Before he could go on, Irena leaned forward and kissed him. Instantly aroused, Frank leapt to his feet.

‘You can deny, but I know you feel something for me,’ Irena said, her gaze intense as she too stood up. ‘You have guilt because of wife, but she is gone and I am here, so please do not push me away.’

Frank raked his fingers through his hair and backed away from her. He had given himself a good talking to before going to sleep last night, and he’d truly thought he had got his emotions under control when he woke this morning. Irena was beautiful and, at thirty-six to his sixty, the age-gap wasn’t so great as to make a relationship completely unthinkable. But her being here had caused a rift between him and his children, and he had to put them first.

‘Frankie, look at me,’ Irena urged, cupping his cheek in her hand. ‘I did not expect to feel love when I meet you, but it happen, and I cannot leave without tell you this. If there is chance you can ever feel same, let me stay for few more days. If you do not want me after this, I will leave and you will never hear from me again.’

Frank squeezed his eyes shut. You’ve got to stop this, he told himself. Why? another voice argued. She wants you, and you want her, so what’s the problem?

When he still hadn’t spoken a few seconds later, Irena sighed and dropped her hand.

‘Is OK. Your silence has answer for you.’

‘Wait,’ Frank said when she turned to walk out.

She paused and gazed back at him.

‘Yes?’

‘Don’t go,’ he said. ‘Not yet, anyway. You’re right, I do feel something. I’ve tried not to, I really have, but it’s not working. And I know we haven’t known each other long, and my kids will probably never speak to me again, but—’

‘Stop talk,’ Irena said, walking up to him and looping her arms around his neck. ‘You have already say everything I need to hear.’

Their lips connected, and Frank went into an immediate state of turmoil: his body craving the intimacy after two – or was it closer to three? He honestly couldn’t remember – years of celibacy; his head warning him that his already damaged relationship with his children would undoubtedly disintegrate even further if he went ahead with this.

His touch-starved body won and, no longer trying to resist, he walked Irena backwards through the hall and into the living room, their lips still locked together, their hands unbuttoning and unzipping their clothes as they went.

Lying on top of her on the rug in front of the fire a few seconds later, Frank hesitated, and asked, ‘Are you sure about this?’

‘I thought I tell you to stop talk,’ she replied huskily, pulling him into her.