Page 45 of Second Chances at the Board Game Café

Besides, if truth be told, Taylor didn’t really understand the appeal of that frenzied, frantic sex that you saw all too often on the cinema screen. If Harry was going to make love to her, she’d like a comfy bed, with soft sheets. Preferably clean. She’d like him to take his time, to tease her lips with his, undo her buttons one by one. All that ripping off of clothes; well, the characters in films clearly didn’t cherish their clothes the way Taylor cherished hers.

She wondered what was going through Harry’s mind as he stood there beside her, and then, on impulse, she stretched up on her tiptoes and brushed her lips gently against his. Her hands found his and their fingers were suddenly entwined. And then they locked eyes.

Time seemed to freeze. In that moment, Taylor realised this was more than sexual attraction. There was a deeper connection already beginning to form. Her heart surged for a second, and then she remembered. She was an ordinary single mum in a small town in West Yorkshire, not some heroine in a romance novel who was about to have her own happy-ever-after ending. And this lovely man had no idea she even had a child and would probably leg it as soon as he did. And besides, having a relationship with anyone whilst Max was still young was out of the question.

23

He should have asked her for some sugar in this mug of tea. That was what they recommended for shock, wasn’t it? And Harry was in a state of shock. He didn’t feel like himself at all. He felt like he was having one of those out-of-body experiences.

She had got on her knees in front of him in the kitchen. Reading body language wasn’t his forte, but surely if a woman did that…? They were sitting on the sofa again, neither of them speaking. He didn’t know what Taylor was thinking, but Harry was mulling over the events of the last half hour.

It had been very arousing and he’d been concerned that he’d embarrass himself if he wasn’t careful, so he’d stared out of the kitchen window.

19. 38. 57. 76…

There’d been her tone of voice too. She’d said things like, ‘Trust me, I’m a dressmaker,’ and that cutting him out of the tight jeans would be dangerous because she was ‘prone to getting a bit overenthusiastic with the scissors’ and she’d sounded decidedly flirtatious.

Then she had told him in rather a bossy voice to lie on the floor and that had almost tipped him over the edge. He’d continued with the nineteen times table, reaching seven hundred and three, which was nineteen times thirty-seven, when she’d managed to edge the jeans down a little. It was then that he’d remembered his boxer shorts. He was wearing the little train ones. Could this get any worse? They were going straight in the bin when he got home.

Then it had in fact got worse, because Mr B had walked in at the most inopportune moment, just as the jeans were coming off. Seriously, didn’t people knock these days? The chap had obviously got the wrong end of the stick, as he’d promptly disappeared again.

Even in his embarrassment, Harry could see the funny side. Taylor had laughed so much she was crying, and then she had leaned towards him and kissed him. Or had he leaned towards her and kissed her? He wasn’t quite sure.

They had kissed. He couldn’t quite believe it. He and Taylor had shared a kiss. He’d even brushed a hair from her face. It had been a tender, precious moment, spoilt only by the fact that his jeans were now somewhere round his knees, which wasn’t exactly a good look. He’d felt awkward and embarrassed again then, and she’d seemed to sense that and had gone to make yet another cup of tea.

He’d tugged the jeans off and dashed upstairs to put his trousers back on. Once he was back downstairs, he’d pretended to examine the broken zip, whilst trying to pluck up courage to go into the kitchen, and kiss her up against the kitchen worktop. Woman liked things like that, didn’t they? He had seen it in films.

But the truth was, he didn’t quite have the nerve to go through with it. It wasn’t really his modus operandi and besides, he didn’t know if it was what Taylor would want.

He drained his mug now, and stretched forwards to place it on the coffee table. He’d barely put it down when she leaned into him, nestling her face into his body. He felt himself stiffen. He wasn’t used to affection like this. What was he supposed to do? Hesitantly he returned her embrace.

It felt so good. He had forgotten what it felt like to hold someone. How long had it been? Three years maybe? Or longer?

He waited a moment before planting a kiss on the top of Taylor’s scalp. Her hair smelt fresh and fruity. She must use lime shampoo.

Emboldened, he rested his head lightly on the top of hers and inhaled again. After a few moments, she lifted her face, looking up at him with those beautiful green eyes of hers and he kissed her. A peck at first and then a slightly longer kiss. He wasn’t sure if that was the kind of kissing women liked; he thought again about the love scenes he’d seen in films. If they were anything to go by, he should thrust his tongue urgently into Taylor’s mouth and rip her clothes, but that wasn’t what he felt he wanted to do. He felt so tender towards her, and in any case, her clothes were far too beautiful to tear. He kissed her again, relishing how soft her lips felt.

Taylor’s mouth opened to his and he ran the tip of his tongue along the inside of her lips. He felt her shiver. His fingers were resting above her hips, and, without thinking he slipped them under her top and began to caress her bare skin.

She gasped.

Harry removed his hand and pulled away. ‘I’m sorry. I um…’ He glanced towards the huge window at the front of her lounge. ‘We probably shouldn’t. The whole of Hebbleswick can see.’

‘A cuddle is okay,’ said Taylor, and she nestled into him. He stroked her hair. The sexual tension of a few minutes ago seemed to have evaporated now, and he could feel her body relaxing against his.

He wasn’t quite sure when she drifted off. Her breathing had slowed. He couldn’t see her eyes, but guessed they must be shut. Every now and again, she gave a little twitch or a little sigh. A little part of him was disappointed, thinking that if a woman was really interested in him, she wouldn’t fall asleep on him. Fay had often said he was boring, and he could hear her voice in his head saying, ‘See! Taylor thinks so too.’

But he silenced that voice, because another part of him loved the intimacy of having another human being – a very beautiful human being – sleeping with her body tucked up against his. She trusted him, he realised, and the thought filled him with a warm glow.

He didn’t dare move a muscle for fear of waking her. It must be exhausting, he thought. Running a business, bringing up a child single-handedly, the school run every day. He thought of her standing on the station platform each morning and wondered why she didn’t send the boy to Hebbleswick Primary. From what he’d heard, it was a rather special place.

Taylor sat up, rubbing her eyes. ‘Harry, I’m soooo sorry.’

‘Don’t be. It’s fine.’

‘I’m shattered. I’m on the go from the moment I get up till the moment I go to bed. And I usually work late. There’s so much to do, more now with the show coming up. And all the day-to-day stuff. Keeping on top of the housework. Grocery shopping.’

‘Can I help with anything?’