‘No probs. Where’s the hunk?’

‘He’s gone back to work.’ I drop my bags behind the desk. ‘And don’t call him hunk.’

‘When are you seeing him again?’

‘We have an appointment,’ I say primly, ‘tomorrow.’

‘Wow, look at this.’ Bea is delving into my bags, lingerie first.

‘Stop it.’ I slap her hands and try and grab the bag off her, but I’m too late.

‘He really is taking this seriously!’ She giggles. Holding up my new satin bra and knickers. ‘Oh my God, Rosie! This guy is thorough.’

‘He didn’t pick them, I did! He’s not even seen them!’

‘Yet! Is he going to test out ripping them off?’

‘Shush.’ I bundle together all my bags and back away from her holding them protectively close. ‘I’m putting these in the back room, and no peeking!’

‘So, he might?’

‘No, he will not be ripping anything off! Have you any idea how much this stuff costs?’

‘Speculate to accumulate, as my dad used to say! So, what is he going to do if he’s not allowed to rip this stuff off?’

‘See what the results of my makeover are.’

‘What, and if he gets a hard-on, you’ve passed?’

‘Eurgh, you are so disgusting at times! It’s not all about sex you know!’

‘I think you’ll find it is. Sex, power and money!’

‘Bollocks! I’m going to re-order the religious section and clear my mind of your filth!’

Unfortunately, my mind does not clear of filth. I have to apologise to the books, because every time I think about my new sexy underwear, I think of him. Noah.

The look he gave me when he asked me how my luxury undies made me feel is branded across my brain. For that moment, it was as though my answer was all he was interested in, I was all he was interested in.

I close my eyes and can feel the warmth of his hand against my chin.

And then he lets his hand drift down my neck, my chest.

I can feel Noah tracing a finger over the lace of my bra, sending a shiver down my spine and making me beg for the touch of his mouth. Noah devouring my pink knickers with his eyes, then slowly stripping them off (he is of course doing this with due reverence – no ripping involved – they cost a fortune) with his capable warm hands.

I blink. Put my hand over my throat to chase away the fantasy of his touch. I’m being ridiculous, like some silly schoolgirl with a crush on her teacher.

I must not think about him in that way.

It is wrong. Very wrong. Noah has no place in my knickers.

So is Bea. Wrong that is, about it all being about sex. If life really does just boil down to sex, power and money then I’m screwed (though not in the sense she means).

My phone pings with an incoming message.

‘A* for that lesson! Homework – decide what else you’d like to change and do it! Noah.’