“I’m sorry,” he said, placing the offending hand in the small of his back. “That was uncalled for. I shouldn’t have done that.”

Jackie shook her head. “There was no harm in it.” She smiled. “At least we’re both adult enough to know that it couldn’t have been taken any further.”

“Of course not.” He filled up his champagne glass and took a swig. “What would you have done, though?”

“What do you mean?”

“If I had tried to take it further.”

Jackie shifted her glance away from Stephen. He noticed a pinky glow rise to her cheeks, but he had an idea that it was embarrassment, or maybe a flush of excitement that had caused it, rather than anger at his suggestion. “I’m a married woman, Stephen, with three teenage children. You shouldn’t ask me that kind of question.”

Stephen shrugged his shoulders. “Maybe you’re right. I do know, however, that you have been in better form over these past few days than I have ever witnessed in all the time that I’ve known you. The trouble is that I know the reason for that, because you’ve told me—on more than one occasion. When we walked into that restaurant today, I saw men stop eating and turn to look at you, and I can tell you that to be able to draw a Frenchman’s attention away from his food takes some doing. I bet that if you had stopped to tell them that you were the mother of three teenage children, you would have been met by a chorus of ‘Mais ce n’est pas possible!’ I tell you, I was proud to be with you, even though it was under slightly, well, false pretences.”

Jackie smiled at him. “That’s a very kind thing to say.”

“For heaven’s sakes, I’m not being kind! Don’t demean yourself! I’m being ‘kind’ when I go to visit my granny in her sheltered accommodation in Welwyn Garden City. I’m being ‘kind’ when I scratch the tummy of the smelly old spaniel that my parents dote on, even though I’d rather guide it out of the house with a boot. You’ve got a long way to go before I start being kind to you.”

Jackie said nothing and looked away.