A Perfect Cornish Escape by Phillipa Ashley Page 0,38

from me?’

‘Er …’ His composure wobbled for a second – a moment that sent an electric jolt through her. Already pumped with adrenaline, her legs went wobbly. ‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean I don’t know why you bid for me. Is it to humiliate me?’

‘If you think I’d do that,’ he said quietly, ‘you don’t know me.’

‘Well, as you’ve just paid to spend a whole day with me, I’ll have plenty of time to get to know you, won’t I?’ Tiff shot back.

‘Hmm … although I’m not sure there’ll be much time for talking …’

Her skin prickled and tingled. ‘What do you mean? What the hell have you got in mind?’

‘That would be telling! I presume you have next Sunday off?’

‘Yes …’

‘Come round to the cottage at seven.’

‘Seven a.m. on a Sunday? My God, you do want your pound of flesh.’

He grinned. ‘You’ve got that one right. See you then.’

‘Aren’t you going to give me a clue?’

‘I think it will be a lot more fun if it’s a surprise.’ A buzzing came from his jeans. ‘Sorry. Must go. We’ve got a shout.’

And with that, Tiff was abandoned on the quayside as the klaxon on the lifeboat station blared out and women and men rushed past her from every direction.

Chapter Ten

‘Westerly wind four to five. Seas slight to moderate …’

Gareth relayed the weather report to a yacht that was on its way into Porthmellow. Sometimes vessels phoned the station on their own dedicated channel to receive the latest local conditions, knowing they’d be up to the minute.

Marina was pleased with his progress; he’d lost some of his excitability and was more professional in his responses to radio calls. He’d almost finished his formal training and was approaching the stage where, if she had no choice, he could be left alone in the station. Solo watching was never ideal, and they always aimed to have two of them, but one was better than none. The day that no one was there was the day when disaster was bound to strike.

Talking of disaster … Marina’s thoughts drifted to Lachlan and his reaction to the helicopter fly-past. She’d spotted him a few times since the fundraiser but, however much she’d wanted to ask him how he was, there never seemed to be a good moment. The first time, she’d seen him outside Aaron’s office in the back streets of Porthmellow when she’d been in her car, and had waved, but he hadn’t seen her.

She’d seen him yet again as he’d been jogging towards his cottage. He definitely saw her that time but didn’t even smile and rushed inside. She wondered whether to push a note through the door but came to the conclusion he wanted to forget all about the incident.

Apart from Lachlan’s meltdown, the fundraiser had gone well and the Wave Watchers and the lifeboat crew now had some money in the kitty to help them keep going. Funds had been boosted by the addition of Tiff’s auction lots. A businessman who was on holiday had forked out a grand for the Ed Sheeran package and, after the event, Tiff’s editor friend had come up with two hospitality tickets to an England Test match. They’d sold them on eBay and had raked in another eight hundred pounds.

Then there was Tiff’s own personal ‘lot’. Marina still broke out in a grin when she recalled the look on her cousin’s face the moment Evie’s gavel had banged down.

It had taken a stiff G&T and a lot of swear words before Tiff had finally calmed down. Marina wondered what Dirk had in mind: probably nothing, if the truth were known. He most likely wanted to wind up Tiff while making a donation. Still, tongues were wagging all around town. No one could be in any doubt of the chemistry between the two of them, even if it was of the kind that might end in an almighty explosion.

When the relief crew arrived at the lookout station in the shape of Doreen and Trevor, who were retired hoteliers, Marina trudged home. With Tiff out, she sat down with some tea and opened the latest letters from her solicitor discussing her options as the seventh anniversary of Nate’s disappearance drew nearer.

Even after so long, reading legal language about her loss felt cold and formal. She felt as if she was hammering the final nail in his coffin and it would be a sad day, not only for her but for his few remaining relatives and friends. Filing the