‘Jack,’ I barely whisper, my mouth dry, my hand squeezing the door handle to try to steady my trembling.

‘Oh no!’ Stephanie cries, appearing at my side. ‘Are you okay?’ She bends and starts collecting the broken pieces of glass. ‘Oh my, there’s wine everywhere!’

I just stare. And so does he. I know Stephanie is talking, but I can’t make out a word she’s saying, hearing only Jack’s voice through the flashbacks currently bombarding me, more vivid and real than any time before.

I blink rapidly, my breathing coming in short, fast bursts. I need to pull myself together. Quickly. Ripping my eyes away from Jack’s, I drop to my haunches and start carelessly collecting pieces of glass, my mind in chaos.

He’s here? Oh, my God, he’s here! And he’s married? I start to sweat.

‘I’m so sorry,’ I mumble to the floor, feeling a sharp stab of pain bolt through my finger. Dropping all of the shards I’ve clumsily gathered, I suck in air and look blankly down at blood trickling from the cut. Tears flood my eyes, a mixture of pain and desperation as Stephanie grabs my arm.

‘You’ve cut yourself,’ she says, pulling me to my feet. ‘Let me see.’

I’m trembling in her hold. She must feel it. ‘I’m sorry,’ I mumble mindlessly, looking up at her.

She looks straight into my eyes, and I look away quickly, fearful of what she might read in them. ‘Here, Jack, take Annie to clean up in the bathroom while I clear this mess up.’

‘No, it’s fine!’ I blurt out, yanking my hand away fast, my panic rising. ‘Honestly, it’s just a silly nick. I need to mop this up.’

‘I’ll wipe up,’ Colin offers. ‘You get a bandage.’

‘Come.’ Jack’s voice hits me from the side, and then his hand claims my wrist.

I jolt like a frightened animal, jumping back a few steps. Then I do something so utterly stupid. I look at him, finding grey eyes full of concern.

He tilts his head, saying so much before he breathes a word. ‘Where’s the bathroom?’ he asks.

I point down the corridor, losing the ability to talk. Before I can even think to protest, Jack has his hand against the small of my back, pushing me towards my bedroom. His touch is like fire against my back, burning through the material of my dress.

We’re going to be alone. What will he say? What will I say? He’s married? He’s here, in my house with his fucking wife! And he’s Colin’s contractor! My stomach churns.

He doesn’t close my bedroom door behind us, choosing to only push it shut a little. Then he’s leading the way across my room, pulling me along behind him urgently. After a quick check over his shoulder, he pulls the bathroom door closed behind us, and though I’m a wreck on the inside, I manage to appreciate how suspicious the closed doors might look if his wife comes to find us. I step forward to push it open again, but Jack intercepts me, blocking my way with his tall, well-built body. More flashbacks, except his body is naked.

I refuse to look up at him. I’m a big fat mess on the inside – confused, hurt and angry – but a lust and desire that I’m all too familiar with is dominating me. And I’m terrified by it. It wasn’t the alcohol that night. It wasn’t my imagination. It was real, and I’m feeling it all again now. When I really shouldn’t be.

He doesn’t speak, leaving the silence drenched with unspoken words and penetrated with potent craving. I knew I should have stayed away! I sensed there was a reason I should have stayed away. Oh my God, he’s married! I checked for a ring that night. He wasn’t wearing a ring!

‘I need to go.’ I push past him, but he seizes me and holds me in place, his breathing wild and laboured.

‘You’re Colin’s architect?’ he asks, his voice rich and smooth even though it carries reasonable worry.

‘Yes,’ I answer, short and sharp, not following it up with any of the questions that I should be firing at him.

Pretend I don’t know him. Pretend I’ve never clapped eyes on him before in my life. It’s the only way. ‘Why didn’t you tell me you’re married?’ The question just falls right out.

His hands squeeze my shoulders. ‘I couldn’t,’ he says simply. ‘I physically couldn’t utter the fucking words to you, because at that moment in time, Annie, I was wishing I wasn’t, more than I’ve ever wished it before.’

Wished it before? I shake my head before I can let that question hold me here any longer. ‘I really must go.’

‘No,’ he grates, shaking me a little.

My anxiety rockets. I can only pretend nothing happened between us if he lets me, and his attitude right now is telling me he’s not prepared to. Or maybe he’s worried I’ll say something to his wife. His wife! His wife who’s currently sweeping up broken glass in my hallway.

Anger bubbles up from my toes, and I brave looking at him. His handsome face is like a sucker punch to my turning stomach. I feel sick. ‘I won’t say anything if that’s what you’re worried about.’

‘You were gone,’ he whispers, taking my arm and pulling me towards the sink.

He flips the tap on and forces my hand under the running water. There’s no pain. I can’t feel a damn thing through my shock.

‘I woke up and you were just gone,’ he says. ‘Why?’

His audacity astounds me. Like I have to justify my actions to him? ‘It’s fucking irrelevant now, don’t you think?’ I seethe, wrenching my hand from the sink and grabbing a hand towel to wrap it in.

I’m so stupid! I bet he’s out most weekends enticing women back to hotels with those sinfully good looks, the right words, his twinkling eyes and a bit of charming banter. He’s clearly got away with it too, because his wife obviously trusts him. She didn’t think twice about sending him into a room alone with me. What an arsehole! I’m suddenly so mad with myself for wasting a whole week going over every tiny detail of our encounter, picking it to pieces and trying to make sense of it. How many women has he blindsided?

He moves in closer and bends a little, his scent invading my nose. I hold my breath to avoid it. To stop myself from relishing it.

‘There was nothing irrelevant about that night, Annie. I’ve thought of nothing else since.’ His hand comes up and cups my cheek, his thumb circling lightly over my skin.

My whole body relaxes, the feel of him touching me so tenderly cutting through my anger, and I release my breath, getting a strong hit of his manly smell. It sends me woozy.

‘There was something there between us,’ he whispers. ‘Fucking hell, something that’s possessed me. I can’t get you out of my head, Annie. I’ve been back to that bar every damn fucking night looking for you.’ His face comes close, his breath warming my cheeks as I close my eyes and fall into a trance. ‘You felt it too, didn’t you? It wasn’t just sex. Tell me you felt it too.’ He brushes his scruff lightly across my cheek and I moan, despite myself, suddenly catapulted back into that hotel room. ‘I thought I’d never see you again.’

I swallow, trying not to let the confirmation that he’s thought about it too run away with me. It’s a moot point now. But his touch. It’s like fire, pulling the memories to the front of my mind, making me relive them all relentlessly.

‘That night,’ he breathes. ‘With you curled into my side, I had no worries. No problems. I felt nothing beyond you, and it was fucking perfect, Annie.’

I swallow and squeeze my eyes shut. ‘Perfect until I found out that you’re married.’ The words hurt, and though I’m willing myself to step back, to remove myself from his touch because I know I shouldn’t be loving the feel of him, I don’t. I remain where I am, unwilling and unable to rob myself of the amazing feelings that I’ve dreamed about experiencing again.

‘You kept it,’ Jack says softly, pulling my eyes open. He picks up the bottle cap from the shelf above my sink and fiddles with it for a few seconds, studying it moving between the tips of his fingers. I say nothing, watching as he looks back to me. ‘You couldn’t forget either.’

We stare at each other for a few moments as he blindly puts the bottle cap back. Then he moves closer to me, pushing his body into mine. Explosions. And his mouth drops lazily towards mine. In my head, I’m screaming, demanding I push him away. But my heart is fluttering and my body is coming to life again. His lips. His touch. His voice. His face. His kisses. Soft kisses turning into hard kisses. Just one more of those consuming kisses. One more. Please, one more. His lips gently brush mine, and I go lax against him.

‘Jack!’

I’m snapped from my recklessness when her voice slams into the bathroom, and I fly back, as does Jack, just as the door opens and his wife appears. ‘Is it bad?’ she asks, approaching me.

Her presence aligns my senses in a heartbeat. ‘It’s nothing,’ I assure her, smiling tightly. ‘I have a plaster in the kitchen.’

‘Maybe put some antiseptic cream on first,’ Jack says quietly, and I look at him, finding intense grey eyes nailed to me.

Stephanie laughs and places a dainty hand on Jack’s exposed forearm. His whole body locks, going visibly tense. ‘Always so wise,’ she says dreamily as my eyes fall to where her hand is resting on his flesh.

Solid arms, braced on either side of my head as he pounded into me.

No!

I shake the flashbacks away and pluck some stability from nowhere. ‘What a great start to the night.’ I laugh, watching as Jack pulls his arm away from his wife’s touch, flicking nervous eyes at her.

Her eyes aren’t nervous. They’re narrowed. More tension.

‘Let’s get back to the party.’ I gesture towards the door, relieved when Stephanie slaps a smile on her face and leads on, Jack behind her.

I follow them out. Them. Stephanie and Jack. A married couple.

His shoulders are stiff, his profile appearing every few seconds when he looks back at me. Each time, I glance away, dying on the inside, bombarded by so many feelings. I don’t know what to do with any of it. The guilt: that’s the most potent feeling of all. And then more panic when I see Lizzy coming in from the garden.

Oh Jesus, I’ve been so caught up in my state of shock I forgot my friends here tonight were also in the bar that night. I watch in horror as she pulls to a slow stop, looking straight past Stephanie to Jack, her smile falling away. I fly past Jack, knocking his arm, and reach Lizzy, forcing her to retreat.

‘You don’t know him,’ I whisper in her ear as I whirl around, slapping a smile on my face. ‘This is Lizzy!’ I declare, making introductions. ‘Lizzy, this is Jack, my client’s contractor, and his wife, Stephanie.’ I don’t mean to emphasise that word with spite, but just in case Lizzy is slow on the uptake, I need to spell out, loud and clear, my fucked-up situation.

Lizzy presents her hand to each of them in turn, smiling brightly. She has the casual, blasé mask far more nailed than I do. ‘How lovely to meet you,’ she gushes, turning to me once she’s said her hellos. Her dark eyes are wide. So fucking wide. They should be. ‘I’ll go and change the music.’

Her head tilts to the side a little in silent signal. I read her mind like I could be reading from a script. She’s going to make sure that Nat and Micky don’t drop me in the shit. Fuck, I hope they don’t recognise Jack; they were all pretty pissed, but I can’t risk it. ‘I think only Micky will recognise him,’ Lizzy whispers as she passes me.

God, I hope so. Colin appears in the doorway. ‘Are you okay?’

‘It’s nothing,’ I assure him. ‘Did you get a drink?’

‘Yes.’ He holds up a glass of red. ‘I was just seeing to Jack and Stephanie’s but I got distracted by your friend Micky. He’s a personal trainer, and I need one of those.’ Colin flexes his non-existent biceps and makes his way back into the garden. ‘Get those drinks and come and join us.’

‘What would you like?’ I ask Stephanie, pulling the cupboard open and retrieving the small first aid box.

‘Wine would be lovely, thank you. White, please.’

‘Jack?’ I ask, hating how his name sounds on my lips. I definitely hear a deep inhale of breath from behind me.

‘Beer, please,’ he says, as I make quick work of slapping a plaster over my tiny cut. ‘Budweiser, if you have it.’

My fumbling fingers falter. Budweiser. I see him tipping a bottle to his lips and I see me, rapt by his taut throat. And the bottle top. Something to remember him by. ‘I have it.’ I shove the first aid box back in the cupboard and turn, catching his eye.

‘Thank you.’ He glances away, kicking me into action.

I make fast work of getting their drinks, but not so fast that Lizzy doesn’t have time to suss out the rest of my friends. When she appears in the doorway again, mildly nodding, I very nearly collapse with relief.

‘The garden?’ I lead the way and introduce Jack and his wife to a few people, feeling him staring at me the whole time.

Nat is oblivious to Jack and who he is, but Micky’s stance definitely alters the moment he claps eyes on him. I stare at my oldest friend until he looks at me, then give him begging eyes, hoping he sees and absorbs my silent plea. He shakes his head, looking as disturbed by the situation as I’m feeling, before returning his attention to Colin.

You’d have to be dead not to feel the tension bouncing around my courtyard garden. I’m certain everyone must feel it, yet as I glance around, everyone is chatting normally, unaware. I leave Stephanie and Jack with Nat and rush to the kitchen to find more wine, knowing I’ll have company in—

‘What the fuck?’ Lizzy hisses, joining me by the worktop as I pour with shaking hands.

I nod my agreement and bring the glass to my lips, swigging back half of the wine.

‘Tell me you didn’t know.’

‘I didn’t know,’ I say calmly, not insulted by Lizzy’s demand as I swallow my wine and turn, resting my arse against the counter.

Micky falls into the kitchen with wide, worried eyes. ‘Annie, you okay?’

I nod and sip more wine. ‘He’s married,’ I mumble mindlessly, staring into my glass. ‘My amazing one-night stand is married, in my house with his fucking wife, and he’s my client’s contractor.’ I look up at my friends. ‘I have to work with him.’ I laugh. ‘You couldn’t fucking write it!’

‘The wanker,’ Micky spits, slamming his glass down on the counter.

‘Nat was too busy dancing and throwing back shots to take any notice of him in the bar,’ Lizzy says, looking outside, no doubt checking the coast is clear.

‘I can’t believe this,’ I splutter. ‘All that time I wasted thinking about him.’

‘Here.’ Lizzy pours more wine into my glass and Micky comes over, wrapping an arm around my shoulder.

‘I’m such an idiot.’

‘No,’ they snap in unison.

‘I am. I fell right into his hands, and now I have to look his wife in the eye knowing I fucked her husband.’ The thought sets my panic off again and I begin to tremble, my wine splashing up the side of my glass.

‘This isn’t your fault.’ Lizzy grinds the words out, annoyed. ‘Look at me,’ she demands, and I do. ‘Calm down. Get through tonight and then we’ll reconvene in the morning.’

‘What am I going to do?’ I ask. ‘I can’t work with him.’ I’ll have to quit Colin’s project. It’s my dream design coming to life, and I’ll have to abandon it.

‘For now, you’re not going to let him ruin your night. Tomorrow we’ll . . .’

The room falls silent when another presence is noted by all three of us, and we all look towards the door. Jack’s standing in the doorway, absorbing the fiery glares pointed at him. ‘I need to talk to Annie,’ he states confidently.

‘What?’ Micky pipes up, almost laughing at the cheek of his declaration. ‘You turn up here large as life, with your fucking wife?’

‘I have one person to explain myself to,’ Jack says calmly. ‘Five minutes, Annie, please.’ He lands me with grey eyes full of desperation. I force myself to disregard his evident despair and tell myself I’m owed an explanation. Because I am.

‘Five minutes,’ I confirm, glancing at Micky and Lizzy, knowing I must be as mad as they think I am. But I need to hear what he has to say. I need closure. ‘I’ll be fine.’

They both leave, clearly reluctant, and once we’re alone, that energy between Jack and me – the energy that frightens me – surges forward. It’s so powerful it makes me move across the room hastily to put as much distance between us as possible and, perhaps, to make the situation look as casual as possible should anyone walk in. Just two people having a chat about business in the kitchen. ‘Go ahead, Jack. Explain,’ I say, cutting straight to the chase.

His hesitation is obvious. ‘Before I explain anything, you need to know that I have never cheated on my wife. Not ever, Annie. Not until you.’

I scoff, unable to force it back. ‘And that makes everything okay?’

‘I didn’t say it makes everything okay. I just want you to know that I don’t make a habit of cheating on my wife.’ He moves forward a few steps, and I hold my hand up, silently stopping him from coming any closer as I glance over my shoulder into the garden. His wife is chatting with Lizzy. My friend is keeping her occupied while her husband is in here with me. I wince, swallowing down the building guilt. ‘Have you thought about me?’ he asks.

I snap my eyes to Jack’s. ‘No.’ Admitting it would be stupid.

‘Don’t lie to me,’ he warns, totally serious. ‘Don’t pretend you didn’t feel it.’

‘What the hell does it matter now?’ I hiss. ‘You lied to me. Where was your ring?’

He throws his hand up, showing me his ring finger. It’s still bare. ‘I don’t wear one. I broke a knuckle when I was working as a builder and haven’t been able to get it on since.’

‘Then you should have told me.’ I imagine plenty of women throw themselves at him. He should have a sign on his forehead or something, some kind of visible warning not to go near.

‘Told you?’ He almost laughs. ‘I already said, Annie. I couldn’t. I couldn’t even think the words. I saw nothing except you. Thought of nothing except how much I wanted you. Everything else paled. All I see are your green eyes staring up into mine. All I can feel is your skin against me. Your breath in my ear.’

‘Stop!’ I demand, ignoring the fact that I had a similar reaction to him. But I’m single. I’m allowed to feel like that. He shouldn’t. Not when he’s taken!

‘No.’ He comes over to me, and I find myself quickly checking behind me again, all skittish, before looking at him. He’s too close. It’s dangerous for more reasons than his wife possibly walking in here. ‘I can’t stop, Annie.’

I shake my head and move away, opening a cupboard and pulling down a bag of pretzels, anything to look busy and casual. ‘You’re married. It ends here,’ I say firmly and evenly, not allowing his words to pierce my resolve.

‘Do you want it to?’ he asks, knocking me back a bit.

I don’t answer nearly as quickly as I should, distracting myself with pouring the pretzels into a bowl. ‘Are you suggesting an affair?’

‘I’m asking you if you’re curious about us.’

‘There is no “us”,’ I whisper-hiss, performing another check of our surroundings.

‘What if there should be?’

I baulk, astounded. ‘“Should be”?’

‘I’ve played tug of war with my conscience all week, Annie. I’ve told myself that this isn’t the right way to get out of my marriage. I’ve tried, I’ve tried so fucking hard to stop thinking about you, and then shit happens with Stephanie and I’m back to square one, obsessing over you and how you made me feel. The smiles you pulled from me. The feelings you spiked. You are clouding everything.’

Shit happens with Stephanie? I hate myself for wondering too hard what that shit is. I can’t ask. Shouldn’t ask.

‘You will stay away from me.’ I pivot and leave the kitchen before Jack can come back at me with anything else that may dent my determination, slapping a smile on my face as I enter the garden.

I just need tonight to be over so I can commence with the meltdown that’s undoubtedly going to floor me. He felt it, just like I did – the connection, the overwhelming chemistry. But it was just lust, stirred up and made more potent by alcohol. And spontaneity. I have to keep telling myself that. It’s the safest way. I never thought I’d see him again, that he would remain a beautiful, albeit frustrating, fantasy in my head. A benchmark for all men who may come after. I doubt I’ll find that crushing attraction with anyone else. I’ve been teased, experienced something incredible, only to discover I can never have it again. That I should never have had it in the first place. Denying yourself is one thing. Being denied by something out of your control is a whole new ballgame. It just makes you want it more.

I watch as Stephanie chats with Colin, and Jack stands silent at her side, obviously distracted. No matter how hard I try, I can’t stop my eyes from straying to him. Every time I catch his gaze, I quickly glance away, pushing down my thumping heart as it works its way up to my throat. I fight to keep myself in conversations, but I’m too unfocused, seeing mouths move but hearing no words being spoken. My head is full of reminders. Of things Jack said to me. Of the way he touched me and made love to me.

I discreetly glance over to him again, but this time his attention is on his wife as she speaks to him. Colin raises his hands, as if in surrender, and backs away from the couple warily, making his way over to me. Stephanie looks angry, and though I try my hardest to lip-read her, I can’t make out what she’s saying to her husband. Her husband. Jack. Stephanie’s husband.

‘It’s kicked off over there,’ Colin laughs, a little tipsy as he reaches me.

‘What has?’ I ask, playing ignorant, keeping one eye on him and one eye on Jack.

‘Jack is a diamond of a bloke, but it seems the rumours are true.’

‘What rumours?’ I ask, frowning as I watch Stephanie’s face get closer to Jack’s and he retreats a little, shaking his head and closing his eyes. He’s gathering patience.

‘Well,’ Colin starts. ‘I’ve only met the woman tonight, but I can see what people mean. She’s a bit . . . of a handful.’

Handful? I can’t rip my eyes away. Jack is clearly trying to keep Stephanie calm, leaning in to speak to her and placing a comforting hand on her arm. My eyes root to that hand, feeling it touching me all over again. What is wrong with her? Is she suspicious? Has she sensed the friction between Jack and me?

My eyes jump between them, trying desperately to figure out what’s going on. Jack catches my eye, and he breathes in deeply as Stephanie shrugs him off and throws her wine back on a sneer. She marches off to top up her glass, and I find myself stuck in position, wanting to move away but unable. I start to shake, fearful of the lack of control I have over my body where Jack’s concerned. And, worse, my mind.

‘Best keep out of the way of domestics,’ Colin says, pointing to my empty. ‘Another drink?’

I strain a smile. ‘I just need the toilet.’ I force my shaky legs to take me inside and to my bathroom. I close the door and fall back against the wood, trying to breathe some calm into my lungs.

I feel like I could crack under the pressure of Jack’s presence, my mind going into overdrive, wondering if the tension between us is obvious. Wondering what his wife’s grievance is. I’m not the paranoid type. I’m not unreasonable. Yet right now I feel like I have a sign stuck to my back detailing my sins.

‘Annie?’ There’s a knock on the door behind me and Lizzy’s concerned voice drifts into the bathroom. ‘You okay?’

‘I’m fine.’ I rush towards the sink and brush at my flushed cheeks, then spot the bottle top on the shelf. I’ll never be able to look at Budweiser in the same way again. Clenching my jaw, I grab the cap and throw it in the bin. ‘Just coming.’

‘They’ve gone,’ she says quietly through the door.

I swing around, air gushing from my lungs in relief. ‘They have?’

‘Yes, just left. His wife seemed a bit drunk.’

I open the door and face my friend’s pursed lips, trying to smile. It’s an epic fail. ‘A bit?’

‘Okay. Totally fucked.’ Lizzy eyes me carefully. ‘To be fair, she was sinking wine like water.’

I wince. ‘I think they were arguing. What if she knows?’ I start to shake again.

‘She doesn’t know, Annie. Calm down.’

I try to breathe steadily, and Lizzy takes my arm. ‘Come on.’ She pulls me out of the bathroom, where I think I’d happily hide for the rest of my life. ‘Micky’s lined up shots, and I think you need ten of them.’

 

I spend the rest of the evening pretending to listen to conversations while constantly wondering what Jack’s thinking, what he’s doing and what he’s saying to his wife.

Micky and Lizzy make their excuses to hang back when everyone leaves, though the knowledge of an impending inquisition doesn’t fill me with dread like it probably should. I need their support, plus Lizzy spent most of the night talking to Stephanie. What did she find out? Do I need to know? Or, more importantly, do I want to know anything about them? Because they are a they. A couple. Married.

I shut the door behind the last people to leave, then turn to find Micky and Lizzy standing in the hallway, both sober, both waiting for . . . I don’t know what. So I just shrug, the evening sinking into me and weighing me down.

‘I can’t believe it,’ Lizzy says, shaking her head.

‘Happy Housewarming to me,’ I murmur, wandering towards them. They part and let me through to the lounge, where I pick up a few cushions and chuck them on the couch on my way to the kitchen. I pour myself a nightcap in the form of a large glass of wine, and take a long glug as I stare out of the kitchen window. ‘Well that was fun,’ I say seriously.

Lizzy clears her throat and comes to stand on one side, Micky on the other, like they’re sensing my need for support. I look to each of them in turn and smile a small, hopeless smile.

‘You okay, treacle?’ Micky’s palm slides onto my shoulder and squeezes.

‘I’m fine,’ I say resolutely. ‘Honestly.’ I shake my head to myself and finish off my wine, hoping it’ll knock me out and put me out of my misery.

Both eye me doubtfully, and they have every right to. I’m not fine. I don’t sound it, and I’m certain I don’t look it. My stable, controlled existence has been rocked to the core, and I’m scared. More than I was scared by the crushing connection we had.

Because everyone wants what they can’t have.