She could feel his breath damp on her neck and the slight tremble that ran through him. Pulling back abruptly, she looked at him. She saw confusion sweep across his face and… was that a trace of fear?

‘What’s wrong, Jack?’ she asked, reaching a hand up to his cheek and holding it there.

He shook his head. ‘Not a thing,’ he said, putting his hand over hers, ‘although I might have overdone it at the gym.’ He patted his stomach. ‘I’ve lost a bit of weight recently and thought I’d better tone up. Haven’t been in ages.’

‘Oh, I see,’ she said, wishing she believed him.

‘Yes’ – he patted his stomach again – ‘I swear I feel more toned already. A good workout, you can’t beat it.’

She sat and picked up her tea. ‘It’s still hot if you want some.’

Nodding, he reached into a cupboard for a mug. ‘Are you okay?’ he asked, lifting the teapot. ‘You look pale.’

‘I’m fine,’ she said, with a reassuring smile. ‘Amelia wasn’t as much fun to go away for a weekend with as I’d expected, so I made an excuse to leave early.’

‘Really? I thought you said you were having a great time.’

‘It was okay.’ It would have been nice to share her humiliation, to have him laugh over it. But of course, she couldn’t – couldn’t tell him about her moment of weakness where she had lusted after a young man so much that she would have followed him into the fields and revelled in him like an escapee from a Thomas Hardy novel. ‘But I’m glad to be home and looking forward to having lunch with you.’ She caught Jack’s puzzled look. ‘You did remember to book a table for lunch, didn’t you? Remember, we discussed trying that new Lebanese restaurant.’

Jack shook his head as he poured tea and added milk. ‘It went out of my head. I’ll give them a buzz, I’m sure it won’t be a problem.’ The tea was too hot, he slurped it noisily. ‘You’ve already unpacked?’ Putting his mug down, he went to the cupboard for biscuits, rummaging through a selection of packets before deciding on one. He took it out and struggled to open it. ‘Damn things,’ he muttered and tore the top with his teeth.

Taking his seat, he shook out a handful of biscuits and slid the rest over to her.

Shifty. It was the only word Molly could use to describe the way he was looking at her. ‘Yes,’ she said finally. ‘I’ve been home about an hour.’

‘Did you see?’ he said, taking a sip of his tea.

She blinked in confusion. ‘See what?’

His mug went down with a clatter and he threw his hands up in the air. ‘What? The bed I made so perfectly. Weren’t you surprised?’