The Sweet Caress by Roberta Latow Page A

the sitting room. Jessica, still in her fur coat, sat on the settee opposite the fireplace. Luke warmed himself by the fire for several minutes. The only sound in the room was the crackling logs, the only light the dancing flames leaping up the chimney. Finally he went to sit next to Jessica. She took his hand in hers and raised it to her mouth. She kissed his fingers and licked the soft crease of flesh between his thumb and index finger. Then, turning on the settee so she faced him squarely, tears brimming in her eyes, she said hoarsely, ‘Luke.’
    ‘What’s wrong, Jessica?’ he asked.
    She took a deep breath. ‘Nothing’s wrong. On the contrary, it’s all so right that feeling has overwhelmed me. I’m trying to find the words to tell you I love you, deeply, truly. Luke, I don’t want to spend any more of my life alone or adrift. I want to be with you. Loving you has ruined me for any other man. It came to me as I was sitting by the firein the peace and quiet of this room. I want to shout it from the rooftops. If it were possible I would like the whole world to know how much I love you. But mostly you. That’s why I burst in on you over at the lab, to tell you.’
    ‘Oh, my dear Jessica,’ Luke said, a catch in his throat.
    ‘I do so hope you would still like to marry me.’
    ‘Every time I see you I want to marry you,’ he told her and together they rose from the settee and hugged each other. He took her by the hand. There was a new kind of joy in their laughter as they ran through the rooms to the kitchen.
    ‘Mrs Timms, you are the first to know. Miss Johnson will not be Miss Johnson for long. This is an occasion, it calls for champagne so we can toast the future Mrs Greenfield.’
    Mrs Timms, prim, good old New England stock, put her wooden spoon down, removed her apron, fussed with the bun of hair at the nape of her neck and said, ‘Lordy me, there’ll be dancing in the town tonight,’ and a smile cracked her face and her eyes shone with approval.
    ‘Surprised, Mrs Timms?’ asked Jessica.
    ‘Only that it took you so long to say yes, miss. Best you ring through to the laboratory for Anabella. I dare say she’ll need a glass of this here fizz.’
    Luke and Jessica did not dine at home that night. Instead they went first to Rose Cottage so Jessica could change into something appropriate for the occasion and then they went on to Wiggin’s Tavern. They glowed with happiness. No one had ever seen either of them so demonstrative in their love for each other. As they made their way to the smallest of the dining rooms, they saw Bridget Copley eating alone. Luke asked Jessica, ‘Shall we invite her to join us?’
    ‘Yes, why not? We can afford to be generous with so much happiness going for us.’
    They did ask her and before she could make more than one excuse, Luke had signalled for the maître d’ to transfer her meal to their table.
    The sheriff had had a hard day filled with bad news for several local people, but Luke and Jessica’s joy was infectious. Bridget caught it and immediately left her work problems behind. They were a couple whom it was always a joy to be around – sparkling intelligence, Jessica always intriguing, Luke masculinity at its best, beautiful people from their souls outward. Bridget had known they were having quite a serious sexual affair but tonight was different; it was as if they were airborne on love.
    They had a marvellous evening, filled with laughter. Jessica reminisced about her first year in Newbampton and her many and varied odd jobs, and was more open and amusing than Bridget had ever credited she could be. And Luke and Jessica were in turn amused by stories from Bridget about her climb up the policeman’s ladder. Cissie passed by their table with the amorous Harold who Jessica had learned from Cissie was a tiger in bed and a pussycat out of it. He was clearly besotted by Cissie who kept him on a short lead and pretended she didn’t mind that he had declared he