“What do you mean? I don’t understand.” Please let it be a mistake. She couldn’t spend her holiday with Harvey. They might actually kill each other.

“We’ll be working together for a couple of weeks,” he said in confirmation, as if in no way concerned.

“You have got to be kidding me.”

“I’m afraid not,” Harvey said, starting the ignition. Then, leaning close, he added, “Love me or hate me, you’re kind of stuck with me for a while.”

Her lovely fortnight of sun and surgery, of giving something back to her Fijian counterparts before returning to her job in New Zealand refreshed and reinvigorated, dissolved before her eyes. Oh, she’d stick it out. If he could put up with her, she would put up with him.

But two weeks working with her professional rival? Two weeks trapped on an island with a man she knew intimately? Two weeks reminded of that incredible night in his bed when she hadn’t had so much as a chaste peck on the cheek since...?

It sounded more like a prison sentence than a holiday.