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.As she gazed idly out of her office window, Trina thought vaguely that the postie had been right – she hadn’t needed her umbrella.The sun shone in a perfectly clear sky.It was a glorious day.It was also going to be a glorious evening if she had anything to do with it…Andrew Bowman came home at just gone eight.Trina waited until ten past before checking her hair and make-up, picking up the parcel, and walking up his path.She took deep breaths and practised what she’d say to him.She rang the doorbell.‘Yes?’ Andrew Bowman yanked the door open and looked down at Trina from his 6 foot-plus.‘Can I help you?’Trina, suddenly dumb-struck, simply nodded.‘I don’t give to charity,’ he snapped, ‘so if you’re collecting for something you’re wasting your time.’‘Er…’ Trina found her tongue and fixed on a cheerful-neighbour smile.‘No, I’m not – I’m from next door –‘‘Yes, I know that.I recognised you,’ Andrew said coldly.‘And?’‘And,’ she said, the smile faltering a little, ‘and the postman couldn’t deliver this parcel to you this morning, so I took it in, and – um – here it is.’She handed the package to him.Andrew Bowman glanced at the hand-written label, glanced again at Trina, then firmly shut the door.‘Well!’ Trina fumed, glaring at the closed door.‘Of all the rude, ungrateful, arrogant, ignorant - !’She hurried back down the path, seething.No wonder there was no Mrs Bowman or any girlfriends.Andrew Bowman was a pig!Embarrassed, Trina ran back into her own house and slammed the door shut behind her.He must have known she liked him! Must have seen the eagerness in her eyes! Must have read it in her eyes! Must have realised by her silly smile…Oooh, how could she have been so blatant? So stupidly obvious?The next morning, the postman was outside when Trina emerged for work.‘Told you so, didn’t I?’ he grinned cheerfully.‘I said you wouldn’t need your brolly yesterday.’Trina, heavy-eyed after a sleepless night of tossing and turning in embarrassment, managed a weak smile.The postman handed her a pile of envelopes – all junk mail and the gas bill.Great.‘You’ll need it today, though,’ he said happily.‘Going to chuck it down later.’‘Really?’ Trina looked wearily at the clear blue sky as she started to slouch off to the bus stop.‘Well, breakfast television says it’ll be fine so I haven’t got my umbrella.It’s not going to rain.It looks great to me.And does the Met Office know about you? You should have a change of career…’It rained.All afternoon.And of course Trina didn’t have her umbrella – or even a decent coat.She left her office at 5 o’clock and was immediately drenched.Rain slopped into her shoes.Strands of hair stuck to her face.Raindrops dripped down her neck.She wondered if she could sue breakfast television.Head-down, she squelched towards the bus-stop and collided with something tall, dark and damp.It was waving an umbrella over her head.Trina blinked the rain from her eyes.For a brief moment she thought it was Andrew Bowman – but this man was a complete stranger.‘Told you need this, didn’t I?’‘Sorry?’ Trina squinted at him as the rain dripped down her nose.‘Do I know you?’‘More or less,’ the man said cheerfully.‘Think uniform, hi-viz jacket, and bicycle…’‘Ah – yes! The Met Office’s loss!’ She looked at him properly for the first time.Somehow she’d just thought of him as The Postman – she hadn’t noticed that he was young and good-looking with lovely dark hair and brown eyes.‘What are you doing here?’‘Shopping,’ he said.‘My car’s over there.I’ll give you a lift home.’Soaked to the skin, she was in no position to argue – and he was rather gorgeous…Gratefully, Trina sank into the passenger seat.‘I’ll try not to drip too much.’‘No problem,’ he grinned at her as he started the engine.‘To be honest, I’ve been dying to talk to you properly.The chat about the weather didn’t seem to be getting us very far… I’m Paul Wood.’‘Trina Saxton’‘I know,’ he laughed.‘I deliver your mail every morning, remember?’They grinned at one another as the car pulled away.Trina settled in her seat thinking how funny life was.How pining after Mr Misery-Guts Andrew Bowman next-door had brought her Paul, the really sweet postie.Smiling to herself, she wondered what Andrew Bowman had made of his surprise package – a book on relationships for the thirty-something singleton.One day, he might even put it to good use, but Trina doubted it.Nor, she thought, exchanging another delicious smile with Paul, did she care.And at least now, she and Andrew Bowman would never get close enough for him to recognise her handwriting…TURKISH DELIGHT‘That‘s not my bag!’ Kat stared in horror at the holdall on the apartment floor.‘Course it is,’ Bex squinted from the balcony.’I grabbed yours and mine off the luggage carousel together.’‘It looks like mine,’ Kat grabbed the bag, ‘but it isn’t! Since when,’ she flicked at the luggage label, ‘has my name been C Kennedy? I knew it was a mistake to let you get the bags!’‘Ooops, sorry - I was in such a rush to get here, I didn’t even look at the labels,’ Bex grinned from the sun-washed balcony.‘Never mind, we’ll ask tour rep to sort it out.The airport’ll bus your bag it over.It’s not the end of the world.’‘Easy for you to say,’ Kat fumed, blinking in the scorching Turkish sun which filled the apartment.‘But my holdall’s got everything in it! Everything!’‘And you’ll get it back as soon as the airport realises they’ve got a lost bag.It’s got the apartment’s address on it.Lighten up,’ Bex grinned, ‘and come and have a look at this! Two pools, three bars, and more gorgeous men than I’ve had hot dinners! And we haven’t even seen the beaches or the clubs yet.’‘And I’m not likely to, am I?’ Kat growled.‘Seeing as I’ve only got the clothes I’m standing up in!’She thumped down on the bed.Great! This was all she needed.She’d known this week’s holiday with Bex was a mistake.They’d been friends since they’d started their hairdressing training together - but Bex’s idea of a holiday was very different from hers
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