By Emma Darcy
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The countryside looked so pretty from the air that the whole trip was an absolute delight, but best of all was the aerial view of St Ives just before they landed. The sea was sparkling, the beaches blazed white, colourfully dotted by the changing tents and deck- chairs and sunbathers and towels; the boats moored inside the harbour lent their picturesque flavour to the scene, and the neat nestling of the village around the waterfront tugged at Genevra's heart. She had lived all her life here. She wondered how she would feel about leaving it when the time came.
Only Luke! It was him! It had to be! The taxi pulled up at her hotel, and Genevra stepped out, sternly telling herself to get her feet back on the ground. She had to be wrong. Christian Nemo had flatly denied being Luke when they had first met. He talked like an American. His eye colour was different. She recited those facts over to herself as she went up to her room, but she could not dispel the power of that wild idea. It kept growing, gathering force, taking over her mind. They had to be one and the same person!
What other reason could he have for not declaring who he was? Maybe he would tell her first thing in the morning. All she really had to do was wait. Her gaze shifted to the bed, and her eyes gloated lovingly over the powerfully muscled body that lay there. Her man, she thought with intense pride. There was something touchingly vulnerable about his nakedness that brought a lump of emotion to her throat. She suddenly remembered his uncertainty tonight when he had come to take her to dinner. He was vulnerable where she was concerned.