I spot Micky outside the café and hurry over, landing in my chair with a thud. It’s been a long bloody day of technical drawings and calculations on my roof . . . and the total head-fuck that is Jack Joseph. I’m drained, my mind bent in more ways than one, and I didn’t sleep a wink last night, memories of his words and of his bare, sweaty chest refusing to leave my mind. That vision plagued me all fucking night. Still is.

‘All right?’ Micky asks, eyeing up my stressed form.

‘My brain is frazzled,’ I sigh, dumping my bag down on the chair next to me. ‘Problem at work that I’ve been trying to fix.’

‘You work too hard. When was the last time you went on holiday?’

I cast my mind back . . . and back . . . and back.

‘I rest my case.’ He shows the sky his palms with a shrug. ‘You look tired. Take some time off and relax. Do nothing. Your business isn’t going to fall apart if you take a break.’

He’s wrong. It most definitely would fall apart. Besides, even if it wouldn’t, going on holiday and doing nothing means I’d get to think too much, and I don’t want to be thinking right now because there’s only one subject my brain annoyingly wants to focus on. ‘Maybe next year,’ I murmur, looking past Micky into the distance.

‘Oh no.’

I snap out of my short daydream immediately and find Micky looking at me, all worried. ‘What?’

‘That look. What are you thinking?’

‘Nothing.’ I laugh and start faffing with the spoon at my place setting.

‘Annie . . .’ My name is said on a long, warning exhale of air, and I laugh again, with a lack of anything else to do. Micky has known me my entire life. I’m not fooling him. ‘Tell me.’

‘Nothing to tell.’ I wave a hand in the air, feigning indifference, and pray he leaves it right there. ‘Work’s crazy.’

‘And have you seen him?’

‘Not really,’ I reply weakly, hating myself for not being able to sound convincing. I’m too tired to find the energy to be convincing.

Micky moves back in his chair slowly, eyeing me with caution. ‘Please tell me you’ve not been there again.’

I slam my mouth shut and avert my eyes from his. ‘No.’ Though I haven’t physically been there again, I have in my head, a million times, and that’s making me feel just as guilty.

‘I hope not.’ Micky leans across the table, probably to ensure I can see with perfect clarity how stern his face is. ‘You know, because he’s fucking married!’

‘Will you be quiet?’ I hiss across the table, my frantic eyes checking the vicinity, looking as paranoid as I feel. ‘I’ve not been there again, and I don’t plan to either.’

Micky throws himself across the table threateningly, and I withdraw, worried. I’ve never seen him look so angry. ‘I don’t like this. Is he pursuing you?’

‘No,’ I lie, for fear of my lifelong friend taking matters into his own hands. He looks perfectly capable right now.

‘Are you pursuing him?’

‘No.’ That’s not a lie. I haven’t. ‘I’m working with him, Micky. It’s hard not to see someone when you’re being forced to work with them.’

‘No one is forcing you to do anything.’

‘Are you suggesting I should throw away my dream job because some arsehole led me on?’ At that very moment, my phone starts buzzing on the table, and Jack’s name flashes up at us. I reach and reject the call, stabbing at the screen of my phone heavy-handedly. I look up at my friend and his lips purse.

‘I know you, Annie. I know when something is on your mind, and I know that it isn’t work.’ He shakes his head, dismayed. ‘Why didn’t you take that?’ he asks, pointing at my phone. ‘If it’s purely business, why?’

‘Because I’m having coffee with you.’

‘He’s married,’ he says simply, twisting the knife in further. ‘You don’t go there, Annie. You don’t even think there!’

‘I’m not.’ I grit my teeth harshly. ‘It’s work. Nothing more.’

His face softens as he reaches over and takes my hand. ‘You deserve more. Don’t get yourself caught up in that shit. It won’t end well.’

I drop my head, even more exhausted than when I arrived here. ‘I called you for coffee and a catch-up. Not an earache.’ I force a smile and shift my hand so I’m holding his, nodding my assurance. ‘It caught me off guard. The whole situation. But I’m fine, honestly. You know me.’ I look up when the waiter slides a coffee towards me. ‘Thank you.’

‘Should I have ordered something stronger?’ Micky asks seriously.

I snort, thinking that he most definitely should have. ‘Probably. How’s work?’ I ask. ‘Specifically, the new client?’ I waggle a cheeky eyebrow.

My lifelong friend sniffs in the most blasé way possible, toying with the napkin at his place casually. But just like Micky knows me, I know him, and this new client has clearly got under his skin. ‘All right.’

‘That’s it? All right?’

‘I suggested she might need an extra session per week.’

I laugh and take a needed hit of caffeine. ‘Of course she does.’

Micky grins around the rim of his cup. ‘Hey, I saw Jason yesterday.’

‘That’s nice. Did you tell him you’d screwed his ex?’

‘No.’ Micky rolls exasperated eyes. ‘Lizzy and I were a drunken mistake.’

‘Yeah, yeah. So what did he want?’

‘He wants to start training.’

I laugh sarcastically. ‘What, to get himself in better shape for the twenty-one-year-old he cheated on Lizzy with?’

Micky shrugs. ‘Not my business.’

I’m laughing again, but this time on the inside. I wish he’d adopt the same approach to me and my fuck-up. I look down at my phone and sigh. ‘How’d it get to four o’clock?’ I ask the screen, bracing myself to get my arse back to my studio so I can agonise over my problem some more. And I mean the roof problem. I’m going to have to admit defeat soon and revise all my plans, and then break the bad news to Colin.

‘Four? Shit!’ Micky jumps up from his chair and throws a tenner on the table. ‘I have a session with Charlie.’ He rushes around the table and smacks a kiss on my cheek. ‘See ya later.’

‘Have fun!’ I call, gathering up my things and getting on my way. My phone rings three more times before I make it to the Tube – all Jack – and I reject every single call. After last night, avoiding Jack is top of my priority list.

 

I look up from the pavement as I near my house, my feet slowing to a stop when I see a silver Audi parked up over the road. What the hell?

The driver’s door opens, and Jack gets out of his car, his tall body straightening to full height slowly. I spend a few too many seconds taking him in, as if I need to remind myself of his sheer magnificence. The sleeves of his pale blue shirt are rolled up, his hard forearms on full display, as well as his throat from his open collar.

I ignore him, pretend he isn’t there, and focus on putting my front door between us.

‘Hey.’ Jack’s soft voice blazes a trail up my back, igniting panic as I get closer. I start frantically searching for my keys in my bag.

‘Annie?’

Where the hell are my keys? Suddenly his hand is on my back, and I whirl around clumsily, pressing my body into the wood of my door. ‘What do you want?’ I blurt, sounding as scared as I feel.

Jack’s head tilts, and he shakes it as if trying to gather some patience. ‘Why haven’t you answered my calls? Or replied to my voicemail?’

‘I think it’s best I deal with Richard in future.’

His face takes on an angry edge, his nostrils flaring. ‘Why’s that?’

‘Because . . .’ I don’t want to say it out loud. I don’t want to admit that whatever this is between us is slowly breaking me down, and if I don’t remedy it soon, I might go where no woman should go. ‘I just think it’s for the best.’

‘I don’t,’ he replies shortly.

I look at him in shock. ‘What you think doesn’t matter.’

His grey eyes narrow to slits. ‘I’ve been trying to get hold of you because I thought of something.’

‘What?’ I ask warily.

‘A solution to your problem.’

‘Which problem?’ I blurt out without thought, making him recoil a little. Shit! I seriously need to fix that filter.

‘I was referring to the roof,’ he says, looking at me with interest. ‘Why, is there another problem?’ He’s goading me, trying to press my buttons and force a confession out of me – how I can’t stop thinking about him, how my body burns with want for him. He can try all he likes.

‘No, there’s not.’ He knows as well as I do that we have more than a construction problem here, and we need to sort it out quickly. If it can be sorted out at all. ‘What’s your solution?’

‘To which problem?’ he asks seriously.

I breathe in a patience-building shot of air. And maybe a resistance-strengthening one too. ‘My roof problem,’ I clarify, keeping my face straight and serious.

‘Oh, that problem.’ A sick smile ghosts his lips, a knowing smile.

‘This isn’t funny, Jack.’

‘I’m not laughing, Annie.’ He points to his car. ‘I think I have a solution to our roof problem. I’ll show you.’

I look to his car, as wary as I should be, and back to Jack. ‘Show me what?’

‘A project we undertook last year. A museum.’ I frown, and he goes on. ‘The structure wasn’t adequate to take the roof.’

My back straightens. ‘And what did you do?’

He sighs tiredly, stepping back to give me space. ‘Let me show you?’ He’s not begging, but he’s not far from it. ‘I want to see your roof come to life as much as you do, Annie. I want to help you.’

I try to read his body language, try to figure him out, totally torn. I don’t know whether he’s purposely trying to entice me, or whether he genuinely wants to help me. But there’s only one way to find out.

‘I’ll follow you there,’ I say, hoping I’m not making a huge mistake.

 

The drive takes a good twenty minutes, me tailing his silver Audi in my Golf, and the whole time my mind is batting back and forth between my work problem and my personal problem. Every time I think work, though, Jack overpowers those thoughts and I find my mind reeling with so many questions. Questions about his wife, their relationship, the so-called rumours about her. But as quickly as those questions pop into my head, they go when I remind myself that it’s none of my business or concern. Focus, Annie. Focus on work.

I pull up behind Jack outside an Edwardian-style building and join him on the pavement. ‘This?’ I ask, looking up at the stone façade.

‘It’s at the rear.’ He wanders ahead, leaving me to follow. ‘This way.’

I make my way around the back of the building, keeping my distance, finding myself in a beautifully manicured garden. ‘This is a museum?’ I ask, taking a few steps towards the face of the building.

‘Dedicated to a local artist who died in the fifties.’ Jack points upwards, and I follow his indication to look at the roof. ‘It’s not glass, but it’s pretty hefty.’

‘And how did you support it adequately?’

Jack moves to a window and points inside. ‘Come here.’

I make my way over, curious, and join him at the window, but my height prevents me from seeing through the raised glass. ‘I can’t . . . oh!’ I’m lifted from my feet and presented to the window. ‘Jack!’

‘See that back wall?’ he asks, ignoring my panicked screech.

I try to numb myself to the feel of his big hands on my waist, looking through the window. ‘Yes,’ I practically squeak.

‘That was where the building ended. The original wall was too old and weak to sustain the pitched roof of the extension, so we basically demolished it and rebuilt it with a double skin using reclaimed stone. It meant no support columns had to be used, so the space remained open.’

‘And you think we could do the same on Colin’s project?’ I ask, trying not to let my excitement get the better of me before we know for sure.

‘We’ll need to have the structural engineer confirm it.’ He lowers me to my feet, moving his hands away. I faff with my dress in an attempt to look unaffected by the fact that his big hands had me held at that window with absolutely no effort. ‘But I can’t see there being a problem at all.’

I lose the ability to contain my excitement, looking up at him. ‘Really?’

Jack smiles brightly, and this time it’s that full-blown, gorgeous Jack smile. ‘You’re back on track, Annie.’

Forgetting myself completely, totally overcome with relief and a ton of other emotions I dare not analyse, I launch myself at him, so bloody grateful for his help. ‘Thank you,’ I breathe, squeezing his shoulders.

His strong arms lock around my whole body and lift me from the ground, his face sinking into my neck. ‘Any time,’ he replies softly.

It would be appropriate to detach ourselves from each other right about now, yet neither of us shows any signs of releasing the other, both of us content to remain locked together. I can feel his heart beating, his chest pulsing into mine, and his smell, pure and Jack, takes over my senses completely. I begin to succumb to every intoxicating element of Jack Joseph, feeling myself weakening where I’m held in his arms.

‘Is this how you do business?’ he asks after an age, inhaling into my neck. ‘Because if so, we need to work together a lot more in the future.’

I smile despite myself. ‘I’m sorry.’ I reluctantly break away from him, now avoiding his eyes. ‘I got a little overwhelmed.’

‘So you should.’ He folds his arms over his broad chest, and I fleetingly wonder if it’s a move to prevent him from taking me in his arms again. ‘You’re a very talented woman, Annie. I wish every architect I worked with was as dynamic and creative as you are.’

Every time Jack says my name, something happens inside me. Something electrifying. And when he praises me like he just did, it inspires me, drives me to want to do so much more. I swallow down the lump in my throat and point over my shoulder. ‘I should be getting home,’ I say, and he nods mildly. ‘Thank you, Jack.’

His eyes. Oh, his eyes. They say a million things, even if his mouth doesn’t.

I slowly turn and walk away, shaking. But not so much with excitement. More with the restraint to not run back into his arms, where for a welcome moment my rocking world was steady again.

When I make it to my car I drop into my seat and take a few steadying gasps of oxygen, looking back up to the building, waiting for him to appear. But he doesn’t, and I start to wonder what he’s doing back there. What he’s thinking. He’s helped me. He found a solution to my problem, and his face when he saw my elation could have knocked me to my arse. He was happy for me. He wants me to succeed.

‘Go home, Annie,’ I say to myself, turning the key in the ignition. The engine drones for a few seconds before going dead. ‘Oh, come on,’ I say, trying it again. This time, I get nothing. Not a peep. ‘Well, this is great.’ I flop back in my seat just as Jack appears from the back of the building, his head dropped and his hands stuffed deeply into his pockets. He looks like he has the weight of the world on his shoulders, and when he looks up and finds me still here, he cocks his head in question. I raise hopeless hands.

Making his way over, he opens my car door. ‘What’s up?’

‘It won’t start.’ I turn the key again, demonstrating the lack of life.

‘Open the bonnet,’ he orders.

‘How?’

He laughs lightly on a little shake of his head and reaches into the car, down by my legs. I hold my breath and quickly shift my knees when he skims them with his hard forearm. ‘Here,’ he says, flicking me a knowing look and pulling the hidden lever. I smile awkwardly, my mind blanking on me, as he slowly withdraws his arm. I only start breathing again when he’s out of touching distance, making his way around to the front of my car. He lifts the bonnet, taking him out of my view.

I get out of my car and stand far enough away from him so there can be no more touches, accidental or not. ‘Are you good with cars?’

‘Basics,’ he says, licking his finger and touching a metal knob. ‘Your battery is dead. I don’t have any jump leads.’

‘What are jump leads and where can I get them?’

He laughs again, harder this time, and looks at me, thoroughly amused. ‘They may get your car started, but there’s nowhere you’ll find them around here at this time of night.’

‘Oh. So what do I do?’

‘You let me take you home.’

I shoot him a look. ‘Jack, I really don’t thin—’

He’s claimed my hand before I have a chance to argue further, pulling me towards his Audi. ‘It’s a good idea?’ he finishes. ‘Why?’

And, fuck, my whole damn body goes up in smoke. I look down at his big hand wrapped around my tiny wrist, knowing I haven’t a hope of yanking myself free. He pulls us to a stop and turns to me, catching me off guard. I hit his chest and jump back, zeroing in on his open collar. I mustn’t look at his face. I. Must. Not. Look. At. His. Face.

My tongue goes all heavy, but I manage to spit some words out. ‘Fine, you can take me home.’

‘It wasn’t up for debate.’ He opens the door and pushes me down into the seat.