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‘Nevertheless,’ he said, as the scent of fish and creamed spinach wafted up, making him feel both hungry and vaguely ill, ‘I had no business —’

‘Harry, there’s no need. Look . . .’ She spontaneously leaned towards him and kissed his cheek. ‘There we go. Friends do touch, you know,’ she said, shrugging. ‘Nothing to feel odd about.’

But Harry could see in her face, lit now only by diffused light, that she was telling a lie and they were both trapped in tension created by a blooming of desire. He could feel the shape of her lips against his freshly shaved face and although he knew it was wrong, he wanted to feel them once again, but next time on his mouth.

14

His sudden and unexpected touch had sent a thrilling pulse through her that, coupled with Matthew’s absence, had somehow shaped her mood to flirtatious. Without Harry’s presence she would have got through tonight’s disappointment over her husband’s prolonged absence most likely with a bath to help soak away her sorrows and then soothed herself to sleep, dreaming of ideas for chocolate. But this feeling of skin on skin was instantly erotic and deeply unsettling.

No matter her public face, she could hardly deny to herself her attraction to Harry. The sweep of licorice-coloured hair that he had slicked back neatly tonight was threatening to topple forward beneath the burden of its own thickness. Witnessing this battle alone was desperately alluring and she defied any woman not to want to reach for that hair and run her fingers through it to settle it back into place. She felt his gaze like velvet caressing her in a manner that spoke of sensuality and ardour. What had possessed her to place her lips against his cheek with such careless affection? In that moment it had seemed an ideal steadier to his worried apology but she couldn’t persuade herself now that he’d read it as innocent. And if she were honest, it possessed the quality he sensed . . . one of powerful attraction, a need to press close, to touch again, to give in to all the nerves jangling on the precipice of desire. She hated the weakness of wanting to topple into that gaze and be lost for a while.

Alex was aware how they now stood awkwardly: him watching her while she did her best to appear distracted by the food. She needed to move again and made a decision in the same second he did; reaching for a plate their hands touched once more, this time forcing both to withdraw as if stung by angry wasps.

He sighed and stepped back from the table. ‘Can I be honest?’

She breathed out. ‘Please.’ She’d tried to make it sound effortless but what occurred was a forced gesture and her tone was far from easy – if anything, she heard a choke in it. ‘Do,’ she tried again.

‘Alex, I think I will be doing us both an enormous service if I thank you, bid you goodnight and leave you to make apologies to Norma. Use any excuse you please. Look, I can lift the receiver on your phone, if you’ll permit, and I shall make a pretend call and then we can say that I had to rush away.’

Her frown had deepened as he’d thrown all of this at her. More out of reaction than good sense, her reply sounded particularly dense. ‘But why?’ Clearly, they both knew why.

‘We both know why,’ he said, as if hearing the echo of her thoughts and bouncing it back at her. ‘Another few minutes and you’ll regret we met.’

She didn’t want him to leave. He was feeling like a drug in this moment. She needed to have just a little more to numb the disappointment of her marriage, which was not desperately unhappy but so far from deliriously happy that it could only be described as neutral. And she couldn’t think of a worse description about anything she might be connected with. Neutral was surely damning. No highs, no lows, no arguments, no genuine joy, little intimacy or passion. There was amusement, conversation, mutual respect. She’d swap all three for a night in the arms of a man like Harry. The revelation came hard and without warning to make her gasp. She stammered a response. ‘I d-don’t agree,’ she said, naked feelings surfacing and dodging her usual filter; she should have just accepted his offer and politely wished him goodnight and a happy life.

Instead she watched the angle of his jaw beneath his ear grind, and wanted to trace its line with a finger to calm it. His voice sounded raw as he explained, going straight to the heart of their dilemma. ‘As a single man I have nothing to lose. You have everything at stake and I couldn’t bear to hurt you.’

And in that instant of both pain of realisation at the lacklustre private life she led, coupled with a helpless and sudden longing for this relative stranger, she no longer cared. If Matthew didn’t keep up appearances, why should she?

‘Harry?’

‘Yes?’

‘Ignore your upbringing and mine. Hold me and just do whatever it is you’re trying to avoid.’

His eyes of silvery green darkened and narrowed. He didn’t move fast as she’d anticipated he might have at her wanton invitation. Instead he took a single step closer until the waterfall frill of her blouse was flattened and she could feel the press of his body against her.

And he waited, gazing at her as if needing to fix the planes of her face and the colour of her eyes into his memory; she wasn’t used to looking up at a man, and why did that sense of dense, strong maleness feel so good? Wasn’t she supposed to be an independent woman who needed no man, not even her absent husband, to help fill her life? Alex recalled something Matthew had once said to her: There’s no accounting for what lust can do to one’s sensibilities. She knew he hadn’t been referring to her when he’d made the remark. Lust. She’d never felt it for anyone. Passion she felt for chocolate. Desire she felt for her ambition. Affection she felt for Matthew. Love for her family, and she reserved that it would be lavished on children once they came, although that required desire . . . intimacy.

However, the idea of a sudden rush of carnal need was disturbing in every sense of that word. Her focus was dropped to the flat, hard breadth of his body; Matthew was narrower, corpulent by comparison. Tentatively she reached to place her palm against Harry’s unyielding rib cage that was sculpted beneath warm, firm flesh and the arousal it pulsed through her from throat to thigh was so fast it trapped itself as a breath of sighing pleasure. She could feel the dull thud of his heart quickening within the chamber of his chest and knew he was feeling the sensuality of the moment right alongside her.

‘What are you thinking?’ he murmured in a voice that was suddenly raspy, his breath stirring her hair. Still she wouldn’t look up.

Be honest! ‘Of Matthew,’ she answered.

Now she felt him become so still she could believe even his heart had paused momentarily. ‘I understand,’ he said, and Alex sensed his body about to create a gap between them.

‘No, you don’t understand,’ she urged, pulling him nearer still, fingers of both hands bunching the jacket in fists to haul him close enough that she could now feel him in a dazzling and salacious few moments against the full length of her body. ‘Matthew feels soft in all the places that you feel hard.’

‘All the places?’ he repeated in arched query. He risked an arm stealing around to encircle her, pressing his hand into the small of her back so she could feel precisely what he meant her to.

If it was possible to feel any more lewd in this moment, she couldn’t imagine it. And the best part was she loved how raw and out of control she felt. ‘If Norma walked in now,’ she began, ‘I —’

‘If Norma walked in now, we’d have to dance and stay in motion so she never catches on to the overt display of sinful thoughts I’m having.’

Alex couldn’t remember a time of such wickedly enjoyable laughter that exploded from her. His hushing only made it worse.

‘I mean it. We’ll have to face the wall, start the Military Two-step and never turn around until she leaves.’