Four astounded faces swung round to him.

“Excuse me?” Ian spluttered.

“I’m not repeating myself, Ian.”

“Well,” said Lucie. Her voice wobbled with laughter. “Well.”

God, they were all the worst.

“You could come, too,” Mika said to him, her brown eyes so bright they reminded him of looking directly into the sun. “To the bookshop. If it’ll make you feel better about it.”

That was not what he’d had in mind.

He looked away. “Okay.”

“I could not possibly have come up with a better idea myself,” Ian said gleefully. “I, for one, cannot wait.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Mika had just finished watering the plants in the greenhouse when Jamie came to find her. She set the empty metal watering can on the shelf, checked on the rosemary and shallots she’d planted just last week, and turned back to where she’d left her coat.

And bumped straight into someone’s chest.

She let out a startled yelp and rocked back on her heels, off balance. Jamie’s hands closed around her upper arms at once, steadying her, and the sudden scent of pine needles made her dizzy. Warmth bloomed out from the places where his hands touched her bare skin. She blinked up at him. He let her go very quickly.

“Sorry.” He backed up a couple of steps, into the narrow doorway of the greenhouse. The sun was behind him, making it difficult to see the expression on his face. “I just came to tell you we’re good to go.”

“Wait,” she said, closing the gap between them again and seizing the lapels of his shirt. She inhaled. “Definitely pine needles. And the ocean? What is that?”

He cleared his throat. “My aftershave, I guess?”

“But you don’t shave. Do you? I mean, there’s always that short, bristly shadow on your—” Mika stopped and took two hasty steps back. Her love of all sensory joys had gotten her in awkward situations before, notably that time on a train when she’d reached out to stroke an old lady’s beautiful pashmina without remembering to ask permission first, but this took the cake! Her cheeks grew hot, and she smiled sheepishly. Really, it was impossible not to see the humour in her own mortification. “Um. Sorry. Even after a lifetime of reminding myself, I still forget what is and isn’t socially acceptable behaviour.”

“You’ve met me, haven’t you? I’m not exactly a bastion of socially acceptable behaviour.”

“Well, for what it’s worth, I’m now done sniffing you.” She ran an eye over the greenhouse again, just to give the hummingbird flutter of her heart a minute to calm the hell down.

He watched her. “You have an insect in your hair.”

“Yes, that’s intentional,” said Mika affably. “I find they make wonderful ornaments.”

His eyes lit with unexpected laughter. “I was going to get rid of it, but if it’s there on purpose—”