She didn’t die. She paid and managed to get to the flower shop on slightly wobbly legs, squeezing her handbag close to her side, afraid of what the contents really meant. Things were changing in her carefully constructed world. For three and a half years, she’d built an existence—yes, that’s what it was. An existence. Not a life. Not a living. She’d survived each day. Barely.

And now, whether it was just that the grieving had lessened to a point where she could raise her head above the parapet again, whether it was because she just couldn’t let Evie grow up with a mother who was closed off from any idea of a relationship, or whether it was because Nick was physically back in her life, she didn’t know.

Too many possibilities were cropping up in her head. He was cropping up in her head and, if she was honest, in her heart. Too much.

Her instinct was to protect herself from any kind of hurt a relationship or sex, or even just that kiss, could rain down on her. But struggling alongside that was the hot flush of an incessant desire she couldn’t fight. Didn’t want to.

But should.

Even now, at the end of the day, she could have sworn her cheeks were still red as she looked down at her handbag and imagined the contents. Imagined using them.

Nick’s face popped into her head. Again.

Oh God. He’d said he was in big trouble when it came to her, but that made two of them. The more she thought about it, the more she wanted to use the condoms. With him.

Whatever happened, her daughter mustn’t find them. Jenna zipped her bag and put it on a high shelf above Chloe’s desk in the back room. Having been dropped off at the shop by Bridget, Evie was sitting in her favourite place: the corner of the shop on a big red cushion on the floor of her pop-up castle, holding a teddy and a book. ‘Mamma?’

‘Yes, honey.’

‘Read story?’

‘I can’t, baby. I’m sorry. Mamma has to work.’ Jenna shoved all thoughts of Nick aside as best she could and tried to focus on her here and now. The never-ending guilt of the working mother seeped through her—trying to create a successful life for both of them versus spending precious time with her child. At least this way she could try to do both. Or do both badly…. The guilt was suffused by an overwhelming love for the little girl who had been the only reason she hadn’t followed Ollie to an early grave.

Evie’s large eyes narrowed as she pouted. ‘Read story, Mamma.’

Jenna looked up from the laptop on the counter. ‘Why don’t you tell Teddy a story, Evie? What would you tell him?’

Evie pressed her lips together as she thought, earnestly. ‘Hmmm. About a girl called Evie?’

Of course. Jenna’s heart melted. ‘Yes, darling, tell him a story about a brilliantly clever girl called Evie. Mamma needs to sort out a few things, make some calls and look after anyone who comes into the shop. Okay?’

‘Okay, Mamma.’

Bridget had gone for an early dinner with Anjini. Chloe had gone off to visit Vaughn at the restaurant and speak to Tyler about the break-in suspect. That left Jenna to run the shop, do the childcare and ring around the list of all the celebrants she’d googled who lived in a twenty-five-mile radius.

She was starting to get desperate. Only a couple of weeks to go and no one would agree to performing the ceremony. So far, the calls had all gone in a similar vein: yes, they were available. Yes, they could come to Notting Hill. No, not if the bride and groom didn’t know.

A new name had popped up in the search engine since the last time she’d looked. Andrew Frame. Celebrant. For all stages of life.

She visited his website. Middle-aged gentleman. A photo of him and a little dog by his side in what looked like his back garden. Nice smile. Kind eyes. Hair a little wayward, in a goofy mad-professor kind of way. A little rotund, but avuncular. She called him, but the phone rang straight to voice mail. So she sent him an email giving the facts straight out—no point in beating about the bush at this stage. She pressed send, closed her eyes and crossed her fingers. ‘Please, please say yes.’

‘Yes.’

A man’s voice, loud and in the room.

‘What the hell!’ Nick? Again. Her heart jumped straight into the uneven rhythm it always did when he was around. He’d come in to the shop and she hadn’t heard him, and now he was standing there, holding a large cardboard box in front of his uniform. ‘Wow. Do they teach you how to sneak up on people in the services?’

‘Yes, they do. That’s kind of how it works, the element of surprise and all that.’

‘Ah, yes, I suppose it is.’ Her mind’s eye flicked to the contents of the paper bag in her tote, high on the shelf in the office. Her mouth suddenly became dry. ‘To what do I owe this pleasure?’

‘Tell me what I’m saying yes to first.’ Could a man have sparkling eyes? Because right now the brown of his looked pretty gorgeous with the flecks of caramel and golds catching the light.

She tried not to concentrate too much on them. ‘Oh, I’ve emailed a celebrant about Chloe and Vaughn’s wedding.’

‘Oh yes. The infamous wedding.’ The way he said it sounded just like everyone else’s reaction.

‘Please don’t be negative. I’m nearly there. Kind of. Well, I’ll still have a lot to sort out on the day, but I have most things in order. I need to think about music. Do you know any one good at that kind of thing?’

His eyebrows rose. ‘Normally I’d suggest you ask the bride and groom for their favourite songs, anything with special meaning, but other than that, I don’t know. Just brainstorm some popular wedding songs, that should do it.’

‘Hey, I could ask all the guests to send me their favourite songs. Genius.’

‘Indeed. Great idea. You could do a mix-tape. You know, a digital version, but same principle.’

‘Ah, and play it on what? I don’t have a music system. I was thinking of lugging my speakers to the venue, but they’re not very loud, not when there’s people chattering and definitely not loud enough for dancing.’

‘And you need dancing? Of course you do. It’s a wedding.’ He thought for a moment as he placed the box onto the counter along with his uniform jacket. ‘I could ask at work. We have a PA we use for events, recruitment evenings, that kind of thing. They might let you hire it, or even borrow it for free.’

‘Oh, thank you! You’re a regular knight in shiny police uniform.’ She stretched across the counter and brushed her lips against his cheek—a superficial gesture and words that suddenly seemed loaded with meaning. How many times did she need to tell herself to keep this in friendly territory? And how many times did she need to show her daughter that women could do anything they wanted, they didn’t need a man to help? She froze. ‘I… I mean—’

‘Hey, glad to help.’ He was so close. So very close. Close enough for her to catch his scent in the air and wish she was bathed in it. To feel the warmth of his breath on her neck and wish his mouth was there instead.

If she tilted her head just a little, she could brush her lips against his mouth instead of his cheek.

The realisation sent her stomach into a frenzy of butterflies. He was a good man, and she was fighting every step of the way not to take things deeper, further. Further than she’d been prepared to go for a very long time. For so long her head had been filled with surviving, bringing up her daughter, worry. Now it was just filled with him.

He stepped back. ‘Okay. Good.’

Her throat didn’t seem to work very well. ‘Right. What’s in the box?’

‘You need to get that bell fixed, and luckily for you, I have just the thing.’ Smiling at last, he reached into the box and pulled out a smaller white box. ‘Here. Plus a new lock for the back door and an alarm.’

‘Thank you, but the locksmith changed the locks the other day and the glazier replaced the glass.’ She bit her lip, trying not to be overwhelmed by the gesture. ‘You don’t have to rescue me. I’m fine.’

‘Okay. No problem. But an alarm? Did you get one of those? And a bell for the front door. Clearly you haven’t fixed that.’

‘I was waiting until I earned a bit more cash before I put in an alarm.’

‘Consider this a thank you gift then for helping me move into my apartment. It’s a whole security system that you control with an app. It has cameras I can mount in here and in the office and out the back door as well as the front. And the locking system has a touchscreen deadbolt.’

‘Nothing simple then? Do I need a master’s degree to work it?’ She still wanted to kiss him. So much.

‘No, you’ll be fine. But, unfortunately, simple doesn’t stop the bad guys, Jenna. I need you and Evie to be safe.’ Need? She saw the moment he realised what he’d said. His head shook minutely, as if checking himself, berating for allowing feelings to escape his famous clinical resolve. ‘I mean, it’s London, stuff happens. You can’t be too careful.’

‘It’s okay. Thank you. Thanks so much.’

‘No.’ He put the box down and looked at her, his gaze intense. ‘You know what? I do need you to be safe. Okay?’

Okay. Wow.

‘You have a little girl, and I couldn’t live with myself if anything happened to either of you. So, you’ll have a security system I’m satisfied with.’

She didn’t know what to say. Tears pricked her eyes. No one had ever been so concerned about her and Evie’s wellbeing.

‘Mamma?’ Evie stopped whispering to the teddy bear and crawled out from the castle. ‘Who dat man?’

Grateful for the distraction, Jenna scrubbed her cheek with her hand and went over to her daughter. ‘This is Nick. He’s my friend.’

Nick swallowed, his shoulders relaxing, and waved. ‘Hey, Evie. Cool castle.’

‘Not pink. It’s proper castle.’ She tugged proudly on the painted turreted fabric and the pop-up tent swayed precariously.

‘There are tons of princess castles, all pink and flouncy, but Evie wanted what she called a real one. Like her friend Max at nursery school has,’ Jenna explained.

‘Too right. You should have whatever castle you want.’ He crouched down to have a look inside. ‘Who’s that?’

‘Teddy. I reading a story.’

‘Cool. What’s it about?’

Evie crawled in, grabbed her book and crawled back out. ‘It’s a book about Evie.’

‘There’s a book about Evie? About you?’ He took it from her and looked at the cover.

Once her ovaries had stopped jumping up and down as she watched Nick chatting to her daughter, Jenna started to explain. ‘You get them made with your child’s name—oh.’ A woman had walked into the shop. A customer. ‘Nick, would you mind reading to Evie?’

His smile fell. He looked terrified. ‘What? Me? Her? Book?’

‘Yes. It’s not difficult.’

‘Negotiating with rebel insurgents isn’t difficult. Living for months in the desert on crap rations isn’t difficult. Doing this…’ He held the book up. ‘Is beyond difficult.’

‘You’ll survive.’ For a few minutes, Jenna had to leave them to it and hoped they’d get on together.

The woman had trouble deciding on exactly what she wanted by way of a birthday bunch. Thirty pounds, no forty. A block colour? No. A riot of colour? All white? In the end, she went for a kaleidoscope of reds and yellows and greens; chrysanthemums, germini and sunflowers. Lovely, but Jenna hoped the birthday girl was wearing sunglasses.

It was very quiet when she finally turned the lock on the front door and switched the sign to closed. ‘Nick?’

‘In here,’ he whispered from inside the castle. ‘She’s asleep and I’m stuck.’

‘Oh, Evie. Not so difficult after all?’

‘A doddle. She’s a pushover.’

Jenna’s heart did a little loop-the-loop as she peered in and saw Nick’s large frame hunched almost in half with Evie fast asleep in the crook of his arm, Teddy clutched close to her chest. They looked so content. So perfect. So right. The man had wrestled a child to sleep, and he looked like he’d won a gold medal. Seemed to her like he was the pushover.

When she was first pregnant, this was how she’d envisaged her life turning out, with a man she cared for and her baby daughter, sharing moments. Tender moments. Tears threatened again. She blinked them away. Because she wasn’t looking for a father for Evie, or for a man to share moments with herself. But Nick kept coming back, and she kept enjoying it. Too much. He seemed to know how to get to the core of her.

Something shifted inside her as she looked at them, something broke free and she felt her heart swell. He was a good man. A great man. Gentle and kind and loyal and… hot. He was, in essence, perfect. Or as perfect as she believed anyone could ever be.

The thrill of warning adrenalin rushed through her. She was on dangerous ground feeling things like this.

Breathing out all the pent-up emotion, she tried to wriggle in to the tent and help untangle the man and the child. ‘Can you…? Should I…?’

He kept his voice low, but he was laughing too. ‘I really don’t think there’s enough room for us all in here. You go out first. Then I’ll settle her on the cushion.’ He looked up, and maybe he caught the blur of tears or maybe it was the look on her face that gave her away. ‘Hey, what’s wrong?’

‘Nothing. I’m fine. Honestly. I’m just tired.’

‘I’m not surprised. You do too much.’ He raised his free hand and cupped her cheek, his thumb stroking her skin softly. She didn’t know if even he realised he was doing it. He’d dropped his guard, or rather her daughter had pushed against it enough to see cracks. He smiled at her, and in that smile were a thousand whispers of hope. Hope? Or a promise, or just a wonderful dream. Whichever, she was under his spell and wasn’t sure she could break free.

In this position, Chloe would just grab him and lock lips. But Jenna wasn’t Chloe. She was unsure and scared and couldn’t control her own heart rate, never mind her sudden and urgent sexual need.

‘Do you want to wriggle in next to her and get some rest while I go sort out the locks?’ he asked.

No. She wanted to wriggle in next to him and do things that were far from restful. She cleared her throat. ‘I’m fine. Maybe I’ll go pop the kettle on. Once she’s gone off, she’s dead to the world.’

‘Then we’d better get started before she wakes up.’ He winked and smiled. And Jenna read a hundred meanings into those words, but longed for just one.

---

So this was a big mistake. The alarm. The little girl. Jenna.

Jenna in the dress she’d worn at the shop opening—the one that showed off her waist and pushed up her breasts and made him want to dive right in and never come up for air.

God. He was doomed. Lost.

The stupid, reckless putting his hand on her cheek thing. What the hell? This wasn’t some ridiculous fairy tale; this was real. Her feelings were real. He could see it in her eyes each time she looked at him. And so were his. Too real.

Every smile from her made a chink in his armour. Every laugh let more light in. He was on unsteady ground here, and the best option would have been to leave immediately. But he wasn’t going to have them vulnerable to any ratbag burglar; he was going to set up the security system.

Then leave.

Leave.

He gently slipped his arm out from under Evie. God, she was cute. The perfect storybook kid with her hair tugged tight into two… what were they called? Pigtails? Ponytails? Plaits? God knew. She’d slipped too easily under his skin, despite the first meeting that had left his shoes with a strange smell.

But one thing life had taught him was to not get too involved with a kid that wasn’t yours. He’d learnt that the hard way, after he’d fallen head over heels with the tumbling grey blob on the ultrasound screen. Fallen hard and fast and let a wild, fierce love bloom in his chest. Until the fallout came.

The way he’d got over Helen within weeks had told him she definitely hadn’t been the right woman for him after all. But the ache for that unborn babe—who he’d discovered too late wasn’t his—had taken months to go.

He stretched out a crampy foot, then the other leg. Careful not to touch mother or child.

Crawl out. Alarm. Leave. That was his OP for the next thirty minutes.

If only it was that easy.

The tent door had been rolled back for easy access, but it was still too small for an adult to walk through. Even crawling was hard. He watched Jenna wriggle backwards out of the tent; the way she stretched back, every movement deliberate and considered, made him want her even more. The way she moved so gently so as not to wake her child made him ache for her gentle hands to be on him. That serious expression on him. That luscious mouth taut in concentration on him.

He was in a hell of his own making.

He backed out after Jenna and stood slowly so as not to catch her straightening her clothes like he had to, having been all cramped up. He tucked his uniform shirt properly into his trousers and turned, catching her eyes darting from his waist to a spot somewhere over his shoulder.

Her cheeks darkened. Her eyes glittered. Slowly, she lowered her gaze and locked with his, her pupils large, her mouth open just a fraction. Her lips were plump and glossy and made for kissing. She smiled and shrugged. ‘Sorry. Couldn’t resist a peek.’

Sorry not sorry, as far as he could see.

This was so not Jenna. The way his heart punched like bullets in his chest wasn’t him. Agony. Desperate. ‘Right. I’ll make a start on the back door, okay?’

‘Yes. Thanks.’ She swallowed, turned and headed to the counter, her place of safety. The barrier she liked to put between herself and everyone else. ‘Er, give me a shout if you need me.’

I need you. Where the hell had that come from? ‘I won’t.’

He picked up the box, using it as his own barrier, and stalked on through to the office. The first bit was easy, just fixing the cameras to the walls and attaching wires to the locks, and as each moment passed, he managed to flush out some of the creeping lust.

The next bit was trickier because it involved sitting next to Jenna at the computer as he installed the software, something he couldn’t do without the password. She insisted on leaning over and tapping things on the keyboard. He closed his eyes as she leaned across him for the nth time. ‘Jenna, just tell me the details. I can input the data myself.’

‘It’s quicker if I just do it. You are woefully slow at typing.’ Her hair fell across his chest as she put her hands on the keyboard. Her scent—the flowers she spent every day with—filled the air. She was there. There.

And he had two options.

The first was to push back his chair and give her space. The second…

Well, he always was a man with a Plan B.

His fingers seemed to move of their own accord as he reached out and stroked the back of her head, twisting his fingers into her hair tie and letting the topknot locks fall into his hands like ribbons of silk.

‘Nick?’ She turned, swivelling in the office chair to face him. The second time she said his name, it was on a moan. Undone. ‘Nick.’

‘God. I can’t do this.’ All he’d wanted to do was make sure her shop was safe. Make sure she was safe. To protect her. And he should have been doing it now too, by walking away.

He didn’t want to acknowledge the emotions swimming in his chest. He let go of her hair. Went to stand. To leave. As per his OP. Job not quite done, he’d come back when she wasn’t here. Later.

But, first glancing to make sure the tent was out of view, she pushed him back down on the chair. Her eyes were filled with fire and fear and want. She shook her head. Sorry, not sorry. Then she climbed on to his lap, facing him, and took his face in her hands.

‘I can. I can do this,’ she whispered. Her gaze held his, and time seemed to stop and all the reasons why he shouldn’t do this melted away, replaced with feral and visceral sparks of pleasure and need. She was pretending to be cool and confident, but she was trembling as she lowered her mouth to his, and his self-control snapped, burnt out by the fire now raging inside him.

He tugged her to him, held her face fast as he kissed her, hard and hungry, and the bullets in his heart just kept coming rat-a-tat-tat as if firing holes into his ribcage. Then, as she slid her tongue into his mouth, those chinks in his chest were filled with heat and light and hunger. All his senses were aware of only her. Her smell. Her taste. The feel of her body against his.

He ran his hand over her dress, palmed her breast through the fabric. But it wasn’t enough. Never enough. One kiss, one touch, and he knew he’d never have enough of her.

He slipped his fingers into the soft cushion of her cleavage, caught the sweet tight bud of her nipple and damned near lost all control as she whimpered against him. His other hand went to the hem of her dress, and he slid his hand up her thigh. She straddled him, raising her hips, enabling his thumb to probe deeper. She was damp and ready for him.

And, God, it was too tempting to unzip and take her right now, but he wanted to take his time, to savour her. He wanted to slowly peel her clothes away, along with those layers of trepidation. He wanted to kiss her slowly, and quickly, and every way in between. He wanted… hell, he wanted her. Every smile, every heartbeat, every soft touch, every night and every sunrise.

She moaned into his mouth, grinding against him, and his erection strained. ‘Hey, hey. Good old army boy, standing to attention.’

He pulled away, laughing, trying to keep his voice down, his need down; because even out of view, there was a small child not ten metres away. He held Jenna by the shoulders, looking at her swollen lips, her dishevelled hair. God, she was even more beautiful undone. ‘Jenna? Is this really you?’

She seemed surprised to be acting like this, to being here on his lap. ‘I don’t know. But I like it.’

‘Me too.’

Nevertheless, he tugged up the straps of her dress back into pace and smoothed down her hair. ‘I want you, Jenna, but not here, not like this. Evie’s in there. Even if she’s asleep, it doesn’t feel right.’

‘You’re too good.’ She nodded, then climbed off his knees, laughing. ‘Oh, sorry, I must have stopped the circulation in your legs with my hefty backside.’

‘You have got to be joking.’ He grabbed it and squeezed, wishing he could be nestled into it. ‘My lap is its rightful place. Anytime.’ He laughed. ‘All the time.’

‘You mean that?’ She held his gaze. One moment. Two.

Did he mean that? All the time was a massive jump from two stolen kisses and a little play, but part of him wanted that. Yes. She made him smile, and he hadn’t done that for a long time.

The chatter of her daughter had them both turning towards the door. ‘Oh.’ Jenna looked conflicted. Turned on and maternal at the same time, which just made him turned on all the more. Here or there? ‘She’s awake.’

He tapped her backside. ‘Go to her.’

‘Yes. But she’s quiet for now. Look—’ Jenna took hold of his hand and bit down on her lip. Cautious. ‘Er…’

Ah, he joined the dots. Here came the flick off. Too complicated. Too much too soon. Too… everything. ‘Yes?’

Her eyes widened. ‘This friends thing isn’t working, is it?’

It was okay. She was right. It had been another foolish mistake, another step over the line. Although this time they were both smiling, and the aftermath wasn’t quite so awkward. In fact, there was no regret, just an unerring need to do it again. All the way. But friends didn’t do that. Right? ‘No. It really isn’t.’

She dropped his hand and threw him a smile over her shoulder as she walked to the door. ‘Thank God for that.’

---

Wow. Jenna internally fist-pumped as she wandered over to the tent. She’d done a Chloe and gone right in there to his mouth like a heat-seeking missile. And, even better, he’d indicated he wanted more. And he’d been concerned about Evie catching them or being left alone when other men would have disregarded her and led with their pants.

She bent to look into the tent. There Evie was, sitting up with Teddy, sleep still in her eyes. And a pen in her hand. ‘Hey, sweetie. You had a good sleep?’

‘Mamma?’

She’d been making out in the next room while her daughter slept in here. What the heck were they thinking?

But then, how the hell did anyone ever have siblings? Some kind of making out happened when kids were in the rooms next door.

The familiar surge of guilt hit her in the gut. ‘Yes, honey?’

‘I drew you a picture.’ Evie beamed, her chest almost as puffed as Nick’s had been earlier. From behind her back, Evie pulled out a black notepad.

‘What’s that?’ Jenna hadn’t seen that book before. She took a closer look and her heart rattled. ‘Oh my God. You drew in Nick’s work notepad?’

Three… things, drawn in heavy biro, looked a lot like sperms floating across the lined paper. A crude drawing of a hand across neat writing. She could see words underneath the wobbly sperm legs; names and dates and times in capital letters. This was evidence or something. To be used in court if need be. She knew that because she’d seen it on Line Of Duty.

Evie had drawn on evidence. Her gut contracted. Tight. Bloody, bloody hell.

‘Hey. All okay?’ He was standing behind her, his tone light. Not for long. ‘I should get going. It’s getting late.’

She crawled out of the tent. Gah, this was getting harder by the second. She couldn’t stop the wince as she faced him. ‘I’m so sorry, Nick. Evie drew in your work book.’

His eyebrows rose. He opened his mouth. Closed it. She could see the battle behind his eyes before he smiled. ‘Ah, okay. That’s… fine.’

It wasn’t. ‘Don’t you have to use these notebooks in case you have to give evidence or something?’

‘Yes.’ He took hold of Evie’s outstretched hand and kept on smiling as he turned the pages. Three pages of sperm things. The smile didn’t drop. He was always smiling when it came to these disasters. How could he smile when they’d just broken so many rules? But he was trying to remain calm in front of Evie, she realised. He didn’t want to make her feel bad. ‘Okay. Good pictures, Evie. They’re supposed to be issuing us with large screen smartphones, but for some reason, it hasn’t got round to our station yet.’

‘The sooner the better then.’

This time he turned to look at Jenna and his smile diminished. ‘Maybe not. She’ll be dialling in to the interview room and interrogating the criminals.’

‘I wouldn’t put it past her.’ It served Jenna right for touching him, wanting to kiss him. Oh God, she’d kissed him again. He’d given her a chance to get out and she hadn’t taken it. She’d thought only of herself and her own needs and wants. She’d kissed him. And he’d kissed her back. ‘I’m so sorry.’

‘It’s okay. My fault. It must have dropped out of my pocket.’

It was both their faults. They should have been more careful. ‘Will you get into trouble?’

‘Probably. I’m sure it won’t matter in the long run.’ He gave a shrug that told her he was more upset about this than he was making out. He was the newbie trying to make a good impression, and this would count against him. He was probably cursing a thousand words under his breath.

Evie scowled. ‘It’s a picture, Mamma. Of you and dat man. In my family tree.’

They’d been doing a crude version of a family tree at nursery school. They’d drawn wobbly lines round their little hands and made branches out of their fingers. Stuck pictures of faces on fingertips. Nana. Aunty Chloe. Mamma. The teacher had explained that families were made up of all different kinds of people, and no two families were the same. But even so, Evie had asked why there were no men on the photos on her fingers.

Ollie didn’t count, apparently, because he was with the angels and not around at tea time. Or to read a story in a pop-up castle.

Jenna breathed out slowly. Ollie counted. But not as much as a real live person. Clearly.

‘Families. Look.’ Evie tiptoed to take the book from Nick and ran a chubby finger over one of her drawings, pointing first to the larger sperm. ‘Look, dat man.’

‘This is Nick?’

‘Yes. And this is Mamma. And me.’

Jenna started to feel a little sick. Nick looked like he did too. His eyes had lost not just the heat of before, but his general warmth too. He looked haunted. Hollowed out. She tried to make things clear. Crystal. ‘Nick’s not in our family, sweetie.’

Evie nodded. ‘But he’s nice.’ Out of the mouth of babes. The little girl sidled alongside him, her pigtails swinging, and slipped her tiny hand into his big one. ‘Come read the story again, Nick.’

Now he looked just plain scared.

Which was nothing compared to the panic in her gut. He was being backed into a corner and his reaction wasn’t pretty. What did that mean for what they’d just been doing in the office? ‘Yes, he is nice. But he’s not—’

‘I should go. I need to go, Evie. We’ll do another story time another day. Okay?’ He shook his head and eased the notepad out of Evie’s fingers and let go of her hand. His back was ramrod straight as he turned and grabbed his jacket. With another nod, he flicked the lock and was gone. Those chinks in his heart, that she’d thought she’d glimpsed, were well and truly closed over.

Her throat felt scratched and raw. For a few minutes, she’d thought this might actually work. Somehow. By some sort of miracle.

But there it was, Jenna’s recipe for disaster; take one sweet and hot kiss and sour it with the pressure of real intimacy and a little girl’s trust.

Because it wasn’t so much the problem of the drawing in his notepad. It was the look on his face when Evie said he was part of their family that had been the killer.