Taking a seldom-used path up the mountain behind the camp, she walked very quickly, enjoying the wind in her hair and the sting of cool air against her face. She came to a densely wooded area where the wind hardly penetrated, but, by the time she emerged from the trees on to almost barren cliff, the wind was blowing much harder. 'Alison! Alison, wait! Alison...' She did not know quite when she realised that someone was shouting her name. Pausing, she looked back—and there was Clint. Clint? The breath stopped quite suddenly in her lungs. She had not even known he was back. Reaching her, he gripped her shoulders in his hands. His eyes were sparkling and his hair was as windblown as her own. So attractive did he look that Alison's pulses began to beat a crazy tattoo that was becoming rapidly familiar. Deep inside her pleasure burgeoned. It was a pleasure that seemed centred in the very core of her being. She was unable to keep the sparkle from her own eyes. 'Clint! When did you get back?' she asked.
