After a sigh of resignation, she heard the ruffle of clothing and then John pushing his tattered shirt into her hand. She opened her eyes and turned back to look at him. She quashed the laugh that spasmed in her chest at the sight of this tall, dark, handsome man looking gangly and awkward in her pink dressing gown, instead going to the kitchen and stuffing his shirt into the bin and the rest of his clothes into the washer-dryer.

Annie came back into the sitting room with her arms full of fresh linen and thick blankets.

“It’s hard to look any kind of masculine in this,” John said, motioning to the dressing gown. “Whichever way I sit looks distinctly camp.”

He did look comical, the two edges of the gown constantly falling open to reveal his long, hairy legs. Annie gave a wry smile.

“Well, I think you look very becoming,” she said, directing him to get up while she laid a cotton sheet across the sofa cushions and fashioned him a makeshift bed.

“In you get,” she said, when she had finished.

John gave her a look that was halfway between amused and uncomfortable.

“You’re not going to tuck me in, are you?”

Annie flushed. That was exactly what she’d had in mind. “I want to make sure you’re comfortable,” she said. “Don’t be a pain in the arse about it.”

John grinned and climbed under the blankets, pulling them up around his chin. “Your bedside manner leaves a bit to be desired.”

“Shut up and go to sleep.”

Annie was reluctant to leave him. She’d suggested sleeping in the armchair, so she could keep an eye on him, but John had firmly vetoed the idea.

“I’m not going to be able to sleep if I think you’re watching me,” he’d said.

Annie sighed, hanging around near the door.

“Can I get you anything before I turn in?” she asked.

“A glass of water, please,” said John. “My throat feels like sandpaper.”

The paramedic had said a mixture of choking on the seawater and all the shouting would leave him with a sore throat for a few days. Annie dutifully brought him a large glass of water and put it on the coffee table next to him.

“Okay, well, get some sleep. You know where I am if you need me, just holler.”

“Will do.”

“Well. Good night, then.”

“Good night,” John answered.

Annie was at the door when John said: “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Worrying about me. Letting me stay tonight . . .” The words hung as if there was more to say, but nothing else came.

“It’s even more your home than it is mine,” said Annie. She smiled at him, then turned and left.

Chapter 85