En cours de chargement...
Dr. Damian Jacobs had a theory that Fate had a diabolical sense of humour. One that he seldom appreciated. It really liked dangling things in front of him, only to yank them away again. Which is why, as he looked across the café on the V & A Waterfront at the woman in the midst of a raucous group of people, he made no effort to go over and speak to her. The last thing he needed was to stand there, tongue-tied, while everyone else around him chatted and laughed.
Did she live in Cape Town, or was she a tourist? If she were a tourist-and it was difficult to tell, since she'd answered her friend in basic accented, Afrikaans-where was she from? All of those conflicting feelings had made his quiet day implode on itself, and although he'd pretended to be reading, his gaze had kept straying up the beach. Which is how he was instantly aware when she shouted and jumped to her feet.
As she stripped off her shirt and shorts, his brain could make no sense of any of it, until he heard the screams coming from the sailboat, and realized what must have happened.