After her conversation with James, she understood this was about him being lonely and needing somebody to lavish attention on, and she felt more comfortable about the situation. It was sad that he’d got to the age of forty-five and was alone, nobody to share his life with, but that wasn’t her problem. He knew their deal was nearing its end, which meant this was the last time they’d be having dinner together and despite everything, that made her a little despondent. Once she’d got over her initial nerves, it had been nice to get out of the house on her own, nice to experience the company of a different type of man to her husband. And if she was being honest, she’d miss James’s attentiveness.

A pleasant and slightly strange interlude, she told herself. She’d still see him at work; Matt couldn’t argue with that. They could still do lunch, if they were careful. Friends. It was a thought that warmed her heart, because James had added a new dimension to her life that she rather enjoyed. Innocent bordering on the illicit.

When she nearly fell asleep in her dessert for the second time, she remembered the therapist’s warning that she might feel weary after the massage, something to do with expelling toxins. ‘I’m sorry, James. That was a lovely meal and I hate to cut the evening short, but I’m dead on my feet here. I’m going to have to have an early night.’

He dabbed at his mouth with his napkin, finished his wine and gave her an indulgent smile. ‘No problem. Here, let me make sure you get back to your room. Can’t have you falling asleep in the lift.’ He stood and offered her his arm for support as they made their way to the foyer. ‘I bumped into a friend, actually, while you were having your massage, so I’ll probably go and have a drink with him. He’s on his own, I think he said.’

Sara was relieved that at least James would have some company for the rest of the evening, her focus now on getting to bed. She stumbled out of the lift and down the corridor to her room, glad of James’s support.

Once he’d opened the door for her and made sure she was okay, he left, and she wondered again if he might be gay, or maybe bisexual; whether this man he’d bumped into was more than a friend. Was that why he hadn’t made a move on her?

It was an odd situation, she thought, to want to dress a woman up, get her preened to perfection and then not try and sleep with her. It really didn’t make any sense. Friends, she reminded herself, too tired to think, to even get undressed. She climbed under the covers and instantly fell asleep.