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‘It would be nice not to cook,’ Bryony agreed, and Jack stood up.

‘That’s decided, then. Indian it is. What do you want?’

Bryony shrugged. ‘You choose.’

So he did and the food arrived half an hour later and was wonderful.

They were well into the bottle of wine when they heard Lizzie’s screams.

Both of them sprinted to her bedroom to find her sobbing and clutching her mermaid, her face blotched with tears.

‘I keep thinking of Annie.’

Bryony cuddled her close, rocking her gently. ‘Well, of course you do, darling. Annie is your friend. She’s going to be fine, Lizzie.’

As she said the words she prayed that she was right. If anything happened to Annie…

Eventually Lizzie calmed down and fell asleep again and the two of them tiptoed back to the kitchen.

Bryony felt totally stressed and she was seriously worried about the effect of the accident on her daughter. As Jack had rightly said, she’d actually seen it happen. What sort of impact would that have on her in the long term?

She desperately wanted to lean on Jack but she couldn’t bring herself to ask him for the hug she so badly needed.

And then he looked at her and she knew he felt the same way. ‘I hate Bonfire Night.’

His voice was hoarse and for the first time Bryony caught a glimpse of the strain he must have been under.

She gave a little frown. ‘We forget about you, Jack,’ she said softly, stepping up to him and looking at him with concern in her eyes. ‘You always seem so strong—so much the one in charge. Everyone else is panicking and flapping and you’re so calm. It’s easy to forget that you can be affected by things, too.’

‘Hey.’ He gave a sexy grin that belied the strain in his eyes. ‘I’m Mr Tough.’

She smiled. ‘Well, would Mr Tough like a cup of coffee?’

‘As I’m not driving, I’d rather finish the wine,’ he admitted ruefully, reaching for his glass. ‘Do you mind me staying?’

‘Of course not,’ she said blithely, wondering why her heart was thumping so hard. Jack had stayed in her cottage on numerous occasions. Why did this time feel different?

‘I’ll get you some stuff ready,’ she said formally, and he reached out and grabbed her arm.

‘Don’t bother. I don’t wear anything in bed anyway.’

Bryony swallowed hard, trying to dispel the mental image of Jack naked in her spare room.

For a woman who was not supposed to be thinking about Jack Rothwell, she was failing dismally.

‘Jack…’

‘What I really need is a hug.’ Without waiting for a response, he hauled her against him and she went into his arms, feeling the softness of his jumper covering the hard muscle of his chest and the strength of his arms as he held her. He gave a groan and tightened his hold, burying his face in her hair.

Bryony could hardly breathe. She felt the steady thud of his heart against her flushed cheek, felt her whole body tingle in response to the feel of his body against hers. He felt strong and safe and deliciously male.

They stood like that for a moment and she closed her eyes, wishing that it could last for ever. Wishing that it could lead to something more.

And then gradually his grip on her loosened and his hands slid slowly up her arms. His strong fingers curled into her shoulders and he looked down at her, his blue eyes suddenly intent on her face.

A warmth spread slowly through her pelvis and her whole body melted with longing.

She felt his fingers tighten, saw something flicker in his eyes and then his head lowered towards hers.