After a poor start to their conversation, Faith felt she was finally speaking to the Nick who had opened his heart to the group and not the bullish persona he used to impress his clients. Derek had been the same, but her husband had eventually learnt that he couldn’t win her heart the same way he won his contracts.

Realising where her thoughts had led, Faith stepped away from the flames she had been fanning. She didn’t need nor want another man in her life. Romance was overrated, as poor April was in the process of discovering. Jason had cheated on her and, dead or alive, April needed to settle the score. That was where Faith could help. What her friend needed was some good old-fashioned revenge sex.

‘If you’re that keen on becoming a part of the group,’ she told Nick, ‘you can pick me up on the condition that you make an effort to get to know everyone. We all have something different to contribute, each with our own unique experience and perspective. What you can’t get from me, you’ll find from someone else.’

Faith was applying a final layer of mascara when the doorbell rang. She grabbed a silk blouse and buttoned it over her skin-tight jeans as she padded barefoot downstairs. Pausing halfway, she watched the dark silhouette of a man waiting for her. His tall, broad frame filled the leaded windows in the front door and she saw him reach up to ring the bell again, only to hesitate. His hand dropped and his silhouette shifted as he moved from one foot to the other. There was the flash of silver as he checked his watch. Nick was fifteen minutes early.

With a smile spreading across her face, Faith opened the door and put Nick out of his misery. ‘What time do you call this?’ she demanded.

He returned her smile. ‘Sorry, in my line of business, it’s better to be early than late.’

‘You’d better come in,’ she said, pushing the door open with her elbow as she continued to fasten the last of her buttons.

Nick’s footfalls echoed down the hallway. ‘It’s an amazing place you have here,’ he said, sneaking a furtive glance into the first reception room. The door was slightly ajar, revealing a stack of boxes atop the dining table. ‘Have you just moved in?’

‘I’ve been here ten years, the first six of which I spent with Derek,’ Faith explained, closing over the dining room door. She was in fresh negotiations with the antique dealer to sell more of the furniture and had gathered up smaller items to auction on eBay. Every little helped.

‘My husband had more traditional tastes and was loathe to make changes,’ she continued. ‘I’ve modernised here and there since he died, but it’s a work in progress.’

‘Preparing for a new phase in your life?’