It had been a long time since Joanne had felt a force of attraction as strong as she’d felt with Shaun Barton. She thought those days were behind her.

But instead of feeling uncomfortable, she found herself welcoming the excitement, despite the awkwardness of the situation when it came to seeing Emma each day at the office.

After Shaun had appeared at work a couple of weeks ago, she’d initially ruled out meeting him for coffee. Even though her heart was saying otherwise, her head took control and she’d baulked at the fact that he was married to one of her employees. It was simply too complicated.

But then, when Emma had been so frank about her personal life, she’d inadvertently confirmed to Joanne that Shaun had indeed told her the truth.

Joanne had known then that she would contact him.

It was now late morning. The hours had whizzed by in very positive and exciting meetings with the other two partners, in which they’d discussed the encouraging trend in new business enquiries. Thanks to raising the company profile in various ways, including hosting the recent East Mids legal conference, the Walker, Dent and Scott name was fast becoming synonymous with quality, good-value legal advice and support, and winning the last few cases had enhanced their reputation.

Although Joanne had contributed enthusiastically to the meetings that day, she wasn’t able to give the other partners her complete and undivided attention. An undercurrent of excitement flowed through the afternoon, filling her with a delicious anticipation she hadn’t felt for years.

Just thinking about Shaun’s strong, wide shoulders and his fresh, citrusy smell made the entire surface of her skin buzz. Back in her own office now, she pulled a pile of documents towards her and picked up her silver Montblanc pen, trying to push thoughts of him from her mind. Sadly, it seemed she was too late: her focus on the mountain of paperwork she had to read through and sign during the morning was now non-existent.

She sipped the coffee Anya had just placed on her desk and allowed herself the luxury of thinking back to the morning she’d decided she would meet Shaun after all.

She’d opened the slim top drawer of her desk and retrieved his business card, tapping his mobile number into her phone.

‘Shaun Barton.’

His voice sounded deep and smooth when he answered the call, and her heartbeat seemed to relocate into her throat.

She opened her mouth to speak and found that her usual stoic, professional telephone manner had simply evaporated. Instead, she found herself stammering like a nervous schoolgirl.

‘Hi… it’s Joanne Dent. I… I’m ringing to say if your offer of coffee is still open, then… well, I’d love to.’

‘Fantastic,’ Shaun chuckled, as if he’d expected her to call back all along. ‘Can we make it today? After work?’

He named a time and suggested Roast, a trendy local coffee bar that specialised in fair-trade South American beans. She’d been wanting to try the coffee there for ages.

She paused to gather herself.

‘Sounds perfect,’ she replied coolly, secretly delighted he wanted to meet so soon. ‘I look forward to it.’

She’d left the office an hour early, telling Anya that the wisdom tooth she’d had so much trouble with last year was grumbling again.

‘I’ve managed to get a cancellation at the dentist. Can you cancel my four o’clock appointment?’

She silently thanked her lucky stars Piper was still away on her school trip.

She didn’t make a habit of letting clients down at short notice, but she wouldn’t be able to concentrate if she stayed. Besides, she wanted to freshen up at home. She couldn’t change her clothes – Shaun had seen her already that morning, and it wouldn’t do for her to look as though she had changed specifically to impress him – but she could certainly spruce up her hair and refresh her minimal make-up; she never brought much with her to work in that regard.

She darted out of the building before one of the other partners thought of something vital for her to look at before she left.

The journey was blissfully quiet in the middle of the afternoon compared to her usual rush-hour battle at the end of the day.

Home was a two-bedroom flat in a leafy village, usually around a twenty-minute drive from the Walker, Dent and Scott offices in the city centre. Today, courtesy of leaving so early, she managed to do it easily in ten.

She aimed a remote fob as she drew close, and the electric gates opened, allowing her to smoothly turn her Mercedes SLK onto the long, tree-lined driveway that led up to Linby House.

At the top of the driveway, the wide tyres of the sports car crunched on gravel as she parked in her reserved spot next to the fountain.

She grabbed her handbag as she got out of the car, marvelling at how unencumbered she felt without armfuls of case files to lug upstairs. She was reminded that there was once a time when she had had more in her life than simply work. There it was again: the past she was trying hard to bury.

As she approached the red-brick building, she admired the domed turret and decorative brickwork of the Victorian house.

She had bought the penthouse apartment two and a half years ago. Penthouse was probably a bit too grand a word, but it was true enough that the flat did take up the whole of the top floor of the house, and she enjoyed the use of a larger balcony than the other five flats on the lower floors, which afforded her lovely views of the surrounding fields and woodland.

When she and Piper first moved here, Joanne had envisaged the two of them enjoying relaxed barbecues on the covered balcony during finer weather. It hadn’t quite turned out like that.

Piper got bored easily with no television or computer to keep her attention. She took to wolfing down her food and swiftly disappearing back inside, leaving Joanne feeling all too aware she had no special someone to share her life with any more.

However many magazine articles she read extolling the benefits of being single and living alone, it didn’t make sitting on your own watching the sunset with a glass of wine any less lonely.

She and Piper were close, of course they were. But Joanne was painfully aware that the child could not – and should not be expected to – fill the aching gap inside her.

Five years ago, she had made a pact with herself that she wouldn’t begin a new romantic relationship for at least ten years.

The ten years bit hadn’t been a period of time plucked out of thin air. Joanne had taken time to consider all eventualities and had consequently calculated it carefully.

Five years was enough time for things to still feel real and raw. She frequently awoke with a racing heart and skin clammy enough to dampen the sheet beneath her.

Five years was still a relatively short length of time for someone determined enough to dig around in her past and find a wealth of information.

Conversely, ten years seemed like a lifetime away; long enough for memories to fade, a good enough chunk of time for people to move away and forget the sharp detail of what had happened back then. Ten years was long enough to build a successful career, meaning she and her daughter would be financially secure.

Best of all, thanks to the ruling of the Court of Justice of the European Union in 2014, everyone had the right to be forgotten online. Joanne had taken full advantage of this development and was still working to effectively erase any mention of what had happened.

It was a work in progress, but she had every confidence her ten-year plan would soon be completed satisfactorily.

It was a small price to pay to finally feel free. A small price to stop anyone who might be out to dig up dirt.