An afternoon shag is nothing new to me. I’ve been with a great many men in my years and in a lot more daring places than a spa shower. So, why is my heart beating fast and my dick still half hard?

I stare unseeingly out of the window, already missing Laurie’s ready chatter but trying to use the silence to decide how to play this. I want to stay friends with him, but it’s a fact that I don’t usually repeat myself either in court or in bed. I like fucking a man once and then being able to move on to the next one. This situation has all the hallmarks of a disaster.

I’m an idiot, I think morosely.

The taxi stops, pulling me from my thoughts, and Laurie pays the driver before I can get my wallet out. I follow him into the building and the lift. He doesn’t say a word, his gaze focused straight ahead, and I wonder if he’s angry with me. Or planning something that will result in a scene. I try to think of something to say, but the lift opens on our floor, and he bounds out, moving quickly down the corridor.

I gaze after him. What is happening?

He has his keys in the lock before I engage my brain.

“Wait,” I say quickly.

He stops and looks back at me. For a second, he seems almost surprised to find me standing there. As if he forgot me somewhere between the showers and home. It’s a surprisingly irritating feeling being the subject of that regard.

His brow clears. “Are you okay?” he asks.

“I’m fine. Are you?” He stares at me, and I make an awkward gesture as if pointing towards the spa. “After the shower?” I say. “You’re okay with everything, yes?”

He looks confused. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

I scuff my foot into the carpet, feeling like an idiot. “I don’t know,” I finally say crossly.

An expression of concern crosses his face. “Oh no. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I snap. “Just making sure we’re on the same page about it not meaning anything.”

His face clears in relief, and he grins. “Of course, we are. Relax, Mags. It’s fine.”

“You were very quiet on the way here.”

“Oh. Sorry. I was just thinking about a painting I want to do.”

“You were thinking about a painting?” I say incredulously.

He ignores my outburst and looks at the open door longingly. “I’ve just got to…” He gestures to the door.

I wave my hand. “Don’t let me stop you,” I say, sarcasm heavy in my voice.

“Thanks, Mags,” he says cheerfully. “See you soon.”