I couldn’t wipe the grin off my face as I wandered back to the pool and bounced back onto my lounger. Anna looked over. “Are you OK?”

“Yes, actually.”

“Have you been off flirting with Brad the buff barman?”

“His name’s not Brad—it’s Carlos, and no, I just saw Daniel off to the airport.”

After considering all her options (stalkerish, mentally unstable, serial killer-like, possessive, etc. etc.) Anna finally settled on Daniel’s flying to Mexico to make sure I was OK as being romantic, but a bit over the top.

I could live with that. To me it felt lovely, caring, and yes, romantic. Apart from anything else, I no longer worried about him pushing me away in his office or about working on the Palmerston deal. Two things less to worry about in less than an hour sounded good to me. Perhaps if I was listening to it happening to someone else it would have been different and I would have thought it was a bit weird, but Daniel seemed to lay himself bare for me. I couldn’t do anything but take his explanation and accept it.

My mood improved no end after that. I still had my 10 a.m. to 11:30 a.m. moping period of going over and over what had happened with Anna, both speculating about how long things had been going on and whether they would stay together, get married, and raise the baby together, or if they would split up and Fran would end up as a single mother on benefits and if Charlie would be disinherited and forced to live on just the six figures that he got in salary each year.

It was painful and awful and horrifying, but outside of those times my denial didn’t seem like denial so much. I found myself genuinely enjoying myself—it wasn’t hard with all that sunshine and all inclusive alcohol.

Daniel had given me a phone before he had left. A new number, a new start, he had said. His number was the only one programmed in. He texted me twice a day: once when he woke up and once before he went to sleep. Just little messages about his day, about him thinking of me, asking about my day. It wasn’t too much; it was just what I needed.

Three days before we were due to leave and a little over a week after Charlie and Fran’s affair had been exposed, I decided I was going to use the lobby computer to email Charlie. From a practical point of view, I would have to contact him at some point and I’d rather do it when I was 5000 miles away, without the black cloud of dread of having to do it when I got back to London. I wanted to return to a new life, not to the remnants of my old one. Anna came with me and sat on the next terminal, checking her email. I had no idea what I would find in my inbox.

There were 12 emails from Charlie in total. I laughed in resignation. That was the best he could do. No dramatic flight out to come and find me, not even a phone call to the hotel. If he’d even called my parents, they would have emailed me to find out what was going on, but he hadn’t even done that. I guess his ego wouldn’t let him. So there it was, just 12 emails. Now I knew exactly how much I was worth to him.

They started with him confused about where I was and then when he realized I’d moved out he was angry. It dawned on him the following day that I had discovered his affair. That’s when the apologies started. Then the excuses flowed, followed by copious amounts of blame.

I was relieved I’d not read these until now. I couldn’t say I didn’t care and wasn’t wounded by his words, but now I was resigned to it. It occurred to me that I didn’t really need to read the emails to know what they would say. It was no shock that he wouldn’t really cop to it, wouldn’t take responsibility. For the first time I understood how weak that was, how unattractive he was to me. How had I not realized before? He didn’t care about me or my feelings. It was Charlie’s world and I just lived in it.

I typed out a response to him. Ignoring everything he had said I simply talked about practicalities: the joint account, the household bills in my name that needed to be changed, etc., etc. There was nothing else to say. I didn’t care anymore why he had done what he had done. It had happened and it told me all I needed to know about him and our relationship. I was right to have had my doubts about our engagement—about him—and I began to realize that those doubts hadn’t forced Charlie to sleep with Fran.

***

Anna insisted I move in with her when we got back to London, and I was grateful. The thought of flat-hunting and then living on my own for the first time ever seemed like too much change for me at the moment. And she had a great place within walking distance of work. I put some of my stuff in storage before we went on vacation, but my room was big enough to have enough around me that made me feel at home and there were some bits of mine scattered throughout the kitchen and living areas.

Daniel was in New York for the few days after we got back. We had agreed to have our first official date on the following Saturday. My jetlag would be gone, but hopefully my tan wouldn’t have faded—the perfect combination!

Going back to work was easier than I expected. Going in on the first day was helped by my tan, that glossy sheen sun kissed hair takes on and a killer new outfit that was as tight as, the neckline as low as, was possible while still being professional. I looked great, even if I did say so myself. I took Brendan out for a coffee and explained what had happened. I knew by doing that I wouldn’t have to repeat the story to people asking about my sudden and unexpected holiday—Brendan would do that, which suited me.

My drama was overtaken by lunchtime by the fact that an email was circulated by one of the partners in another department announcing he was gay. He had been married 25 years. Of course Brendan couldn’t wait to tell me that he had suspected all along. It really put Charlie cheating on me, albeit with a close friend of mine, into perspective.

I hadn’t spoken to Daniel since he left Mexico, but our texts were becoming more regular, particularly since being back in London. It was just friendly, inconsequential stuff, not pushy, not sexy, just light and nice.

When Saturday arrived, after feeling serene for the week, my anxiety kicked in. I was suddenly terrified. I didn’t think I could see him. He probably had a girlfriend in New York. He seemed to be there all the time. I’d heard about pilots leading double lives, having two families living on separate continents. Daniel might not be married to his English wife anymore but what about his life in New York? I didn’t want to open myself up to potential new heartache. It would be so much easier just to cancel our date. A Chinese takeaway and The Vow on DVD seemed like a much safer option.

I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking up excuses to give to Daniel.

Anna wandered in. “So, are you excited? What are you going to wear?”

“I don’t think I can do it. I’m going to cancel. It’s too soon.” Anna got into bed beside me but didn’t say a word. We both lay there. “Anyway, it was a bit too much that he flew to Mexico to see me. For goodness sake, who does that? No one, that’s who. I think he might have a problem and I don’t need another man with a problem. I just got rid of one. And he bought me a phone. That was weird. I think it’s all a bit weird. A bit too much. And he probably has a wife in New York. And he’s too good-looking. I could never trust a man that good-looking. His face is offensive it’s so handsome. He must have women throwing themselves at him. I just can’t do it.”

“Have you finished?” Anna asked after I stopped rambling and my breathing returned to normal. “Daniel is not Charlie, Leah. He seems to genuinely care for you. And he’s not going to kidnap you and whisk you off to Vegas and force you to marry him—it’s just dinner. You enjoy his company, so why wouldn’t you have dinner with him? But, if you feel it’s too soon, then maybe it’s too soon. Only you know for certain.”

“When did you get so grown-up and wise?”

“It’s a curse. I’m great at talking sense to other people, it’s just I don’t always follow my own advice.”

So I decided the best plan was to try and push through my anxiety and at least start to prepare for the evening. I could always cancel later but I could at least try. So after a trip to the gym, a body scrub, and long hot soak in the tub I went and got a mani-pedi and a blow dry.

When I got back to the flat Anna was on the phone to her man of the moment Greg, the paramedic. I suddenly felt bad; she must have been neglecting him because she had been spending so much time with me. What was I doing, thinking of dating some new guy when my best friend was still having to coddle me like a five year old? I grabbed my phone from inside my bag and went into my bedroom to text Daniel to cancel.

Hey, I seem to have a really bad headache coming on, Maybe we should reschedule?

I changed into my favorite raspberry silk robe, and I slumped back onto my bed. Was I doing the right thing?

Within a minute I heard the familiar ping of a new text.

Is this a real ‘I’m sick so bad I can’t have dinner with an old friend’ headache, or is it an ‘I’m freaking out and making myself sick by overthinking things’ headache?

He completely called me out, in the nicest possible way. God, that was sexy.

... the second option I think. L

OK, well I have a cure for that. Are you at Anna’s flat? D

... what do you mean, cure? L

I got no response. I didn’t quite know what to do at that point. I guess dinner wasn’t cancelled but my anxiety was alive and kicking. I went into my ensuite bathroom and started putting on my makeup. Anna came strolling in in her running clothes, an iPod strapped to her upper arm. “I’m off for a run. Are you going to cancel dinner or get over Charlie by getting under Daniel?” I play-slapped her on her arm but couldn’t help but giggle.

“I’m not getting under anyone, Anna! I’ve texted to say that I might have to cancel but I’ve not decided properly yet.”

“In the words of Charlie Brown, good grief.” Anna headed out for her run.

About two seconds later I heard her scream at the top of her voice. “Leah! Can you come here a sec?”

Jesus, it was only a small flat, I’m sure a number of Parisians would have heard that. “Coming.”

As I entered the living room I saw Anna escape just before the door closed, and then I became aware of a very tall, handsome, delicious-smelling man coming toward me.

What was Daniel doing here? He wasn’t meant to pick me up for an hour. As he came closer I started backing away from him, but he just kept on moving closer and closer toward me and I kept moving backward. The next thing I knew, my bottom met the wall and there was nowhere to go. Daniel didn’t stop until his whole body was pressed against mine, his hands resting on my shoulders, his index fingers stroking my neck. I was pinned to the wall, unable to move.

“Hey, stranger,” he said.

“Hey stranger, yourself,” I said, filling my lungs with that beautiful scent.

“You look perfect. I’m clearly not too early.”

“Daniel, I’m not even dressed yet.”

“Like I said, perfect.” And he trailed one hand down from my neck, down my décolletage, and back up to my chin.

“So, talk to me. What are you overthinking?”

I couldn’t speak. Daniel’s other hand moved from my neck and trailed down the outside of my robe, past my waist, behind me, over and down to the back of thigh, then up to my waist again. A path of fire seemed to follow his fingers, and every part of my body became hypersensitive to his touch. His growing hard-on pressed into my stomach and I gasped.

This man was like a snake charmer. I was hypnotized by him. I brought my arms around his neck but he pulled them off and pinned me to the wall with just his hips. He brought my arms above my head and held them there with one hand, trailing his other tantalizingly down my body. In a quick movement he parted the robe at my waist, his eyes not leaving mine as he trailed his index finger from my navel lower and lower until he reached between my thighs and trailed his finger along my slit forward and backward, deliciously slowly, I gasped and turned my head, blushing.

“Look at me, Leah,” he commanded. “And talk to me. Tell me what you are feeling now.”

He pushed his thumb against my clitoris, and started to circle my nub in an unrelenting rhythm. Not daring to break his gaze, I bit my lip and simply moaned, unable to form words.

“You don’t feel like you are freaking out,” he whispered. “You feel hot ...and wet around my fingers.”

I felt the pleasure intensifying and before I lost the last vestiges of control, I tried to twist my body to dislodge his thumb.

“No, you don’t.” He pushed me harder into the wall with his hips and his thumb increased its pressure, circling again and again. “You are going to stay right there, baby, looking straight at me while you come. I’ve been dreaming of what you would look like when I touched you like this: fighting against pleasure because you are so desperate to keep control, keep a lid on yourself. You just need to accept that you will give yourself up to me.” His thumb sharply changed direction.

My breath became deeper and shorter and I couldn’t help myself as I cried out, “Please. Don’t. Stop.”

My words seemed to give him pleasure. He moaned, “Baby, come for me.” His command was my final undoing. My orgasm crashed over me as I screamed out his name. “That’s it, that’s what I wanted to see. You’re so beautiful. No thinking.” His pressure on my nub lessened slightly as the last spasms shuddered out of me, and finally he withdrew his hand.

He brought his lips briefly to mine and then to my chin, his soft mouth working its way down between my breasts and over my belly. My hands finally free, I grasped his hair and savored the sensation of his breath on my skin. Looking down at him, I saw him kneel before me as he grasped my bottom with both hands and brought his tongue to the place recently vacated by his thumb. Oh my god, was he not going to stop? I could feel renewed wetness pool inside me at the sight of this beautiful man’s face buried in my sex. Alternating in rhythm and pressure, his tongue was relentless; he wasn’t giving up.

I felt a second orgasm begin to build. He slipped his thumb into me and began to pulse in and out, around and around. The sensation was just overwhelming. The most incredible waves of desire ran through my entire body, and I couldn’t hold back anymore as I confessed, “Daniel, please, you feel so good. I’m so ready for you.” I felt my entire sex throb and convulse around his thumb and tongue. Losing my ability to stand, I slumped down the wall, but Daniel was there to catch me.

He scooped me up and kicked the door to my bedroom open and placed me on the bed. I couldn’t look at him. I was too embarrassed. I had never talked ... well ... dirty during sex, but the way Daniel made me feel left me with no choice, the words just tumbled out.

Daniel sat on the bed next to me and swept the hair from my face, stroked my cheek. My hazy mind cleared enough for me to remember that he hadn’t yet climaxed and I reached across and put my hand on his thigh to initiate his pleasure. He must have read my mind as he took my hand in his and whispered, “No, Leah, not now. This is about you. Sex should never be quid pro quo.” It was a sharp reminder of Charlie; that’s what our sex life had been about, him giving to me so I would give to him. With Daniel it was different already.

“But I want to please you.” I was telling the truth. I wanted his pleasure in the way he wanted mine. I didn’t want to please him because he had pleased me.

“And you do, and you will.” He kissed me gently, running his tongue under my top lip from side to side. I moaned and he pulled back. “You’re right. You are ready for me, in every way. But for now, we have dinner plans. And I can’t fuck you properly worrying that your flatmate is listening.” Daniel grinned, then kissed me on the forehead. He morphed from Sex God Daniel to Playful Daniel in less than a second.

“What, now you worry about my flatmate?” I teased.

“She went out for a run. She told me she’d be about 45 minutes. When I get to fuck you properly, we are going to need a whole lot longer than that, believe me.”

“Is that a threat or a promise?”

“It just is what’s going to happen.” He looked at me seriously; back to Sex God Daniel.

***

Daniel’s driver was waiting for us when we got outside Anna’s building and we slipped into the black Mercedes hand in hand. “Where are we going?”

Daniel was wearing soft, faded jeans and a long-sleeved, midnight blue t-shirt. It was a sexy, comfortable vibe, so when I dressed I followed his lead in tight, dark blue jeans and a shocking pink casual shirt, teamed with platform, studded ankle boots—it wasn’t a choice for people going to a private members’ club in Mayfair, that’s for sure. “I thought we could keep it casual and local tonight, if that’s OK with you? I know a place, just around the corner from me.” He grinned at me.

“Sounds perfect.” I grinned back.

***

Dinner was delicious. The place was very authentically Italian and the owner greeted Daniel like a son, with a big bear hug that Daniel returned with enthusiasm.

As we sat down, Daniel pouted. “This table is too big, I need to be closer to you.”

“I think they need to have somewhere to put the food,” I teased in response. He placed his fingers over mine, stroking my skin up toward my elbow. The now-familiar heat of my desire for Daniel’s touch started to increase my body temperature. I quickly withdrew my hand and broke our eye contact as I fanned myself with the specials menu.

“Have some control, Leah. We are in public,” Daniel teased.

“Then stop touching me!” I exclaimed in a whisper.

“Hmm, nope. Not ever.”

Thankfully our waiter interrupted. “Mr. Daniel, so good to see you with a lady tonight!” The waiter turned to me when he said “Mr. Daniel, he works so hard he says he has no time for a lady, no time for love, and always eats alone. So I am very pleased to see you tonight.” Daniel laughed good-naturedly at the indiscretions of his host.

“I pay him to say that to all the girls I bring here!” He looked at me. “I’m kidding!” he responded at my scowl.

Daniel went on to order for us, checking a couple of times about my preferences, but choosing what I was going to eat. How sexy was that?

I couldn’t stop myself from staring at him throughout our meal. His eyes barely left mine. It was very easy between us; it didn’t seem like a first date and wasn’t as awkward as I expected—not awkward at all—but I guess that was the point of Daniel’s anti-anxiety master class which I participated in earlier. I flushed with the memory of my words to him and the images of him buried between my thighs caused a rush of liquid to my sex.

“We need to leave, baby. Seeing that look that just ran across your face has made me as hard as steel. I need you naked right now.”

We tripped over ourselves trying to get out of the restaurant as quickly as was humanly possible. Bursting out onto the street I looked around for the car.

Daniel grabbed me. “My place is less than a block up.” He put his arm around my shoulders and I snaked an arm around his waist and leant into him, breathing in his masculine scent that was increasingly familiar to me.

I was excited to see where he lived; I wanted to know everything about him. When we stopped outside a three-story Georgian mansion, I looked at him curiously. Surely the whole house wasn’t his. It must be converted into flats. A flat around here would run into millions.

No, apparently the whole house was his. What the what? Who had I just had dinner with? He had had it remodeled when his ex-wife moved out—it looked like it had just been done. The colors were pale beiges and rich chocolates, like Kelly Hoppen lived in it. Of course, that was because apparently Kelly Hoppen had designed the remodel and redecoration.

He seemed so comfortable and at home there, which I guess made sense, but I had expected more of a bachelor pad, something less warm and inviting, less comfortable The entire ground floor was open plan; we wandered into the kitchen area and Daniel kicked off his shoes and padded to the fridge in his socks. Cute.

He brought out a bottle of wine, poured us two glasses, and handed one to me, brushing my fingers as he did. I blinked slowly in response to the touch.

“You are so sexy when you do your slow-motion blink.” And his lips were on mine in an instant and he grabbed my wine and placed it on the counter behind me; my bottom quickly followed as he lifted me up and placed me on the counter in front of the wine.

The desire that had inflamed me back in the restaurant returned. I buried my hands in his hair, pulled him deeper into me. He undid the buttons on my shirt pulled at my lace-covered nipples with his thumb and forefinger. Was it possible to climax like this, just from his kiss and his hands on my breasts? I was about to find out.

“Why ... what ... why did you stop?” I stuttered.

He steadied himself using the counter as a support, avoiding my eyes. After what seemed like three days, his breathing returned to normal and he looked at me.

“Leah, are you sure about this? I don’t want to push you into anything. I want this—I need this—to be about you and me, and not you and Charlie.”

I laughed and threw my head back and he pouted and crossed his arms across his body. He was so cute when he was sulking. I reached up and stroked his face and his hand covered mine

“Charlie who? If you don’t think I want you right now from your hair follicles to the tips of your toes, then we have been on different dates this evening. All I want to know is why we are both fully clothed and in your kitchen. I thought you were going to fuck me into next week. I’m beginning to think you are all talk, Mr. Armitage.”