Kim put her hands on her hips and stared at him. ‘I didn’t come down in the last shower, Dave Burrows. I bet this has got something to do with Jack and that horrible beard he grew just before he skipped town, supposedly on holiday.’

Dave stopped and put his hands on her waist. ‘Absolutely nothing gets past you, does it, my love?’

Kim smiled. ‘I try not to let it.’

‘I can’t tell you any more than I have already.’

‘That’s okay. I just need you to be safe.’ She stretched her arms up around his neck and stood on tiptoe to kiss him.

‘There won’t be any problem with that,’ he promised her. ‘And I’ll be able to talk to you most nights, I’d imagine. If not, I’ll send you a text.’

She nodded. ‘Now, at the risk of making you cranky before you go …’

‘You never make me cranky.’ He tightened his arm around her waist and pulled her to him. Looking down at her he felt his body respond the way it always did. How incredible to be in love with this woman since he was eighteen and still want—no, need—her the way he did when he was fifty plus. He dipped his head and kissed her, the urgency in his lips telling her of his desire.

‘Don’t you have to go?’ she muttered against him.

‘I can spare ten minutes.’

Kim giggled. ‘Do you think it’s going to take that long?’

He swotted her arse gently and pushed her onto the bed.

Dave kissed Kim goodbye and got into the car.

‘Please think about ringing Dean,’ Kim said as she put her face through the window for another kiss.

‘I know, I know, you’ve mentioned it once or twice before,’ he answered good-naturedly.

‘I wasn’t sure you’d heard me.’ Kim gave an impish smile and patted his arm. ‘Love you.’

‘Love you more. See you when I get back.’

He reversed out of the drive, gave another wave and headed towards the main road. The radio was playing, and he turned it up a little, before checking the clock. The Country Hour would be on pretty soon.

He hoped Jack had prepared himself well enough. It had been strange briefing him; it felt like only yesterday that Spencer Brown, his friend and work colleague when he’d been at Barrabine police station, had been briefing him about going undercover.

He remembered how he’d put a stone in his shoe to alter his gait and had worn contact lenses to change the colour of his eyes. Jack wouldn’t need any of that—just a beard and long hair, and some sunglasses and a hat to hide his eyes. He hoped Jack had memorised his story well enough not to stuff it up. One little slip could mean real trouble for him.