‘You go on up,’ he told Liza. ‘Turn right at the top of the stairs. Third door on the left. Pauline, you can make me a coffee.’

Behind her, Liza heard Pauline saying with exaggerated patience, ‘Mr Berenger, my job is to take care of your son. I’m not employed to run around making you coffee.’

‘All right, all right,’ Leo sounded irritable, ‘make one for yourself then. And just do one for me as well while you’re there.’

Liza opened the door, slid noiselessly into the bedroom and closed the door again behind her.

Kit was still asleep.

A splayed-open Dick Francis paperback lay on the chair pulled up next to the bed. Removing it, Liza sat down and gazed at Kit’s face.

He was thinner, and paler, but she had expected that. What she hadn’t imagined was that he would look even more heartstoppingly handsome than she remembered. Every curve and angle of his face seemed somehow more perfect. His hair seemed glossier and thicker. Even his dark eyelashes seemed longer.

Liza realised she was holding her breath. She mustn’t disturb him. Still shaking, she leaned forward, closer to the bed.

Kit opened his eyes.

He blinked.

‘Are you having an affair with Noel Edmonds?’

‘No.’

‘So why are you wearing one of his jumpers?’

The smile was the same. It was still quirky and totally irresistible, and it still had the ability to make her stomach turn helpless somersaults.

Liza sat up, pulled the turquoise and white zigzagged sweater over her head and put it on the bedside table.

‘That’s better.’ Kit eyed her vest, appreciating the way the black Lycra clung to her golden breasts.

‘I’d be careful if ‘I were you,’ said Liza, her voice not quite steady. ‘If I tell my mother you commented on my jumper she’ll knit one for you too.’

Kit smiled again. Then he reached for her hand. ‘Are you really here?’

‘I’m really here.’

‘How?’

‘Your father came down to Devon. We’ve just driven back.’

‘My father.’ Kit sounded amused. He shook his head slightly. ‘Can you believe that man? He kidnapped me. Did you even know I was in America?’

‘No. No one knew,’ said Liza. ‘Not even the police. They were mad as hell.’

‘I couldn’t even phone you.’ Kit stroked her hand. ‘I tried to bribe the nurses but he’d got to them first. It was like being in Colditz. ‘I swear, ‘I used to dream of tunnelling out.’

‘You’re out now,’ whispered Liza.

He reached up and touched the side of her face. She leaned against his hand, knowing he could feel the pulse hammering frantically away in her jaw.

‘Something else ‘I used to dream about. Kissing you again.’

‘Are you up to it?’

‘I don’t care if I’m bloody up to it or not. Just get on with it,’ Kit murmured. ‘It’s New Year’s Eve, isn’t it? Kissing the woman you love is what you do on New Year’s Eve. Except’ — he hesitated — ‘hang on, let me take that Sugar Puff out of your hair first ...’