A Year of Chasing Love. Rosie Chambers

was regarded as a sign of weakness to be exploited, especially by the drivers of the ubiquitous snub-nosed buses who treated all other road users as either invisible or irritating flies.

      As they screeched to a halt at the front steps of the magnificent Phoenicia Hotel overlooking the cinematic Grand Harbour, a whiff of salty sea breeze tickled at Olivia’s nostrils. She allowed her eyes to rest for a moment on the colourful local fishing boats, jostling for attention alongside their sleek luxury yacht cousins and cruise liner rivals, all set against a backdrop of golden spires and fortified bastions.

      ‘Until later, Olivia.’

      Niko deposited her holdall at her feet, then seized her shoulders in a strong, vice-like grip to plant a fragrant kiss on each of her cheeks. Stunned, she watched in silence as he folded his long legs back into the tiny car and sped away, dust billowing up in his slipstream. To her surprise, a sharp blast of homesickness attacked her chest until she realised why – Niko reminded her of Matteo.

      Was that why she had felt so comfortable in his company?

      Collecting her bag, she strode through the hotel’s columned portico into the impressive lobby, taking in its mosaic floor, the stupendously elaborate chandelier overhead, and the sweeping split staircase that had been carpeted in crimson. The room even housed a grand piano, its keys currently silent.

      Check-in was swift and efficient. When she got to her room, she swallowed two painkillers, dragged out the Caribbean-inspired bikini she had purchased especially for the trip, tied up her hair and made her way to the Bastion Pool deck. As she pushed through the wrought-iron gates fashioned in the shape of a peacock and caught her first glimpse of the twinkling aquamarine-blue of the pool set against the cobalt of the Mediterranean Sea, and the island of Manoel beyond, her headache drained from her temples.

      She had taken only three steps into the pool area when the pool guy rushed over to place a mattress and drape the thickest, fluffiest, whitest towel she’d ever seen over a sun-lounger, before offering her a cocktail from the well-stocked bar. On impulse, she ordered a tall glass of rosé and soda with plenty of ice in honour of Hollie and Matteo, tossed her paperback onto the plastic table, dropped her kaftan to the floor and dived into the crystal-clear water.

      Ah, pure unadulterated heaven!

      After twenty lengths in the deserted pool she felt the compacted muscles at the back of her neck and shoulders loosen and her body relax. Thirty minutes later she’d completed her session of water therapy and flopped onto the sun-lounger, totally rejuvenated. She took a couple of sips of the waiting spritzer, lay back, closed her eyes and promptly fell asleep. When she woke, she had a throbbing head and her tongue was stuck to the roof of her mouth.

      Glancing at the watch she had forgotten to remove, she shot up from her recliner. Six o’clock! No way! She only had an hour before Niko would be back to collect her.