Emma’s heart squeezed upwards and felt like it was lodged somewhere in her throat. She wasn’t sure if it was excitement or fear. And for a moment she was sideswiped by thoughts of Luke as a pang of guilt hit hard. What would he be thinking, her fiancé? Would it be breaking his heart to see her get all excited about meeting this guy? Yes, she knew Luke had left her, but in so many ways he still felt so close.

She felt a bit weird. There was still time to bolt. But then there was Max, standing up outside his car, giving her a small wave. She had been waiting for this moment. She felt a little sick. Alfie spotted him too and started pulling eagerly on the lead, propelling her towards him.

What if Max was a bit odd, though? She hardly knew him, after all. He might seem nice enough, but there could still be that axe in the boot of his car. She suddenly regretted agreeing to meet him on a half-empty beach, and she hadn’t even told anyone where she was going. Would Alfie protect her? She’d never seen him act fiercely in his life – he’d more likely roll over on his back for a tummy rub or hand her over for half a sausage. Thanks to Alfie they were still hurtling towards Max.

‘Hey.’ He smiled at her, then knelt down to give Alfie a rub around the ears.

He didn’t seem like an axe murderer. Emma smiled back. ‘Hi.’

‘It’s good to see you again.’ His eyes were a deep hazel-green, intense in a melt-you kind of way.

And with that look, she knew they were both remembering that moment nine months before in that very same spot.

Down on the beach, the early evening light was beginning to fade from a pale azure to a soft peachy glow and the waves rolled gently in to shore. Alfie was off his lead and happily scampering around.

‘So … how have you been?’ Max asked.

‘I’m okay, thanks. You?’

‘Great, yeah. So, how’s life at the sharp end of the chocolate industry?’

‘Pretty good. Keeps me busy and on my toes. Now we’re nearly into October, business will start to build for the festive season and the run-up to Christmas is always hectic. I’ll be having a permanent production line on the go in my kitchen.’

‘Sounds interesting. I’m a bit of a chocolate fan.’

Oh, yes. It gets better all the time.

‘Must admit it’s more of a Yorkie bar or a Toffee Crisp with our breaktime bait for me, though,’ he admitted.

‘Hah – you heretic.’

‘I’m sure I could be persuaded to try something more refined.’ He grinned, with a cheeky sparkle in his eye.

Was there an intentional double entendre there? Emma wasn’t quite sure.