Suddenly she found herself wishing she had something else on. Something with a bit of…glamour?

Now that was crazy. She was heading home to put her feet up, watch the telly and go to bed. What would she do with glamour?

He was asking her about a job. Yeah, they all needed deckhands, she thought, trying to ground herself. Lots of big yachts came into harbour here. There’d be one guy in charge-someone like this. There’d also be a couple of deckies, but the guy in charge would be the only one paid reasonable wages by the owners. Deckies were to be found in most ports-kids looking for adventure, willing to work for cheap travel. They’d get to their destination and disappear to more adventure, to be replaced by others.

Did this man seriously think she might be interested in such a job?

‘My friend was having fun at my expense,’ she said, settling now she knew what he wanted. Still trying to firm up her knees, though. ‘Sorry, but I’m a bit old to drop everything and head off into the unknown.’

‘Are you ever too old to do that?’

‘Yes,’ she snapped before she could stop herself-and then caught herself. ‘Sorry. Look, I need to get on.’

‘So you’re not interested.’

‘There’s a noticeboard down at the yacht club,’ she told him. ‘There’s always a list of kids looking for work. I already have a job.’

‘You do have a job.’ His smile had faded. He’d ditched his coat, leaving only his jeans and T-shirt. They were faded and old and…nice. He was tall and broad-shouldered. He looked loose-limbed, casually at ease with himself and quietly confident. His eyes were blue as the sea, though they seemed to darken when he smiled, and the crinkles round his eyes said smiling was what he normally did. But suddenly he was serious.