The Wedding Promise. Grace Green

      Logan snaked out an arm and caught her by the tail of her shirt. ‘Young lady,’ he said, ‘you will do no such thing. I don’t want you talking to these people. The man’s got no morals, and as for the woman—’

      ‘I don’t plan to talk to them,’ Andy said smoothly. ‘I won’t.’ She grimaced. ‘Do you think I’d want Zach Grant to see me with my hair like this?’ She leaned up and kissed her father on the jaw. ‘OK, the cut was a mistake, but when we go back to Vancouver I’ll get it styled properly. Pax?’

      Pax. It was what Bethany had always said when they’d had one of their teasing arguments and she’d wanted her own way. Andy knew it, had always known it, and played it like an expert. He had no defence against it. Against the memories.

      ‘Pax.’ He managed a grin as he ruffled the dark curly disaster. ‘But get back here in half an hour and we’ll eat. How was Chrissie, by the way?’

      Andy called back over her shoulder, ‘Fine; she and her folks are coming by this way one day next week—they’re going to spend a couple of nights at their cabin on Galiano and Chrissie’s allowed to invite me along. Can I go? I told her yes, I knew it’d be fine.’

      She was gone before he could answer, and his ‘Yeah, that’ll be OK’ bounced back at him from the kitchen walls.

      

      ‘Zach...’

      ‘Mmm?’

      Sara looked up at him uncertainly. ‘I have the oddest feeling somebody’s watching us.’

      Zach took her hand and swung it as they walked along the beach, just below a stand of trees. ‘Somebody is,’ he said. ‘We’re being followed.’

      ‘Why didn’t you say something?’

      ‘It’s just a teenager. I spotted the kid up there in the trees, a few minutes ago. Probably holidaying in one of the properties further along. I believe there are four or five other houses on the island.’ Zach yawned. ‘Let’s go back now, honey. I’m going to hit the sack early. I was up at five today, and I need to be out of here again at the crack of dawn tomorrow.’

      ‘Sure. Boy or girl?’

      ‘Boy or girl what?’

      ‘The teenager.’

      ‘Oh. Girl. Punky haircut.’

      ‘Where exactly did you see her?’

      Zach looked round, scanned the treed area. ‘Over there...but she’s gone. Not nervous, are you?’

      ‘Good heavens, no. I haven’t a nervous bone in my body.’

      ‘That’s what I thought...otherwise I’d have rented you a de luxe condo where you’d have crowds of people around.’

      Sara shuddered. ‘I’ve had my fill of de luxe, Zach. And I like to have my own space. Need it right now, actually... so the cottage is great. No frills. Back to basics. Just perfect. I really do appreciate you and Mom setting this up for me. Ever since I found out about Travis and—’ her throat tightened and she couldn’t get the words out ‘—you know... I somehow haven’t been able to get myself together enough to organise myself out of a paper bag!’

      ‘We’ve both been worried about you. But now that that rotter’s finally legally out of your life you can start to put the pieces together again.’

      They’d reached the cottage door. Zach opened it, and stood back to let Sara pass.

      She glanced around again, just before she went inside, and that was when she saw the girl.

      The teenager was peering at them from behind an arbutus tree. The moment she realised Sara had spotted her she slipped out of sight, elusive as a forest nymph.

      A leggy little thing, Sara mused, and pretty—except for the unfortunate haircut!

      ‘You’re smiling,’ Zach said. ‘What’s up?’

      ‘Oh...that girl. I saw her...but she’s gone now.’

      ‘Probably the last you’ll see of her.’ Zach put his hand in the small of her back and nudged her inside the cottage. ‘Young kid like that...what could she find to interest her in a couple of old fogeys like us?’

      

      Next morning, the sound of a motor boat woke Logan.

      He grunted, flung his arms out over the mattress, and squinted at his bedside clock.

      It wasn’t even six! Who the devil was making that racket before the birds had even started their dawn chorus?

      Flinging himself out of bed, he stumbled, naked, across to the window overlooking the Straits, and yanked up the venetian blinds.

      Eyes still bleary with sleep, he peered out. And blinked when he saw that the white cabin cruiser was no longer tied up at the dock. It was heading away fast in the direction of the mainland.

      Deep satisfaction immediately followed his initial moment of surprise—deep satisfaction and a relish that was almost malicious. Had the cabin been too spartan for Zach Grant’s sybaritic tastes? Or had it been the haughty blonde who had found its shabby bareness intolerable? Whatever—Logan ran his fingers through his tousled hair and grinned—they were gone.

      Hallelujah!

      Fired with a sudden burst of energy, he crossed to the bathroom and snatched up a pair of swimming trunks from the towel rail. He’d go down there right now and remove their garbage—people like them always left garbage: empty bottles, unwashed glasses, overflowing ashtrays, soiled sheets...and worse. Contempt curled his upper lip.

      Afterwards, he’d go for a swim off the dock.

      The water would be icy; but it might help wash away his feeling of profound distaste at the thought of the cottage having been used as a love nest.

      

      Sara had planned to return to her bed after seeing Zach off, but by the time she’d walked back to the cottage from the jetty the chilly morning air had slapped her wide awake.

      So instead she made for the smaller bedroom which Zach had used; she tore the linen off the bed, packed the blankets away, and, after tidying up the room, tossed the sheets and pillow slips into the bathroom hamper.

      Then she was about to step into the shower, when she changed her mind. She’d soak in a long and lazy bath...and then she’d make herself another pot of coffee.

      It was wonderful, she reflected as she turned on the taps and slipped out of her robe, to be on holiday. To have no worries; no deadlines; no plans of any kind.

      And the best thing about this particular holiday was that she was going to spend it absolutely on her own.

      As for that hateful man in the white house on the hill, she would just ignore him, pretend he didn’t exist.

      It was the only way to deal with people like him!

      

      Logan stuck the key in the lock, turned the knob, and pushed the door open.

      The interior of the cottage was silent. The only sounds came from outside. Birds warbled, dancing wavelets splashed against the jetty, the brisk breeze rustled leaves in the garden. He left the door open and stepped inside.

      The air was dusty, with the faint lingering smell of coffee. So...they’d breakfasted before they’d gone.

      He moved through to the kitchen, and snorted with disgust. Just as he’d expected, they’d left the place a pigsty. Hadn’t even emptied the coffeepot; hadn’t even cleared the table, far less washed the mugs and plates.

      He’d start cleaning in here, but first he’d check to see what kind of a mess they’d left in the other areas.

      He poked his nose into the smaller bedroom and saw that the