Miss Prim's Greek Island Fling. Michelle Douglas

at the same time that she did, and their fingers brushed against each other. It was the briefest of contacts, but it sent electricity charging up his arm and had him sucking in a breath. For one utterly unbalancing moment he thought she meant to repeat the gesture.

      ‘That’s alyssum,’ she said, pulling her hand away.

      He moistened his lips. ‘I had no idea you liked gardening.’

      She stared at him for a moment and he watched her snap back into herself like a rubber band that had been stretched and then released. But opposite to that because the stretching had seemed to relax her while the snapping back had her all tense again.

      ‘Don’t worry, Finn. I’m not going to make you garden while you’re here.’

      Something sad and hungry, though, lurked in the backs of her eyes, and he didn’t understand it at all. He opened his mouth to ask her about it, but closed it again. He didn’t get involved with complicated emotions or sensitive issues. He avoided them like the plague. Get her to laugh, get her to loosen up. That was his remit. Nothing more. But that didn’t stop the memory of that sad and hungry expression from playing over and over in his mind.