Jasper Bright stood up in the waist deep water, having obviously dived in head first. His wet hair was dripping on to his shoulders and his chest and he filled his cupped hands with more water and tossed it over him head so that it cascaded down his torso.
He hadn’t seen her yet as far as she was aware, and she sat as rigid as a rock. When he dived back into the water once again, she leapt to her feet, grabbed her towel and her bag and scampered back to the sloping cliff.
She reached the foot of it when she heard him call her name.
‘Lara!’
She stopped for barely a second, and then rushed on her way again. She would pretend she hadn’t heard him. She might be able to pretend it wasn’t her. He hadn’t seen her in a dress so he might not recognise her.
But he had, because he had called out her name.
Cross with herself and with him, yet again, she ran back to her cottage and slammed the door behind her, leaning her back against it and gasping for breath.
Running might be something Jasper enjoyed, but not her.
A bang on the door startled her so much that she let out a shriek.
‘Lara.’
It was Jasper. He had followed her.
She stayed as quiet as a mouse.
‘Lara,’ he repeated. ‘We need to talk. Please open the door.’
That was the last thing she was going to do. Seeing him close up would be hard enough. Seeing him with just swimming trunks on, or whatever he had been wearing, would be unbearable.
