Page 119 of Who’s That Girl?

‘Right, you need to pull your top down a little,’ he instructs firmly.

Dutifully I pull down the collar of my blouse.

‘No, more than that.’

My heart beating fast, I undo the top buttons and shrug it down, revealing my bra straps.

It’s hot in the late-afternoon sun and I feel a prickle of perspiration on my chest.

‘OK, I’m just going to move these …’ Gently he hooks his fingers underneath my bra straps and lets them slide down my arms.

I can feel my breath quickening, my ribcage rising and falling.

‘Where exactly is it sore? Here?’ His fingers brush against the nape of my neck.

‘Um … a little lower …’ My throat has gone all tight and my voice comes out in a whisper.

His fingers gently trace underneath my hairline, down my vertebrae, circling lower and lower. ‘Here?’

I can barely speak. ‘Yes, there,’ I manage. A tingle rushes down into my groin, all the way down my legs. A tugging, like a thread running between us. I never even came close to this with Miles. It’s so erotic. I feel more excited than I’ve felt in years. If ever.

‘Now, this is going to be a little cold.’

I let out a gasp as he presses the freezing-cold ice against my neck.

‘Sshh,’ he murmurs, sliding his arm round my shoulders as my body gives a little shudder. ‘Hold still.’

I do as I’m told and breathe in, sucking in the air between my teeth and holding it tight inside me. Every sense seems to be on full alert, every sensation. I can feel the cold ice melting against the heat of my neck, see the dark hairs on his arm, smell his body close to me, hear his breath by my ear …

The moment is suddenly broken by the sound of my home phone ringing inside.

‘Do you want to get that?’ asks Oliver, his voice husky.

‘No!’ I cry before I can help myself. ‘It’s, um … probably a wrong number,’ I add, my mind fumbling around for words, when all I can think is, I don’t want this to stop. I don’t ever want this to stop.

The answering machine clicks on. I hear my voice on the outgoing message – ‘Hi, this is Charlotte Merryweather. I’m not here right now, but if you’d like to leave a message …’ followed by a beep.

‘Hi, it’s Beatrice. Sorry to bother you at home, but your mobile or business phone aren’t switched on.’

‘Oh, it’s OK, it’s just my assistant,’ I dismiss. It’s probably about that goddamn press launch again, I curse silently, willing her to hang up. ‘It’s nothing.’

‘Well, if you’re sure,’ he says quietly, running his fingers across my collarbone.

‘I’m sure,’ I reply, feeling a tingle down my spine.

‘I just wanted to call you and say I’m so sorry for getting into such a frightful panic earlier.’

The icy water is dripping down my back. He moves the ice-pack, sending a trickle down my chest and between my breasts.

‘Thank you again for coming to my rescue and sorting everything out with the caterers. You’re a total star! But of course you know that already. Oh, and by the way, Larry Thompson’s people called, to say how delighted they are about the new space …’

I stiffen. Oh, no. Oh, no. I jump up. ‘Sorry, actually, I think I do need to get this.’ I rush through the French doors.

‘… and I have to say, Charlotte, what a brilliant idea of yours! Notting Hill is a perfect place for the first Star Smile. Gosh, you are so clever. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me what you had up your sleeve.’ She tuts loudly.

I race for the phone, but Welly is in the way, and as I lunge for it, I trip over him.

‘Oh, and apparently they’re going to try and get the current chap out a bit earlier, so they can start the renovation as soon as this weekend. Apparently, there’s loads to do. They mentioned it was a junk shop or something and a frightful old mess.’