They had never spoken of love. It was all part of being in a modern relationship, with no strings. You each lived your own life and passed on. But suddenly love was there, awkward, inconvenient, getting in the way of your plans, and unwanted, since he was a man who wouldn't be tied down, and love equaled strings. Right?

But he was asleep now, so she could whisper, "Sorry, darling. I went back on the deal. I wish I could tell you, but you'd be scared stiff. Never mind. My problem, not yours. It's all a laugh, isn't it? Oh Luke, Luke!"

Among other things Pippa adored Luke for his sweet temper. The only time she could recall seeing him disgruntled was when she was dressing to go out one Saturday, without inviting him, or even telling him where she was going.

"The first Saturday we've both had off for ages and you vanish," he grumbled. "And you're dressing up, as if it's somewhere special." He looked suspiciously at the clinging jersey dress in a brilliant cerise, that only she could have carried off. "It's not like you to keep secrets."

"It's only a little secret."

"So what's the big deal about telling me?" He scowled suddenly. "Who is he?"

"His name's Frank, and he's my uncle, and I'm going to his wedding."

"Great!" he sulked. "I'm not good enough to meet your family!"

"Don't be silly, darling. I just thought it would bore you. A wedding, solid family gathering, men in formal suits, women in hats. I know that sort of thing gives you nightmares.''

"I'd rather put up with it than not see you all day."

"Luke, are you sure? You know what'll happen if we go together-"

"People will simper and ask when you're going to make an honest man of me. Don't worry, we'll tell them you're keeping me as a pet. Will your father and Clarice be there?"