Risk of a Lifetime

But there was one thing, a rich sapphire-blue maxi dress in soft jersey that she’d bought last summer that she could dress up or down, and she really, really didn’t want to wear jeans and a top again. She hardly ever went out. This was the first time in ages, and she knew it wasn’t a date, but there was no harm in looking nice, was there?

And at least it didn’t smell of coffee.

She put it on, ripped it off again and put a strappy white vest top on underneath, then pulled it on again and stood back. Better. Cleavage would send out a whole different message, one she wasn’t happy with—and just to be on the safe side, she was wearing a T-shirt bra with moulded cups so her nipples wouldn’t show if she got chilly. He’d seen quite enough of them today already.

She slid her feet into some pretty little flat pumps, pulled on a cardi, contemplated and dismissed a necklace and at the last minute spritzed herself with perfume.

It was evening, after all, and she couldn’t wear it at work, so why not? She checked her lippy, stood back for another look and then glanced at her watch.

Yikes. She was going to have to run.

‘Bye, Mum,’ she said, sticking her head round the door.

‘Bye, darling. You look lovely. Have a good time.’

‘Thanks, I will. Call if you need me, I’ve got my phone on silent. Got to dash.’

She grabbed her bag, debated a jacket and then went without it. No time to dither, no time to stroll there in a leisurely fashion, just a rapid walk that brought her up the steps to the Yoxburgh Playhouse at a hair past seven-fifteen.

She walked in, went up to the bar and he was standing there waiting for her, looking good enough to eat in a casual linen blazer, jeans and a blinding white shirt open at the neck to reveal that oh-so-masculine throat. He hadn’t shaved, and the dark shadow on his jaw just added to the tantalising aura of danger that surrounded him.

His smile made her heart trip faster.

‘Hi. Sorry I’m late.’

‘You’re not—well, only a few seconds. Here, have a drink.’

She took the glass, conscious of the fact that she was windswept, breathing hard and would probably start to glow like a beacon in a moment. ‘Thank you.’

‘My pleasure. You look lovely, by the way. Pretty dress.’

‘Thanks. I don’t really have a lot of choice, and it’s nice to have a chance to wear it.’

‘It suits you. That colour really works with your eyes.’

‘What, the shadows underneath?’

He chuckled. ‘You really need to learn to take a compliment, Annie.’

Well, no, she didn’t. She’d had compliments, bucketloads of them, but they’d all been lies and frankly she didn’t care if she never heard another one. As she’d pointed out to him, being suspicious was a habit.

‘Sorry. I don’t trust compliments.’

He frowned, opened his mouth as if to say something and then shut it again, but his eyes were frank and assessing, and she got the feeling there wasn’t much he didn’t see.

And that made her uneasy. She didn’t want to be the object of his scrutiny, so she changed the subject fast.

‘So—remind me of the plot?’

One of those strong, dark eyebrows quirked, but he let her get away with it.

‘Oh, it’s crazy. Two daffy old sisters who poison their lodgers and bury them in the cellar in graves dug by a brother who thinks he’s Teddy Roosevelt and he’s digging the Panama Canal, and another brother who’s in love with the preacher’s daughter. I haven’t seen it for years but it’s very, very funny.’

‘It sounds chaotic. I was trying to remember if I’d ever seen it, but I don’t think I have. What a shame about Elizabeth’s fall.’

‘Mmm. They were really looking forward to it. She’s doing OK, by the way. I rang a little while ago and she was out of surgery and back on the ward and it all went well.’

‘Good. Well, here’s to them.’

She raised her glass, and he clinked his against it and held her eyes with his as he took the first sip.

They smouldered slightly—or was it just her imagination? She looked away, suddenly conscious of his nearness in the now-crowded bar, and she felt the warmth from her brisk walk beginning to make itself felt.

‘Gosh, it’s getting hot in here,’ she said, peeling off her cardi and slinging it over her arm.

‘It’ll be warm in the auditorium, too. We’d better drink up and go and find our seats.’

‘Good idea.’ She drained her glass, felt the wine hit her system and wished she’d had a little more to eat before she’d come out. All she needed was to trip over the steps and fall flat on her face.

But she didn’t fall, and he held her elbow and ushered her politely to her seat, folding it down for her and then sitting after she was settled.

Bone-deep good manners.

And suddenly she felt safer, less threatened, because for all he was gorgeous, he’d said and done nothing to make her feel uncomfortable. It was just her own reaction to him, and she could manage that. It was under her control.

It would be fine.

And it was, right up until the time the lights dimmed, the audience went quiet and her arm brushed against his in the narrow seats.

He’d taken off his jacket, turned back his sleeves and the soft hairs on his forearm teased her skin, making the tiny hairs on the back of her neck stand to attention.

Heat shot through her, and she shifted subtly, moving slightly out of his way, but there was someone on the other side who was taking the whole armrest, so she shifted back again, right into the warm, fragrant air that surrounded him, the scent of cologne drifting over her and making her want to lean closer and breathe him in.

She resisted the urge, just folded her hands in her lap to keep her elbows out of mischief, and then the action on stage caught her attention and she made herself forget about him and let the experience take over.

* * *

‘That was so, so funny.’

‘Wasn’t it? Utterly hilarious. Very physical. I’m surprised some of the cast haven’t been in to see us before now. They did Alan Ayckbourn’s Noises Off when I was in Nottingham, and someone came in with a broken leg from falling down the stairs one too many times.’

‘Ouch. The things they do for their art.’ Annie tugged her cardi closer round her shoulders as they headed for the street. ‘Gosh, it’s cooled off. I am an idiot, I nearly brought a jacket but I was running late and it seemed quite warm at seven.’

‘Here.’

Before she could protest, she felt the weight of his blazer draped around her shoulders, warm from his body and carrying the scent of his cologne. It was like wearing him, and she breathed in slowly and drew the heady essence of him deep into her lungs.

‘Better?’