“Of course.”

But she couldn’t see her way to a couch, and he made no move to help her. Stiffly she began to unfasten her suspenders. She could hear his breathing now. He had moved farther away from her.

She peeled off one stocking, then the other, this time almost losing her balance. “You’d better have some shoes here for me, Zachari.”

A chuckle. And he took her arm and guided her across the room.

“Take a seat.”

She placed a hand on the couch to check it was there and sat carefully. She heard his footsteps walking away from her across the wood floor, caught the tiniest glimpse of his moving figure, and then…he was going down the stairs.

“Hey! You’re not going to leave me up here on my own!”

“Scared of the dark?” A door squeaked at the foot of the staircase.

Genevieve was acutely aware of the ticking of a clock, the murmur of traffic and a church bell striking the hour. Nine o’clock! The first guests might be arriving at her party.

A groan of floorboards. He was coming back up the stairs. And then he was down on the floor at her feet. She could just about make out his kneeling shape.

“Give me your left foot.”

His hand. The strength in his fingers. And now…a sensation of…It was as though he had taken her whole foot into his mouth.

“And your right foot, please.”

She thought of the silky skin of babies. She thought of downy feathers, softest fur. She thought of clouds.

“Please put a light on, Mr. Zachari. I’d like to see if these shoes of yours look as good as they feel.”

“Well, now we have a problem.”

“What problem? Open the curtains. I must see my new shoes.”

A sigh. “The problem, Mrs. Shelby King, is your dress.”

“What about my dress?”

“From what I could see, it clashes badly with my shoes. I think you’d better take it off.”

She laughed. She had to.

“I am quite serious, madame.”

“Do you want to see me in my slip? Is that it?”

A silence. Genevieve felt her heart begin to thud.

“I want to see you in my shoes.”

“Well, you’d better give me back my wrap then. I’ll have to put something on.”

Your wrap and your dress are that same lurid orange, are they not?”

She wished she could see his face.

“I want to see you in my shoes,” he said. “And you want me to see you in your slip. In fact, you want me to see you without your slip.”

“Oh, you think so?”

“Yes. I think so.”

“Well, I’m not that sort of woman, Mr. Zachari. Now put a light on, please.”

Silence. The zeeshhh of cars on the wet roads. The tapping of rain against the windows. The creak of floorboards as Zachari wandered around the room. Two people breathing.