway across the garden, and she couldn’t shout in case she woke up Karim.She couldn’t leave the bungalow to chase after him either, not when there was a huge, groaning lump on the floor just a few feet away from her sleeping baby.
“Are you okay?”she asked.
“My leg!”He squeezed his eyes shut and gritted his teeth.
