To Have and to Hold by Jane Green Page A

it would be so easy for her to go to bed with him tonight, but it would be a mistake.
    She knows absolutely it would be a mistake.
    “Don’t get up,” she says brusquely. “I’ll be fine.”
    “Ah. That means I’m not getting invited in for coffee, doesn’t it?” Joe sits back, disappointed but not deterred. If not tonight, another night. He knows he’ll get there in the end.
    “You’re not getting invited in for coffee,” Josie smiles, and Joe leans forward just at that moment, and in the darkness of the cab he kisses her. Once, twice. Three soft kisses on her lips. No tongues, nothing overtly sexual, but a guarantee that he will not settle for friendship, that it may not happen tonight, but it
will
happen. Of that he is absolutely sure.

8
             A lice yawns as she tiptoes down the stairs trying not to wake anyone, rubbing her neck and shoulder as she groans.
    The bed was not as bad as she remembered, it was worse. She had slept fantastically for three hours, then spent the rest of the night tossing and turning, eventually waking with a stiff neck at six o’clock.
    She has lain in bed reading for an hour, then come downstairs to be met by an excited Humphrey and Dharma, who jump all over her then run to the front door whining, their tails wagging furiously.
    Pulling her coat over her pajamas, she looks for her boots by the front door, realizing she has left them upstairs. She can’t be bothered to run back up, so she slips her feet into Harry’s huge Timberlands, grabs one of Emily’s hats, pulls it down firmly over her ears, and clips the leashes on the dogs as she tries to shush them before quietly going outside.
    It’s a beautiful morning. The air is cold and crisp, the frost glitters on the grass, and the sky is a bright clear blue. Crunching over the lawn, Alice pushes open the gate and leads the dogs into the field. She bends down and unclips their leashes, smiling as the pair of them eagerly take off, racing round in circles, tongues hanging out of their mouths with joy.
    She had forgotten just how wonderful the view is, how much she loves being in open spaces, breathing fresh air. She crosses her arms to keep out the cold, and follows the dogs, sliding her feet across the lawn to stop the huge boots falling off.
    Twenty minutes later she’s about to die of cold. Calling the dogs as quietly as she can, she clips the leashes back on and leads them across the country lane back into the house to make some coffee and warm up.
    “Morning!” Harry’s sitting at the kitchen table with a mug of steaming coffee. He’s wearing jeans and a large sweatshirt, and Alice is relieved to see that his bare feet seem to be completely normal.
    “You look disgustingly happy for first thing in the morning,” Alice laughs, knowing that a night of sex will do that for you. As it happens, Alice is a morning person herself, has always had the ability to bound out of bed wide awake, without the need for caffeine to give her that first boost of the day.
    “I’m always good first thing,” Harry smiles. “I saw you outside walking the dogs. I hate to be the one to tell you this, but I think your boots are a little too big for you.”
    “Ah, yes. They’re yours, actually. I couldn’t find mine so I borrowed them. Do you mind?”
    “Not at all. Glad to have been of service. And the hat suits you too. Can I get you some coffee?”
    “Mmm, that sounds lovely.”
             
    “
S o how did you become a dog trainer?” Alice is clearing up the cereal bowls while Harry stands by the stove cracking eggs into a frying pan.
    “I was supposed to be a vet”—Harry laughs—“but I didn’t have the discipline.”
    “You mean you went to veterinary college?”
    “Yup. I dropped out halfway through my second year.”
    “But that’s terrible.”
    “Is it? Why?”
    “You were so close. Don’t you have any regrets?”
    Harry hands Alice the package of bacon to open, then slaps six rashers into the