High Tide by Veronica Henry Page A

and anyway, I don’t want them crawling all over my house, poking about. Which they will do.’ She sighed. ‘I need to sober up. I can’t go back there half-cut. They’ll have me for breakfast.’
    ‘Who is “they”?’
    ‘Oh. Spencer’s entourage. Not that it really matters. But it does, in a way. I don’t want to upset anyone.’ She put down her empty glass. She’d drunk it far too quickly. ‘I some need fresh air to clear my head. Let’s go into the garden.’
    Nathan could feel the barman staring as he led her out of the French doors onto the terrace. Outside, they looked up at the moon, bursting with self-importance, like a big fat pearl on a bed of black velvet. Vanessa shivered, and Nathan put his arm around her, more to keep her warm than anything. She snuggled into him. He put his other arm round her, to pull her in tighter. She let out a little sigh and rested her head on his shoulder.
    ‘That feels so nice,’ she whispered.
    ‘I know,’ he replied.
    ‘You’re really sweet,’ she said. ‘You’ve been so kind.’
    She looked up at him.
    He wondered, for a moment, if this was some sort of trap. If she was playing a game with him. If she wasn’t the innocent she looked, but was daring him to overstep the mark. He lifted a hand to stroke her white-blonde hair out of her eyes, sweeping it back and then cradling the back of her head. She bit her lip, her eyes wide, startled by the gesture. Yet she wasn’t objecting.
    And then she smiled, a slow, devilishly angelic smile.
    ‘Kiss me,’ she whispered.
    He would have to be inhuman to resist.
    He kissed away the last of her pale-pink lip-gloss. He put his other hand to the back of her head, running his fingers through her hair, caressing her neck. Her eyes were shut now, and he moved his lips up to kiss each of her eyelids, then over her cheeks, down to her jaw-line, then her collarbone. He moved his hands down to hold her rib-cage, his thumbs very tentatively stroking her breasts. She gave a tiny moan and pushed herself towards him, eager for his touch.
    Her hands were inside his jacket, pulling his shirt up, sliding them underneath to touch his warm skin. They kissed again, and this time it was more frenzied. He felt her bite his lip, her breath getting more rapid. Every primal urge in him kicked in. He should stop, before it got out of hand, before he lost control. She’d just buried her husband, he reminded himself. And she’d had several glasses of wine.
    He drew his mouth away from hers, reluctant. They stood, foreheads touching, steadying their breathing.
    She eased herself away from him. She looked a bit shocked.
    ‘I’m so sorry,’ she said. ‘I don’t know what came over me.’
    ‘Oh my God,’ he said. ‘Don’t apologise.’
    She gave a shaky laugh. ‘I shouldn’t be allowed out.’
    She smoothed her hair, put her hands up to her face, looking up at the sky.
    ‘I think I need another drink,’ she said.
    He stroked her arm. It was gentle. Reassuring. ‘What would you like?’
    ‘Cointreau. Cointreau on ice. I’ve got some money—’
    She grabbed for her bag, but he waved it away.
    ‘You’re all right. I’ll get it. I’ll be back in a minute.’
    Vanessa watched after him. Watched him with his broad shoulders, striding back into the pub, and wondered what on earth he was thinking. He was how old? Twenty-three or four, max? She began to laugh, horrified and thrilled at the same time. Her legs felt weak and she sat down on a bench. She looked down at the cigarette butts, trying to make sense of what she had done.
    She couldn’t remember the last time she had kissed someone. And she was shocked by the impact it had on her. Not just physically, but emotionally and spiritually. It had taken her to another place. As if after years of dry bread she had been fed a plateful of the sweetest macarons, or fallen into a feather bed after a lifetime on a hard mattress.
    She supposed it wasn’t surprising. She had lived in an