Страница 44

'No!' I say impatiently. 'It's not Nick.'

Honestly. Clandestine affairs are hard enough as it is, without your ex-boyfriend subjecting

you to the third degree. I should never have agreed to do this stupid Pimm's stall.

'Oh my God,' Co

I look up, and my stomach gives an enormous lurch. Jack is walking over the grass towards us,

dressed as a cowboy, with leather chaps and a checked shirt and a proper cowboy hat.

He looks so completely and utterly sexy, I feel quite faint.

'He's coming this way!' hisses Co

a louder voice. 'Would you like a glass of Pimm's?'

'Thank you very much, Co

Enjoying the day?'

'Hello,' I say, my voice about six notches higher than usual. 'Yes, it's… lovely!' With

trembling hands I pour out a glass of Pimm's and give it to him.

'Emma! You forgot the mint!' says Co

'It doesn't matter about the mint,' says Jack, his eyes fixed on mine.

'You can have some mint if you want it,' I say, gazing back.

'It looks fine just the way it is.' His eyes give a tiny flash, and he takes a deep gulp of Pimm's.

This is so unreal. We can't keep our eyes off each other. Surely it's completely obvious to

everyone else what's going on? Surely Co

to be busying myself with the ice.

'So, Emma,' says Jack casually. 'Just to talk work briefly. That extra typing assignment I asked

you about. The Leopold file.'

'Er yes?' I say, flusteredly dropping an ice-cube onto the counter.

'Perhaps we could have a quick word about it before I go?' He meets my eyes. 'I have a suite

of rooms up at the house.'

'Right,' I say, my heart pounding. 'OK.'

'Say… one o'clock?'

'One o'clock it is.'

He saunters off, holding his glass of Pimm's, and I stand staring after him, dripping an icecube

onto the grass.

A suite of rooms. That can only mean one thing.

Jack and I are going to have sex.

And suddenly, with no warning, I feel really, really nervous.

'I've been so stupid!' exclaims Co

He turns to face me, his eyes burning blue. 'Emma, I know who your new man is.'

I feel a huge spasm of fear.

'No you don't,' I say quickly. 'Co

work. I just made that up. It's this guy who lives over in west London, you've never met him,

his name is… um… Gary, he works as a postman.'

'Don't lie to me! I know exactly who it is.' He folds his arms and gives me a long, penetrating

look. 'It's Tristan from Design, isn't it?'

As soon as our stint on the stall is up, I escape from Co

glass of Pimm's, glancing at my watch every two minutes. I can't quite believe how nervous I

am about this. Maybe Jack knows loads of tricks. Maybe he'll expect me to be really

sophisticated. Maybe he'll expect all kinds of amazing manoeuvres that I've never even heard

of.

I mean… I don't think I'm bad at sex.

You know. Generally speaking. All things considered.

But what sort of standard are we talking about here? I feel like I've been competing in tiny

little local shows and suddenly I'm taking on the Olympics. Jack Harper is an international

multimillionaire. He must have dated models and… and gymnasts… women with enormous

perky breasts… kinky stuff involving muscles I don't even think I possess.

How am I ever going to match up? How? I'm starting to feel sick. This was a bad, bad idea.

I'm never going to be as good as the president of Origin Software, am I? I can just imagine her,