“Yes, the moment.” Alice got a sharp pain thinking about Libby. “I refuse to unwittingly cause another woman pain. And if I find out that you’re seeing someone and still sleeping with me, your tackle will be in grave danger from my very blunt palette knife.”

Dan instinctively crossed his legs. “Noted.”

“Good.”

Alice had never been particularly forward when it came to sex, but perhaps Dan had a point—there was nothing at stake here, nothing to complicate things. She picked up the napkin and folded it in half before shoving it into her pocket. Then she pushed the raffle ticket book in front of Dan.

“Buy the meat raffle tickets and we have a deal.”

“Excellent.” Dan took out his wallet. “When do you finish?”

“In five minutes.”

“Any chance you’re free for dinner?”

“You know, I’m not that hungry for food. Are you?”

“I like the way you think, Alice.”

His smile was long and slow—pure seduction— and she gave herself over to its delicious effects. A dart of desire made her press her legs together and she laughed. This idea might just work.

Chapter Twelve

May

Libby saw Florence Jeffers out, but instead of calling in her next patient, she popped back into her office and punched in the now familiar numbers. With each ring, her heart beat faster, pumping adrenaline to all points.

“Hi, you’ve called Nick Pirelli.” The recording of her husband’s deep and friendly voice came down the line. “Sorry I can’t come to the phone right now. Please leave a message or call Pirellis’ Boat Hire and Fishing on …”

At breakfast, Nick had told her that apart from lunch with his parents, he’d be in the office all day. It was 10:40—far too early for lunch. She disconnected the call and called the office. “Hi, Missy.”

“Hi, Libby.”

Before the apocalypse, if Libby ever had a reason to the boat office, the backpacker had always said, “How can I help?” Now Libby phones six times a day, Missy just said, “I’ll put you through to Nick.”

The breath Libby had been holding released a little. The phone rang a couple of times, then her husband picked up.

“Hi.” The greeting was imbued with caution—so much of Nick’s conversations were these days.

“Hi. You’re at the office.”

“Yes. I said I’d be here all day except for lunch and the coffee run.”

“You didn’t mention the coffee run.”

His sharp intake of breath whistled down the line. “Surely, I don’t have to tell you that? I’ve been doing the coffee run on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays for years.”

Yes, but that was when I trusted you implicitly—before you did something so hurtful it changed everything. Before you turned me from a stable, functioning woman into the doubting and suspicious one I hardly recognize.

“Where were you two minutes ago?”

“What?”

“You didn’t answer your cell.”