Hud opened his mouth to tell her she could do whatever she liked, when she held up a hand, palm forward, and he stopped before the words made it past his larynx.

‘I’m prepared to buy the chlorine, the tile cleaner, pay a portion of your water bill, get on my hands and knees and clean the grout with a toothbrush, anything. I just…’ She stopped to swallow, and for the first time he saw a flutter of vulnerability beneath the resilient exterior. ‘I just need to keep swimming in your pool. If it’s okay with you.’

She made it seem as if she needed it the same way he needed oxygen in his lungs. The same way he needed to find out how to clear his head so that he could get back to work. And the way he had come out here into the misty forest with some strange need to make sure that she was real.

‘Where on earth will you find the time to do all that?’ he asked.

‘I am a fact checker for several regional newspapers. I work freelance. My time management is my own.’

‘Sounds pretty cushy.’

‘Suits me. Not so many rave parties and shoe shops to keep a girl in trouble in Saffron, so one doesn’t need a great deal of money to have a very nice life here.’ She glanced over his shoulder to what was no doubt a gorgeous view of Claudel’s elegant gabled rooftop beyond. ‘Well, I don’t, anyway.’

He didn’t give her the satisfaction of turning. Instead he just waited for her pointed gaze to rock back to his. For suddenly he was having ideas.

Her time was her own. And he had nothing but time. Maybe this woman’s needs and his could work together. He slid his hands into his pockets. ‘So I take it you can type,’ he said.

Her hands slowly let go of the skirt fabric they’d been clinging to until the red and black cotton swished about the tops of her heavy boots. ‘Can I type?’

He nodded.

‘So fast you won’t see my fingers move for the speed. But I don’t see what that has to do with—’

‘I have a story I need to get down on paper,’ he said. ‘And I am a two-finger typist of the worst kind.’

‘You’re a writer? But I thought you were some kind of flashy documentary photographer,’ she said, then her face dropped as she realised she’d given away the fact that she’d done some asking around about him.

‘I am,’ he said, letting her off the hook. ‘But a situation has presented itself that means I need to record some of my more recent experiences.’

That much was true enough. He had been offered a book deal. A lucrative one from a big London publisher. Not that he needed the money. But if that was what it took for his boss to see he was willing and able to get back to work, to the adventures he was missing out on while real life trudged on around him, then that was what he’d do.

‘I see,’ she said, mouth turned down, bottom lip popped out, nodding. Though by the look in her wide open eyes he could tell she couldn’t see the brilliance of his plan at all. The balance. The simpatico.

‘So I have a proposal for you,’ he said.

She stopped nodding. Her eyes narrowed so far they became dark slits of mistrust. For a siren she was turning out to be some kind of hard work. Hud almost backed off. But not quite. For there was something stronger pushing between his shoulder blades again, telling him he had to go through with this. With her.

‘I dictate,’ he said. ‘You type my story. And in return…’

Her arms slid across her chest to cross, creating a shield between them. He bit back the need to laugh. The woman was so guarded she put his clandestine return to Claudel to shame.

So he added, ‘And in return you can use my pool as much as you like.’

She blinked furiously, then a fast breath dashed from her nose. ‘What’s the catch?’

‘There’s no catch. I’ll supply food. A comfy chair. I can get my hands on a new computer if you need me to. It shouldn’t take any longer than, say…two weeks.’

Which was when his crew were due back in London after a shoot in Uzbekistan. And he wanted to be on the next trip out. He needed to be. For, if he wasn’t, he feared he might never get back out there again. And out there was where he belonged.

‘Am I still in charge of its upkeep?’ she asked.

He shook his head. ‘No need. The whole place needs a tidy up. I’ll have to hire a gardener. A backhoe. A mini-skip. Or maybe a magic wand to put things back the way they’re meant to be.’

She nodded. ‘Excellent. Happy with that. But what about after I’ve finished taking notes for you? What kind of deal will I have to make with you then?’

Her arms tightened across her chest, pressing her breasts together until she produced some damn fine cleavage. She glared at him and he tried his hardest to keep eye contact as her hot gaze dared him to even think that she might be thinking something raunchy. But the second the thought entered his mind he could think of little else.