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Can You Keep A Secret?

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'Anyway,' I say quickly, to change the subject. 'You might like to know that you were wrong

about Jack. I'm going out with him again tonight. It wasn't a disastrous date at all!'

There's no need to add the small detail that we had a big row and I stormed out and he had to

follow me to the bus stop. Because the point is, we're having a second date.

'I wasn't wrong,' says Jemima. 'You just wait. I predict doom.'

I pull a face at her behind her back as she leaves, and start putting on my mascara 'What's the

time?' I say, frowning as I blob a bit on my eyelid.

'Ten to eight,' says Lissy. 'How are you going to get there?'

'Cab.'

Suddenly the buzzer goes, and we both look up.

'He's early,' says Lissy. 'That's a bit weird.'

'He can't be early!' We hurry into the sitting room, and Lissy gets to the window first.

'Oh my God,' she says, looking down to the street below. 'It's Connor.'

'Connor?' I stare at her in horror. 'Connor's here?'

'He's holding a box of stuff. Shall I buzz him up?'

'No! Pretend we're not in!'

'Too late,' says Lissy, and pulls a face. 'Sorry. He's seen me.'

The buzzer sounds again, and we look at each other helplessly.

'OK,' I say at last. 'I'm going down.'

Shit shit shit…

I pelt downstairs and breathlessly open the door. And there, standing on the doorstep, is

Connor, wearing the same martyred expression he had at the office.

'Hi,' he says. 'Here are the things I was telling you about. I thought you might need them.'

'Er, thanks,' I say, grabbing the box, which seems to contain one bottle of L'Oreal shampoo

and some jumper I've never seen in my life. 'I haven't quite sorted out your stuff yet, so I'll

bring it to the office, shall I?'

I dump the box on the stairs, and quickly turn back before Connor thinks I'm inviting him in.

'So, um, thanks,' I say. 'It was really good of you to stop by.'

'No problem,' says Connor. He gives a heavy sigh. 'Emma… I was thinking perhaps we could

use this as an opportunity to talk. Maybe we could have a drink, or supper even.'

'Gosh,' I say brightly. 'I'd love that. I really would. But to be honest, now isn't a completely

brilliant time.'

'Are you going out?' His face falls.

'Um, yes. With Lissy.' I glance surreptitiously at my watch. It's six minutes to eight. 'So

anyway, I'll see you soon. You know, around the office…'

'Why are you so flustered?' Connor is staring at me.

'I'm not flustered!' I say, and lean casually against the doorframe.

'What's wrong?' His eyes narrow suspiciously, and he looks past me into the hall. 'Is

something going on?'

'Connor,' I put a reassuring hand on his arm. 'Nothing's going on. You're imagining things.'

At that moment, Lissy appears behind me at the door.

'Um, Emma, there's a very urgent phone call for you,' she says in a really stilted voice. 'You'd

better come straight away… oh, hello Connor!'

Unfortunately Lissy is the worst liar in the world.

'You're trying to get rid of me!' says Connor, looking from Lissy to me in bewilderment.

'No we're not!' says Lissy, flushing bright red.

'Hang on,' says Connor suddenly, staring at my outfit. 'Hang on a minute. I don't… are you

going on a… date?'

My mind works quickly. If I deny it, we'll probably get into some huge argument. But if I

admit the truth, maybe he'll stalk off in a huff.

'You're right,' I say. 'I've got a date.'

There's a shocked silence.

'I don't believe this,' says Connor, shaking his head, and to my dismay, sinks heavily down

onto the garden wall. I glance at my watch. Three minutes to eight. Shit!

'Connor…'

'You told me there wasn't anyone else! You promised, Emma!'

'There wasn't! But… there is now. And he'll be here soon… Connor, you really don't want to

get into this.' I grab his arm and try to lift him up, but he weighs about twelve stone. 'Connor,

please. Don't make this more painful for everyone.'

'I suppose you're right.' At last Connor gets to his feet. 'I'll go.'

He walks to the gate, his back hunched in defeat, and I feel a pang of guilt, mixed with an

urgent desire for him to hurry. Then, to my horror, he turns back.

'So, who is it?'

'It's… it's someone you don't know,' I say, crossing my fingers behind my back. 'Look, we'll

have lunch soon and have a good talk. Or something, I promise.'

'OK,' says Connor, looking more wounded than ever. 'Fine. I get the message.'

I watch, unable to breathe, as he shuts the gate behind him and walks slowly along the street.

Keep walking, keep walking… don't stop…

As he finally rounds the corner, Jack's silver car appears at the other end of the street.

'Oh my God,' says Lissy, staring at it.

'Don't!' I sink onto the stone wall. 'Lissy, I can't cope with this.'

I feel shaky. I think I need a drink. And I've only got mascara on one set of eyelashes, I

abruptly realize.

The silver car pulls up in front of the house, and out gets the same uniformed driver as before.

He opens the passenger door, and Jack steps out.

'Hi!' he says, looking taken aback to see me. 'Am I late?'

'No! I was just… um… sitting here. You know. Taking in the view.' I gesture across the road,

where I notice for the first time that a man with a huge belly is changing the wheel on his

caravan. 'Anyway!' I say, hastily standing up, 'Actually, I'm not quite ready. Do you want to

come up for a minute?'

'Sure,' says Jack with a smile. 'That would be nice.'

'And send your car away,' I add. 'You weren't supposed to have it!'

'You weren't supposed to be sitting outside your house and catch me out,' retorts Jack with a

grin. 'OK, Daniel, that's it for the night.' He nods to the driver. 'I'm in this lady's hands from

now on.'

'This is Lissy, my flatmate,' I say as the driver gets back into the car. 'Lissy, Jack.'

'Hi,' says Lissy with a self-conscious grin, as they shake hands.

As we make our way up the stairs to our flat, I'm suddenly aware of how narrow they are, and

how the cream paint on the walls is all scuffed, and the carpet smells of cabbage. Jack

probably lives in some enormous grand mansion. He probably has a marble staircase or

something.

But so what? We can't all have marble.

Anyway, it's probably awful. All cold and clattery. You probably trip on it all the time, and it

probably chips really easily-

'Emma, if you want to get ready, I'll fix Jack a drink,' says Lissy, with a smile that says: He's

nice!

'Thanks,' I say, shooting back an 'isn't he?' look. I hurry into my room and hurriedly start

applying mascara to my other eye.

A few moments later there's a little knock at my door.

'Hi!' I say, expecting Lissy. But in comes Jack, holding out a glass of sweet sherry.

'Oh, thanks!' I say gratefully. 'I could do with a drink.'

'I won't come in,' he says politely.

'No, it's fine. Sit down!'

I gesture to the bed, but it's covered with clothes. And my dressing table stool is piled high

with magazines. Damn, I should have tidied up a bit.

'I'll stand,' says Jack with a little smile. He takes a sip of what looks like whisky, and looks

around my room in fascination. 'So this is your room. Your world.'

'Yes.' I flush slightly, unscrewing my lip-gloss. 'It's a bit messy-'

'It's very nice. Very homey.' I can see him taking in the shoes piled in the corner, the fish

mobile hanging from my light, the mirror with necklaces strung over the side, and a new skirt

hanging on the wardrobe door.

'Cancer Research?' he says puzzledly, looking at the label. 'What does that-'

'It's a shop,' I say, a little defiantly. 'A second-hand shop.'

'Ah.' He nods in tactful comprehension. 'Nice bedcover,' he adds, smiling.

'It's ironic,' I say hastily. 'It's an ironic statement.'

God, how embarrassing. I should have changed it.

Now Jack's staring incredulously at my open dressing-table drawer, crammed with makeup.

'How many lipsticks do you have?'

'Er, a few…' I say, hastily closing it.

Maybe it wasn't such a great idea to let Jack come in here. He's picking up my Perfectil

vitamins, and examining them. I mean, what's so interesting about vitamins? Now he's looking

at Katie's crochet belt.

'What's this? A snake?'

'It's a belt,' I say, screwing up my face as I put in an earring. 'I know. It's hideous. I can't stand

crochet.'

Where's my other earring? Where?

Oh, OK, here it is. Now what's Jack doing?

I turn to see him looking in fascination at my exercise chart, which I put up in January after

I'd spent the entire Christmas eating Quality Street.

'"Monday, 7 a.m.",' he reads aloud. '"Brisk jog round block. Forty sit-ups. Lunch time: yoga

class. Evening: Pilates tape. Sixty sit-ups."' He takes a sip of whisky. 'Very impressive. You

do all this?'

'Well,' I say after a pause. 'I don't exactly manage every single … I mean, it was quite an

ambitious… you know… er… Anyway!' I quickly spritz myself with perfume. 'Let's go!'

I have to get him out of here quickly before he does something like spot a Tampax and ask me

what it is. I mean, honestly! Why on earth is he so interested in everything?

FIFTEEN

As we head out into the balmy evening, I feel light and happy with anticipation. Already

there's a completely different atmosphere from yesterday night. No scary cars; no posh

restaurants. It feels more casual. More fun.

'So,' says Jack, as we walk up to the main road. 'An evening out, Emma-style.'

'Absolutely!' I stick out my hand and hail a taxi, and give the name of the road in Clerkenwell

off which the little alley runs.

'We're allowed to go by taxi, are we?' says Jack mildly as we get in. 'We don't have to wait for

a bus?'

'As a very special treat,' I say with mock severity.

'So, are we eating? Drinking? Dancing?' says Jack, as we move off down the street.

'Wait and see!' I beam at him. 'I just thought we could have a really laid-back, spontaneous

evening.'

'I guess I over-planned last night,' says Jack after a pause.

'No, it was lovely!' I say kindly. 'But sometimes you can put too much thought into things.

You know, sometimes it's better just to go with the flow and see what happens.'

'You're right.' Jack smiles. 'Well, I look forward to going with the flow.'

As we whiz along Upper Street, I feel quite proud of myself. It just shows I'm a true Londoner.

I can take my guests to little places off the beaten track. I can find spots which aren't just the

obvious venues to go. I mean, not that Jack's restaurant wasn't amazing. But how much cooler

will this be? A secret club! And I mean, who knows, Madonna might be there this evening!

After about twenty minutes we get to Clerkenwell. I insist on paying the taxi fare, and lead

Jack down the alley.

'Very interesting,' says Jack, looking around. 'So where are we heading?'

'Just wait,' I say enigmatically. I head for the door, press the buzzer and take Lissy's key out of

my pocket with a little frisson of excitement.

He is going to be so impressed. He is going to be so impressed!

'Hello?' comes a voice.

'Hello,' I say casually. 'I'd like to speak to Alexander, please.'

'Who?' says the voice.

'Alexander,' I repeat, and give a knowing smile. Obviously they have to double-check.

'Ees no Alexander here.'

'You don't understand. Al-ex-and-er,' I enunciate clearly.

'Ees no Alexander.'

Maybe I got the wrong door, it suddenly occurs to me. I mean, I remember it as being this one

— but maybe it was this other one with the frosted glass. Yes. That one looks quite familiar,

actually.

'Tiny hitch,' I smile at Jack, and press the new bell.

There's silence. I wait a few minutes, then try again, and again. There's no reply. OK. So…

it's not this one either.

Fuck.

I am a moron. Why didn't I check the address? I was just so sure I'd remember where it was.

'Is there a problem?' says Jack.

'No!' I say at once, and smile brightly. 'I'm just trying to recall exactly…'

I look up and down the street, trying not to panic. Which one was it? Am I going to have to

ring every single doorbell in the street? I take a few steps along the pavement, trying to trigger

my memory. And then, through an arch, I spy another alley, almost identical to this one.

I feel a huge thud of horror. Am I in the right alley, even? I dart forward and peer into the

other alley. It looks exactly the same. Rows of nondescript doors and blanked-out windows.

My heart starts to beat more quickly. What am I going to do? I can't try every single doorbell

in every bloody alley in the vicinity. It never once occurred to me that this might happen. Not

once. I never even thought to-

OK, I'm being stupid. I'll call Lissy! She'll tell me. I pull out my mobile and dial home, but

immediately it clicks onto answerphone.

'Hi, Lissy, it's me,' I say, trying to sound light and casual. 'A tiny little hitch has happened,

which is that I can't remember exactly which door the club is behind. Or actually… which

alley it's in either. So if you get this, could you give me a call? Thanks!'

I look up to see Jack watching me.

'Everything OK?'

'Just a slight glitch,' I say, and give a relaxed little laugh. 'There's this secret club along here

somewhere, but I can't quite remember where.'

'Never mind,' says Jack nicely. 'These things happen.'

I jab the number for home again, but it's engaged. Quickly I dial Lissy's mobile number, but

it's switched off.

Oh fuck. Fuck. We can't stand here in the street all night.

'Emma,' says Jack cautiously. 'Would you like me to make a reservation at-'

'No!' I jump as though stung. Jack's not going to reserve anything. I've said I'll organize this

evening, and I will. 'No thanks. It's OK.' I make a snap decision. 'Change of plan. We'll go to

Antonio's instead.'

'I could call the car…' begins Jack.

'We don't need the car!' I stride purposefully towards the main road and thank God, a taxi's

coming along with its light on. I flag it down, open the door for Jack and say to the driver,

'Hi, Antonio's on Sanderstead Road in Clapham, please.'

Hurrah. I have been grown-up and decisive and saved the situation.

'Where's Antonio's?' says Jack, as the taxi begins to speed away.

'It's a bit out of the way, in south London. But it's really nice. Lissy and I used to go there

when we lived in Wandsworth. It's got huge pine tables, and gorgeous food, and sofas and

stuff. And they never chivvy you.'

'It sounds perfect.' Jack smiles, and I smile proudly back.

OK, it should not take this long to get from Clerkenwell to Clapham. We should have got

there ages ago. I mean, it's only down the road!

After about half an hour, I lean forward and say to the driver yet again, 'Is there a problem?'

'Traffic, love.' He gives an easy shrug. 'What can you do?'

You can find a clever traffic-avoiding back route like taxi drivers are supposed to! I want to

yell furiously. But instead I say politely, 'So… how long do you think it'll be before we get

there?'

'Who knows?'

I sink back on my seat, feeling my stomach churning with frustration.

We should have gone somewhere in Clerkenwell. Or Covent Garden. I am such a moron…

'Emma, don't worry,' says Jack. 'I'm sure it'll be great when we get there.'

'I hope so,' I say with a weak smile.

I can't make small talk. I'm using every ounce of concentration in willing the taxi to go faster.

I stare out of the window, giving an inward cheer every time the postcodes on the street signs

get closer to where we want to be. SW3… SW11… SW4!

At last! We're in Clapham. Nearly there…

Shit. Another bloody red traffic light. I almost can't keep still on my seat And the driver's just

sitting there, like it doesn't matter.

OK, it's green! Go! Go now!

But he's pulling off in this leisurely way, as though we've got all day… he's chuntering down

the street… now he's giving way to another driver! What is he doing?

OK. Calm down, Emma. Here's the street. We're finally here.

'So this is it!' I say, trying to sound relaxed as we get out of the taxi. 'Sorry it took a while.'

'No problem,' says Jack. 'This place looks great!'

As I hand the fare to the taxi driver, I have to admit I'm pretty pleased we came. Antonio's

looks absolutely amazing! There are fairy lights decorating the familiar green facade, and

helium balloons tied to the canopy, and music and laughter spilling out of the open door. I can

even hear people singing inside.

'It's not normally quite this buzzing!' I say with a laugh, and head for the door. I can already

see Antonio standing just inside.

'Hi!' I say as I push the door open. 'Antonio!'

'Emma!' says Antonio, who's standing by the door holding a glass of wine. His cheeks are

flushed and he's beaming even more widely than usual. 'Bellissima!' He kisses me on each

cheek, and I feel a flood of warm relief. I was right to come here. I know the management.

They'll make sure we have a wonderful time.

'This is Jack,' I say, grinning at him.

'Jack! Wonderful to meet you!' Antonio kisses Jack on each cheek too, and I giggle.

'So, could we have a table for two?'

'Ah…' He pulls a face of regret. 'Sweetheart, we're closed!'

'What?' I stare back at him, baffled. 'But… but you're not closed. People are here!' I look

around at all the merry faces.

'It's a private party!' He raises his glass to someone across the room and shouts something in

Italian. 'My nephew's wedding. You ever meet him? Guido. He served here a few summers

ago.'

'I… I'm not sure.'

'He met a lovely girl at the law school. You know, he's qualified now. You ever need legal

advice…'

'Thanks. Well… congratulations.'

'I hope the party goes well,' says Jack, and squeezes my arm briefly. 'Never mind, Emma, you

couldn't have known.'

'Darling, I'm sorry!' says Antonio, seeing my face. 'Another night, I'll give you the best table

we have. You call in advance, you let me know…'

'I'll do that,' I manage a smile. 'Thanks, Antonio.'

I can't even look at Jack. I dragged him all the way down to bloody Clapham for this.

I have to redeem this situation. Quickly.

'We'll go to the pub,' I say as soon as we're outside on the pavement. 'I mean, what's wrong

with just sitting down with a nice drink?'

'Sounds good,' says Jack mildly, and follows me as I hurry down the street to a sign reading

The Nag's Head, and push the door open. I've never been in this pub before, but surely it's

bound to be fairly-

OK. Maybe not.

This has to be the grimmest pub I've ever seen in my life. Threadbare carpet, no music, and

with no signs of life except a single man with a paunch.

I cannot have a date with Jack in here. I just can't.

'Right!' I say, swinging the door shut again, 'Let's think again.' I quickly look up and down the

street, but apart from Antonio's everything is shut except for a couple of grotty takeaway

places and a minicab firm. 'Well… let's just grab a taxi and head back to town!' I say, with a

kind of shrill brightness. 'It won't take too long.'

I stride to the edge of the pavement and stick out my hand.

During the next three minutes not a single car passes by. Not just no taxis. No vehicles at all.

'Kind of quiet,' observes Jack at last.

'Well, this is really a residential area. Antonio's is a bit of a one-off.'

Outwardly, I'm still quite calm. But inside I'm starting to panic. What are we going to do?

Should we try to walk to Clapham High Street? But it's bloody miles away.

I glance at my watch and see with a dart of shock that it's 9.15. We've spent over an hour

faffing about and we haven't even had a drink. And it's all my fault. I can't even organize one

simple evening without it going catastrophically wrong.

Suddenly I want to burst into tears. I want to sink down on the pavement and bury my head in

my hands and sob.

'How about pizza?' says Jack, and my head jerks up in sudden hope.

'Why? Do you know a pizza place round-'

'I see pizza for sale.' He nods at one of the grotty takeaway places. 'And I see a bench.' He

gestures to the other side of the road, where there's a tiny railed garden with paving and trees

and a wooden bench. 'You get the pizza.' He smiles at me. 'I'll save the bench.'

I have never felt so mortified in my entire life. Ever.

Jack Harper takes me to the grandest, poshest restaurant in the world. And I take him to a park

bench in Clapham.

'Here's your pizza,' I say, carrying the hot boxes over to where he's sitting. 'I got margarita,

ham and mushroom and pepperoni.'

I can't quite believe this is going to be our supper. I mean, they aren't even nice pizzas. They

aren't even gourmet, roasted-artichoke type of pizzas. They're just cheap slabs of dough pastry

with melted, congealed cheese, and a few dodgy toppings.

'Perfect,' says Jack with a smile. He takes a large bite, then reaches into his inside pocket.

'Now, this was supposed to be your going home present, but since we're here…'

I gape as he produces a small, stainless steel cocktail shaker and two matching cups. He

unscrews the top of the shaker and to my astonishment, pours a pink, transparent liquid into

each cup.

Is that…

'I don't believe it!' I gaze at him, wide-eyed.

'Well, come on. I couldn't let you wonder all your life what it tasted like, could I?' He hands

me a cup and raises his towards me. 'Your good health.'

'Cheers.' I take a sip of the cocktail… and oh my God it's yummy. Sharp and sweet, with a

kick of vodka.

'Good?'

'Delicious!' I say, and take another sip.

He's being so nice to me. He's pretending he's having a good time. But what does he think

inside? He must despise me. He must think I'm a complete and utter dizzy cow.

'Emma, are you OK?'

'Not really,' I say in a thick voice. 'Jack, I'm so sorry. I really am. I honestly had it all planned.

We were going to go to this really cool club where celebrities go, and it was going to be really

good fun…'

'Emma.' Jack puts his drink down and looks at me. 'I wanted to spend this evening with you.

And that's what we're doing.'

'Yes. But-'

'That's what we're doing,' he repeats firmly.

Slowly he leans towards me and my heart starts to pound. Oh my God. Oh my God. He's

going to kiss me. He's going to-

'Arrgh! Arrgh! Arrrgh!'

I leap up off the bench in total panic. A spider is running up my leg. A big black spider. 'Get it

off!' I say, frantically.'Get it off!'

With one brisk swipe, Jack brushes the spider off onto the grass, and I subside back on the

bench, my heart racing.

And of course, the mood's completely ruined. Great. Just marvellous. Jack tries to kiss me and

I shriek in horror. I'm really doing splendidly tonight.

Why was I so pathetic? I think furiously. Why did I scream? I should have just gritted my

teeth!

Not literally gritted my teeth, obviously. But I should have been cool. In fact, I should have

been so swept away that I didn't even notice the spider.

'I don't suppose you're afraid of spiders,' I say to Jack, giving an awkward laugh. 'I don't

suppose you're afraid of anything.'

Jack gives a noncommittal little smile in return.

'Are you afraid of anything?' I persist.

'Real men don't get afraid,' he says jokily.

In spite of myself, I feel a tiny prickle of discontent. Jack's not the best person in the world at

talking about himself.

'So, where did you get this scar?' I ask, gesturing to his wrist.

'It's a long, boring story.' He smiles. 'You don't want to hear it.'

I do! my mind immediately says. I do want to hear it. But I just smile, and take another sip of

my drink.

Now he's just staring ahead into the distance, as if I'm not even there.

Did he forget about kissing me?

Should I kiss him? No. No.

'Pete loved spiders,' he says suddenly. 'Kept them as pets. Huge, furry ones. And snakes.'

'Really?' I pull a face.

'Crazy. He was a crazy fucking guy.' He exhales sharply.

'You… still miss him,' I say hesitantly.

'Yes. I still miss him.'

There's another silence. In the distance I can hear a group of people leaving Antonio's,

shouting to each other in Italian.

'Did he leave any family?' I say cautiously, and immediately Jack's face closes up.

'Some,' he says.

'Do you see them still?'

'Occasionally.' He exhales sharply, then turns and smiles. 'You have tomato sauce on your

chin.' As he reaches up to wipe it away, he meets my eyes. Slowly, he's bending towards me.

Oh my God. This is it, this is really it. This is-'

'Jack.'

We both leap in shock, and I drop my cocktail on the ground. I turn round, and stare in utter

disbelief. Sven is standing at the gate of the tiny garden.

What the bloody fuck is Sven doing here?

'Great timing,' murmurs Jack. 'Hi, Sven.'

'But… but what's he doing here?' I stare at Jack. 'How did he know where we were?'

'He called while you were getting the pizza.' Jack sighs and rubs his face. 'I didn't know he'd

get here this quickly. Emma… something's come up. I need to have a quick word with him. I

promise it won't take long. OK?'

'OK,' I say with a little shrug. After all, what else can I say? But inside, my whole body is

pulsing in frustration, bordering on anger. Trying to keep calm, I reach for the cocktail shaker,

pour the remains of the pink cocktail into my cup and take a deep swig.

Jack and Sven are standing by the gate having an animated conversation in low voices. I take

a sip of cocktail and casually shift along the bench so I can hear better.

'… what to do from here…'

'… plan B… back up to Glasgow…'

'… urgent…'

I look up and find myself meeting Sven's eye. Quickly I look away again, pretending to be

studying the ground. Their voices descend even lower, and I can't hear a word. Then Jack

breaks off and comes towards me.

'Emma… I'm really sorry about this. But I'm going to have to go.'

'Go?' I stare at him in dismay. 'What, now?'

'I'm going to have to go away for a few days. I'm sorry.' He sits down beside me on the bench.

'But… it's pretty important.'

'Oh. Oh, right.'

'Sven's ordered a car for you to take you home.'

Great, I think savagely. Thanks a lot, Sven.

'That was really… thoughtful of him,' I say, and trace a pattern in the dirt with my shoe.

'Emma, I really have to go,' says Jack, seeing my face. 'But I'll see you when I get back, OK?

At the Corporate Family Day. And we'll… take it from there.'

'OK.' I try to smile. 'That would be great.'

'I had a good time tonight.'

'So did I,' I say, staring down at the bench. 'I had a really good time.'

'We'll have a good time again.' Gently he lifts my chin until I'm looking straight at him, 'I

promise, Emma.'

He leans forward and this time there's no hesitation. His mouth lands on mine, sweet and firm.

He's kissing me. Jack Harper is kissing me on a park bench.

His mouth is opening mine, his stubble is rough against my face. His arm creeps around me

and pulls me towards him, and my breath catches in my throat. I find myself reaching under

his jacket, feeling the ridges of muscle beneath his shirt, wanting to rip it off. Oh God, I want

this. I want more.

Suddenly he pulls away, and I feel as if I've been wrenched out of a dream.

'Emma, I have to go.'

My mouth is prickly wet. I can still feel his skin on mine. My entire body is throbbing. This

can't be the end. It can't.

'Don't go,' I hear myself saying thickly. 'Half an hour.'

What am I suggesting? That we do it under a bush?

Frankly, yes. Anywhere would do. I have never in my life been so desperate for a man.

'I don't want to go.' His dark eyes are almost opaque. 'But I have to.' He takes my hand, and I

cling onto his, trying to prolong contact for as long as possible.

'So… I'll… I'll see you.' I can barely talk properly.

'I can't wait.'

'Neither can I.'

'Jack.' We both look up to see Sven at the gate.


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