I’m still hot and bothered. Just not being kissed. Dream fantasies and reality are not supposed to mix. It’s confusing. Too confusing.

‘You’ve got wet hair.’ He frowns.

‘I know. Forget it, it’s nothing.’ It’s my turn to frown as I back into the corner next to the cooker. I never realised this kitchen was so small. One more step and we’ll have moved onto another of my fantasies.

Stop, Rosie!

‘Why are you here? It’s eight o’clock in the morning, and my day off! You woke me up!’

‘You’re so cute when you’re sleepy but angry at the same time!’

‘Why?’

‘I don’t know, something about the tousled hair, the spark in your eye and—’

‘You know what I mean! Why are you here! Now, in my kitchen.’ I self-consciously touch my hair and try not to look pleased.

‘Oh yeah, well it’s your day off!’ He grins triumphantly.

‘Er, yes. But it’s not yours.’ How did he remember it was my day off? Nobody remembers stuff like that. Robbie didn’t, not even Mum does. Well, I guess Robbie’s mum sometimes did. She had it all written on the calendar – a column for each of them, and even one for me. It’s sad realising nobody is that bothered in my life any more. That the nearest thing I had to a family has disappeared into thin air. Or Wales.

Except now Noah bothers. Damn the man, he’s just so nice, so thoughtful, so …

‘Cooee it’s only me! I’ve got a parcel for you!’ A loud voice slices straight through my thoughts. Which is a good and a bad thing. Good because I’ve got a horrible feeling that I’m starting to like Noah far too much, and not just because he’s undeniably hot, bad because it’s my nosy neighbour.

‘I closed the door,’ mouths Noah, frowning.

‘I know,’ I mouth back.

He raises an eyebrow. I open my mouth to continue the silent conversation, and a small wiry woman bustles in like a terrier who has scented a rabbit. She is clutching a brown box in her hands and stops a foot short of shoving it into my arms.

‘Oh! You have company!’ She fixes him with a piercing stare then beams – if she had a tail, she’d be wagging it. ‘Oh, my goodness me, I’m not surprised you’ve got your mouth hanging open.’ I close it. ‘What a fabulous sight first thing in the morning; they should do it on the NHS. This one is so much better than the last one, Rosie!’ She circles him. ‘Bravo, well done!’

‘He’s not—’

‘What a gorgeous physique, such lovely legs. I can’t stand spindly ones, can you?’

‘I’ve never really thought about it,’ I say lamely and glance in the same direction she is.

Oh God, she’s right. He’s even got sexy knees! How did I not notice …? I think I was so obsessed with trying not to look like I’d been having fantasy sexual relations with him I’d blanked everything out below the waist. ‘You’ve got legs.’ He grins. ‘I mean shorts, you’ve got shorts on!’ I point.