Page 66 of The Sugar and Spice Bookshop Bakery

‘The perfect setting?’

‘Yeah, pucker up, Jack.’ She elbows him playfully.

‘Oi, stop that!’ He pushes her arm away. But then his face changes, his features softening. He leans towards her and whispers, ‘Come here, Luisa.’

She moves her face a little closer to his. Their lips are practically touching, but then Jack puts a finger between them and runs the tip along her bottom lip. She gasps, half wanting him to just get on with it, half wanting him to prolong this delicious agony for as long as possible.

Then his lips are on hers. He kisses her, just for a moment, then pulls away.

‘Ancora?’ he says. ‘Do you want more?’

She nods, and he pulls her in properly, his arms enfolding her, his mouth on hers. She feels his tongue exploring her lips, his fingers nudging up the back of her jumper slightly and finding the bare skin underneath. She gasps again – who knew her lower back was such an erogenous zone? – and knows she is utterly powerless to resist him.

This is way, way better than the romance in novels.

And they’ve only just got started.

‘I’m not a prude,’ he says, pulling away. ‘But this place is made of glass and your mother’s house overlooks this garden.’

She laughs. ‘Yeah, I forgot about that.’

He gestures towards the open doorway at the rain, which is even heavier now. ‘Make a dash for it?’

‘Sure.’

He grabs her hand, and, laughing, they run out of the dome and towards the back door, Louise with one hand on her head in a futile attempt to keep the rain off. The garden is becoming even more of a mud bath, and they kick off their shoes inside.

‘I’m soaking,’ Jack says, looking down at a puddle that’s rapidly forming at his feet.

‘I’m freezing,’ Louise says. ‘Shall we…? We could… I could make some coffee to warm us up, and we could go upstairs to the flat.’

He pauses for a second.

‘I left the heating on,’ she adds.

‘Now you’re talking,’ he says. ‘But won’t Maddie be…?’

‘She’s gone shopping. She was very mysterious. Not sure what she’s after.’

Louise makes two mugs of coffee using the machine in the bakery, then they sneak from there to the door of the flat, with Louise hoping no one will see them. Not that it’s anyone’s business – they are both single, both consenting adults – but she does hate the way gossip spreads around here.

She walks up the stairs carrying the coffee, Jack following behind. Once inside the flat, he takes the mugs from her, and places them on the table. ‘Now where were we?’

‘I think we were about here,’ she says, pressing her lips up against his, surprised at how bold she’s suddenly feeling. ‘And your fingers were…’ she takes his hand and places it firmly on her lower back, ‘about there. That’s it.’

He strokes her gently. She can’t remember when she last felt so turned on – she’d assumed she’d left those days behind in her twenties and thirties. Actually, she can’t remember feeling like this in her twenties and thirties.

‘You’re dripping wet,’ he says.

‘“Let me help you out of those wet clothes,”’ she says in a poor imitation of a male voice. ‘Classic.’

He laughs. ‘Sorry. Am I being a bit of a cliché again?’

‘No, not at all. I’m quite happy to…’ She pulls her jumper off and stands in front of him, in her bra, then immediately feels self-conscious. ‘Your turn.’

He grins at her, then pulls off his wet t-shirt. He’s muscly, as she expected, with a smattering of dark chest hair and olive skin, shiny with rain.

She takes a step towards him and tugs at the waistband of his jeans, wanting to see more.