Page 66

‘Thanks,’ she smiled, as they sat down side by side on the red velvet chairs. ‘Oh, Kit, I’m excited for opening night. I think it’s going to be even better than the first time around!’

‘I agree. There’s such a great energy around this play. It’s so good that everything finally fell into place for a West End run.’

‘You give so much to the play, Kit, you make me want to give it my everything too,’ Tara gushed, twisting round in her seat to face him, tucking her legs coquettishly underneath her. ‘You know, it’s probably a good thing we never got together. Our chemistry is off the chart, just how Pippa wants it.’

Kit laughed. ‘I haven’t really thought about it.’

‘No? I have … I told you, I want to give everything!’ Tara grinned wickedly before reaching across to grab his water bottle. She took a long drink without breaking eye contact.

Kit watched her, knowing exactly what she was doing. It was obvious that she was flirting with him, but he didn’t deflect it. It felt like an age since Fliss had paid attention to him like this. She had been so busy with London Lunch, and now that her father was ill, she was preoccupied with him. Kit felt like a heel for admitting it, but some light-hearted flirting with Tara was exactly what he needed right now. She was undeniably sexy, with that long blonde hair, her hourglass figure, those bright blue eyes dancing mischievously. And she was a real fox in every sense, with an air of unpredictability, of wildness, that was compelling. What harm could a little flirting do?

Almost as though she knew what he was thinking, Tara cocked her head to one side and gazed up at him from beneath her eyelashes. ‘Do you ever think about what you and I would have been like together? I mean, I know you’re with Fliss now and have been forever, but we would have been on fire, don’t you think?’

‘Yeah, I reckon we would. But like you said, I’m with Fliss.’

Tara considered this for a moment. ‘Is she OK? She seemed upset the last time I saw her.’

‘She’s having a hard time at the moment. Her father’s dying.’

‘Oh God, poor Fliss! If you guys need anything, let me know. I’m always here for you both.’

‘Thanks, that’s sweet. I’m not really sure how she’s doing, to be honest. I feel kind of … shut out. And we’re both so busy … She’s dealing with it in her own way, I guess. I want to be let in, but I suppose she has to do what’s right for her.’

‘I wouldn’t shut you out,’ Tara said, her eyes soulful and inviting.

‘Tara …’ Kit tried his best to sound disapproving.

‘What?’ she asked, the picture of innocence.

‘You know what,’ he said sternly.

‘You can’t tell me you aren’t tempted?’

‘Temptation is dangerous.’

‘You have no idea,’ Tara simmered. ‘Look, break time’s nearly over. Let’s run some lines?’

‘Sure. Which scene?’

Tara picked up her script, pretending to glance through it. ‘This one,’ she declared. ‘The argument.’

Kit smiled, knowing exactly why she had chosen that scene and unable to resist the invitation.

They began running through their lines, the dialogue witty and fast-paced, with lots of interruptions. Tom and Emma were having their first argument, passionate and intense, and Kit and Tara moved closer as the scene continued. Seated, their body language mirrored the action they would perform on stage, moving towards one another until their faces were so close that they were almost touching. The script called for a passionate kiss, the culmination of the explosive argument. Though they were only running lines, after the climactic build-up it felt inevitable.

Tara leaned forwards, only a fraction, but that was all it needed for their lips to meet. Kit hesitated, but Tara pushed on and Kit acquiesced. Her lips on his were warm and soft and hungry for more, pushing harder, testing his boundaries. At some point, it tipped from being a natural consequence of the play into a real kiss. Kit knew it, and although his brain was screaming at him to stop, he didn’t have the strength to pull away. Lust overtook him, desire for this woman who had made it clear how badly she wanted him. Tara’s hands cupped his face, pulling him closer as his arms slid round her.

Distantly, he heard a noise like a door banging open, and then a gasp, which pulled him back to reality. He opened his eyes to see Tara looking at him triumphantly, while his brain struggled into gear. A movement at the edge of his vision made him turn around, just in time to see someone leaving at the back of the theatre. Wait, was that …?

‘Damn!’ Kit jumped out of his seat and ran up the aisle. ‘Fliss!’ he yelled, breaking into a sprint and pushing through the door. ‘Fliss!’

Fliss was too shocked to cry. Blindly, she ran out onto St Martin’s Lane and was soon swallowed up by the crowds on the busy street. She didn’t know where she was going, she just knew that she had to keep moving, adrenaline propelling her forwards.

Kit and Tara. Together. That had been no rehearsal. Perhaps it had always been inevitable, Fliss thought numbly. But she had trusted him. Well, more fool her! Just like her mother, Fliss was learning that a man’s words meant nothing.

She could hear Kit behind her, calling her name, but she didn’t slow down until he grabbed her arm, forcing her to stop.

‘Fliss!’