One husky word. It brought her attention to the man sitting on the seat. He’d turned to look at her, his arms lying casually along the back of the bench, legs stretched out in front, ankles crossed. There was a curious stillness about him as he waited for her response.

It would have been rude to ignore him. In London, she’d have done so, would probably have turned back as soon as she’d seen him, but in the country, it was more appropriate to acknowledge him before moving away. She never understood why, there were surely as many criminal types in the country as in the city. Nevertheless, she nodded, said, ‘Hi,’ and trying to be casual, stopped and stared at the water for a moment.

‘Do you have the time?’ the man asked, bringing her focus back to him. She was close enough to see that the eyes fixed on her were an unusual shade of blue, almost turquoise. A striking shade in a handsome face.

She glanced at her watch. ‘It’s five past eight.’

‘Early to be jogging,’ he commented casually, holding her attention.

‘Early to be sitting there too.’ Despite a natural distrust of strangers, she took a step toward him. ‘Are you hoping to see a kingfisher?’

The man’s smile was slow, beguiling. Molly was drawn by it.

‘I saw one,’ he said, lifting his hand and pointing toward the far side of the canal. ‘A minute before you arrived. Wait, and you might see it.’ He took one arm from the back of the seat and patted the space beside him. ‘You can sit, I don’t bite.’

She laughed, the sound a nervous titter she didn’t recognise. With a shake of her head, she walked over and sat. The wooden seat was small, there was room for two, but there was the merest whisper between them. Molly caught the scent of his aftershave and a slight hint of… body odour… no, she corrected herself, it wasn’t the right word… it was the groin-tingling smell of virile masculinity. And it sent a shiver down her spine.

She should have got up and left then and she would have done, she wasn’t Amelia, wasn’t given to fancying or flirting with strange men. Molly would have stood and carried on back to the hotel if she hadn’t felt his eyes on her… those amazing turquoise eyes.

He spoke about seeing the kingfisher, how beautiful it had been, his voice low and melodic, almost hypnotic. And all the time, his eyes stayed on her. She could have turned and met them, but she was afraid to – afraid of the sudden dart of lust that swept through her. She felt the man beside her move closer and turned slightly to see the perfectly-sculpted cheekbones, the delicious curve of his lips – didn’t she deserve such excitement?