He leapt over the foredeck onto the quay and secured the boat to the jetty while Flora de-rigged the boat, wishing they could have stayed out on the water. Now that they were on dry land she was suddenly aware that she was with Conner MacNeil and that all the locals were watching them.

As usual, Conner was totally indifferent. ‘I had no idea your father encouraged you to indulge in such dangerous pastimes. My impression was that he kept you under lock and key. He was strict.’

‘Not strict, exactly. Protective.’ Flora stepped off the boat and onto the quay. Hot after the exertion, she removed her hat and her hair tumbled loose over her shoulders. ‘My mother died when I was very young and I think he was terrified that something would happen to me, too. He never relaxed if I was out.’

‘I don’t remember you ever going out. All my memories of you have books in them.’

Flora laughed. ‘That was partly my fault. I was painfully shy and books stopped me having to talk to people.’

‘So why aren’t you shy with me, Flora?’

Her eyes flew to his, startled. It was true, she realised. She’d had such fun she hadn’t once felt shy with him. Not once. ‘I’m never shy when I’m sailing.’

But she knew that it had nothing to do with the sailing and everything to do with the man.

She felt comfortable with Conner.

Unsettled by that thought, she looked across the quay at the throngs of tourists who were milling around on their way to and from the beach. ‘Can I treat you to a hot fudge sundae? Meg’s café is calorie heaven.’

‘I don’t think so.’ He checked that the boat was securely tied. ‘I just upset the balance of Glenmore. I’m like you. Better with the boat than people. I’ve never been any good at platitudes and all the other false things people say to each other.’

It was so close to the way she felt that for a moment she stood still. Who would have thought that she and Conner had so many similarities? ‘But you came back.’

He gave a careless shrug. ‘It was time.’

But it wouldn’t be for long, she knew that.

Suddenly she just wanted to drag him straight back on the boat and sail back out to sea. On the water she’d had glimpses of the person behind the bad boy. He’d been relaxed. Good-humoured. Now they were back on dry land his ice-blue eyes were wary and cynical, as though he was braced for criticism.

A commotion on the far side of the quay caught her eye and she squinted across the water. ‘I wonder why the ferry hasn’t left yet.’ Flora glanced at her watch. ‘It’s five past four. Jim always leaves at four o’clock sharp. He’s never late.’

‘Obviously he is today.’