‘Me or the brownies?’ he’d replied.

She had been right about the weather. Almost. They’d enjoyed an hour or so of warm sunshine before the first drops of rain splattered on to their picnic. They’d packed up quickly and run for shelter. Sarah had giggled as they’d splashed through puddles of water. Jameson remembered taking her hand and feeling her lace her fingers through his.

They’d spent the afternoon in a bar and then, when he thought she’d make her excuses and leave, she’d suggested dinner, and then they were heading back to his. The rest, as they say, is history.

Sarah opened one eye and smiled. ‘Hi.’

‘Morning,’ he replied. ‘How are you?’

‘Comfy.’

‘Good. I like the women in my bed to feel comfy.’

Sarah closed her eyes. ‘You make it sound like there’ve been dozens of women in here.’

‘I realized something last night,’ he said, knowing to ignore the silent question in her statement. ‘You aren’t a good girl at all.’

Sarah rolled on to her back and smiled. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

Later, as they sat at the breakfast bar eating toasted crumpets with butter, Jane’s appeal came on the radio. Jameson turned it up. There was nothing new, just the same request for information.

‘She’s a friend of the family,’ Jameson explained as he turned the volume down again.

‘I’m so sorry.’ Sarah placed her mug down. ‘What do they think happened?’

‘We think her mum might have taken her. She’s going through a rough patch. It’s hard to explain.’

‘Is she ill?’

‘Well, she’s not normal, that’s for sure.’ He clocked Sarah’s expression and elaborated. ‘She has a history of drink and drugs. She’s not been the most responsible parent.’

‘Well, at least with her mum it’s better’ – Sarah paused – ‘than someone else taking her.’

‘I really hope you’re right.’ Jameson kissed the top of Sarah’s head. ‘Let’s change the subject. I want to hear more about those secrets you don’t have.’

‘Is it related to your work? To your research?’

‘Why would you think that?’ he asked.

‘You get this haunted look on your face when you talk about your job – or should I say, when you don’t talk about your job – and you have it again now.’

He must be losing his touch. He used to be better than this. Or maybe it was Sarah. He found himself wanting to confide in her and that had never happened before.

‘You’re not trying one of those staring competitions again, are you? Because I should warn you, Marcus, I’ve been practising.’

The sound of his name on her lips made the muscles in his stomach clench.

‘Practising with who?’

Her lips twitched. ‘That would be telling.’

‘So we both have secrets. I knew it.’

‘You admit you’re keeping secrets?’