Thunder On The Reef. Sara Craven

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      Yet, ‘I’ll be seeing you...’ His parting words had not been of separation.

      It was as if he was out there, somewhere, in the velvet darkness, watching her again.

      Macy shivered, and got determinedly to her feet. It was high time she went indoors, and tried to get some rest for what remained of the night. It could be a big day tomorrow. A day when she would need all her wits about her.

      She felt the bath sheet slip a little, and as her hand moved to anchor it more firmly she was suddenly, crazily tempted to let it fall away completely. To walk naked down the winding path between the whispering, fragrant shrubs to the crescent of silver beach. To let the fantasy begun in her dream go on to its ultimate conclusion with the man who must surely be waiting for her—there, on the edge of the sea.

      She stopped, with a sharp gasp, flinging back her head. That, she berated herself, would be a self-betrayal beyond words.

      Because there was no man, no tender, sensuous lover waiting to beguile her into rapture with his words and touch, and she knew it. He’d never really existed at all—always been a figment of her imagination, and she had to remember that.