Yet somehow her feet wouldn’t move, and she found she was clutching on to her basket full of blackberries, her fingers itching with the unfamiliar need to touch him, to trace the lines of all those intriguing muscles just to make sure he was real, because surely someone that beautiful couldn’t be. She’d certainly never seen a man like this one, still less met anyone who looked the way he did, not in the cafe where she worked in the village, or indeed anywhere in the village, full stop.
She watched as he bent over the small pile of clothes lying on the gravelly beach. He picked up a dark blue T-shirt then, as he straightened, Anna's heart beat even faster as he began to towel himself roughly off.
She should definitely not be looking at him, she reminded herself again. What she should be d
