Davina looked away from those rather hard grey eyes expressionlessly yet she found she was inwardly fuming and wondered why-it was not as if it had never happened to her before. In fact, it sometimes gave her cause for amusement, the fact that she had the kind of figure that attracted a lot of attention, darkish fair hair, darker eyebrows, and violet eyes set in a classically oval face. Amused her because her pin-up exterior didn't quite match her prosaic, practical, down-to-earth inner self and because if, as many men contrived to make her aware, she was the kind of girl they dreamt about, none of them had yet set her dreams alight.

But this is a bit different, she thought. For some reason or other, this man contrived to say that she might be good to bed but that would be the sum total of it-how dared he? Or did she imagine it?

She pondered for a moment longer, still determinedly looking the other way, then shrugged and decided she ought to make herself known to whoever had come to pick her up. But the little terminal was bustling and crowded now as resort employees gathered their guests and their luggage, the only staff member the airport boasted, apparently, was on the phone and no one appeared to be looking for a Davina Hastings, engaged as the temporary housekeeper for a Mr S. Warwick and his family.

So she collected her luggage and looked around again. The crowd was starting to thin and the tall man who had been leaning against the counter now had his back to her and his hands shoved irritably in his pockets as he scanned the retreating stream.

Then the pilot came in from the tarmac and, with a look of delighted recognition, came straight over to her. 'Hi!' he said. 'Thought I might have missed you. Where are you staying? I wondered if we could have dinner together, I'm staying overnight.'