Page 33 of A Clean Sweep

T om was sitting in a darkened corner of Bar Belle, partly obscured by a large pillar. He alternated between taking nervous swigs of his pint and peering around the corner to check if Kate had arrived. He'd got there a little early, a few brochures and some print outs waiting in his briefcase.

Tabitha was having an at-home evening, which usually involved a hideous-looking face pack, her head shrouded in a comical zebra-print bath cap to maximise the effect of a hair mask.

When he said he was going for a drink with the lads she was engrossed in flicking through Netflix in search of some trashy chick film to watch.

'Have fun', she replied, waggling her fingers in farewell.

Except it came out more like 'aargh un' as said face pack was already setting like concrete.

Tom had felt horribly guilty – as well he should – but had tried to appease his conscience by telling himself that he was simply meeting a client.

Admittedly a drop-dead gorgeous one who he could easily have dealt with at the office.

Plus, his niggling fear that all was not rosy between him and Tabitha grew a little stronger every day.

Much as he'd been attracted to her when they first met, he hadn't felt anything like the zing when he first saw Kate.

Suddenly, there she was, her gaze searching the room until alighting on Tom.

That dazzling smile again that made his insides go into meltdown.

She was wearing the same red coat, open this time to reveal a short black dress.

As she headed towards him several other men openly ogled her.

Not surprising, she was a head-turning kind of girl.

'Hi Tom! This is so kind of you, giving up your free time to help me. Can I get you another drink?' She gestured to his almost empty glass, at the same time dropping her coat on a chair and fishing her purse out of her bag.

'Don't be silly, I'll go get them. Please, sit down.

What's your tipple? OK, one glass of Pinot Grigio coming up.

' He hastened to the bar which was mercifully quiet and was back at the table in under a minute.

He handed her her wine and they toasted each other before settling back in their chairs.

Tom put down his glass and picked up his briefcase, pulling out the relevant items. He spread them out before them, Kate leaning forward to take a look.

‘Right, so based on what you said yesterday, I think Hong Kong could be a good option.

It's considered very safe, even for solo female travellers.

It's jam-packed with cultural things to do and see and the food is amazing. There are plenty of great hotel deals to be had at the moment as well as decent-priced flights. And if you like shopping’ – Tom grinned in what he hoped was an engaging fashion – ‘you're truly spoiled for choice with malls and street markets galore.

' He felt a little thrill of excitement as he realised Kate was now staring at him rather than at the glossy brochures.

Was there just a hint of personal interest in those mesmerising eyes, or was she simply daydreaming about steaming bowls of noodles and slinky cheongsams?

God, she'd look sensational in one of those.

'It sounds amazing, Tom, and I can see you've come up with some other places too.

' She gestured at a stunning collage of pictures of Costa Rica; a misty rain forest shot, a spectacular sunset and golden beaches lined by majestic palm trees.

'The thing is, would you mind if we chatted a little first, got to know each other a bit?

Maybe if you know more about me it'll help to make the right choice. '

Privately Tom couldn't be more delighted at Kate's suggestion.

Unless she'd suggested zipping back to her place so he could get to know her in a much more intimate way.

Which wasn't likely – was it? Although she had wriggled her chair closer to his and he got another whiff of the same musky scent that had got him going last time.

Almost an hour later and Tom was pretty familiar with Kate's life story, and vice versa.

Except he had omitted the minor detail of him living with someone.

Which wasn't, of course, a minor detail, more like a gigantic African elephant with enormous flapping ears parading its way round the room.

Luckily, Kate couldn't actually see this behemoth, nor had his nose grown Pinocchio-style.

She hadn't asked if he was with someone, so he simply hadn't volunteered the information.

What he'd learned about her was: she was twenty-eight; lived alone in a two-bedroom flat just outside of town; was the youngest of three, her older brother and sister in London and Leeds respectively, both parents still going strong and endlessly supportive, particularly when aforementioned bastard fiancé ditched her.

His name was Arthur and she strongly suspected his protestations that there was no-one else were a pile of crap.

She worked at a beauty boutique called De Luxe and enjoyed her job, but hated her boss, Caitlin, the one who'd refused to let her change her holiday leave .

'To be honest, I wouldn't be surprised if she was the one he was shagging on the side.

She was always fluttering her stupid false eyelashes at him when he came in to pick up his products.

That's how I met him. At first I thought it was quite nice that a man should take his skincare and hygiene routines so seriously.

Now I just think he's an over-preening prat. '

Tom's version of life events to date was concise, if not entirely comprehensive.

He'd talked about his own parents – they lived in the south of France and enjoyed a lively ex-pat way of life, renting out a g?te to supplement their pensions – and his siblings Jake and Rose.

He'd never planned on being a travel agent – or exotic destination specialist, as Jonathan preferred to call them – but his history degree hadn't lent itself to many career options.

Unless he became a history teacher. The thought of trying to teach the subject to classrooms of spotty teenagers who couldn't give a toss about Tudor times, only what time the pub opened and if their fake IDs would pass muster, filled him with horror.

So, he'd stumbled into his current career, his knowledge of Incas, Etruscans and other ancient civilisations coming in handy when trying to map out itineraries for people keen on holidays with a difference.

'Not much else to add, really. It's not my dream job but it pays the bills and – as long as Jaws doesn't go in for the kill – I'll be fine there for a while.'

Kate snorted – ever so elegantly – at the mention of his boss's nickname.

'Is that what you call him? That's hilarious.

I called in once before – you weren't there – and he did remind me of some deadly predator.

All teeth and totally self-absorbed. He was actually flossing while he spoke to me.

Eurgh! I'm so glad I came back and met you instead. '

Right. Tom knew his radar wasn't one hundred percent reliable but he was picking up major bleeps on the I'm interested in you wavelength.

Kate was now twirling a lock of hair around her finger, one knee coming into close contact with his.

He felt the heat, as powerful as the Kalahari Desert, just with no sand but scorching nevertheless.

'Another drink? Coming right up.' Leaving Kate flicking through some travel info he'd downloaded on Hong Kong he headed back to the bar, ordering their drinks as well as a couple of bags of posh crisps.

Sun-dried tomato and Dijon mustard flavours.

Clasping them between his teeth he hurried back to Kate.

She thanked him, her fingers accidentally brushing his as she took the proffered wine glass.

Or was it no accident? She was still seated very close to him, her body angled towards him and revealing a touch more cleavage than the average hot-bloodied male could handle.

Luckily Tom had discarded his tie and loosened his top button before arriving at the bar, otherwise he felt sure steam would now be emanating from his entire body.

'I'm really tempted by the thought of Hong Kong, Tom,' said Kate. 'Have you ever been yourself?'

'Sadly, no,' replied Tom. 'I did visit Singapore once a few years back en route to Australia but it was only for a couple of days.

Which, to be honest, was enough for me. It's pretty small and a bit too regimented for my liking.

I think Hong Kong has a lot more to offer, especially if you've got a couple of weeks.

Plenty of good day trips, that kind of thing.

' Images of himself and Kate sipping ice-cold glasses of rosé as they cruised on a junk filled his head.

Closely followed by a distinctly steamier one of them writhing on a petal-strewn four-poster bed.

Strewth, he really was in dangerous territory now.

And had also turned into an Aussie judging by his uncharacteristicturn of phrase.

Focus Tom, he told himself. Whatever happened – and that might be nothing apart from bagging a new client – he needed to keep a cool head and a clean mind .

As Tom's thoughts wandered off to exotic and erotic places, Kate had scoffed all the Dijon crisps and was now licking crumbs from her fingers. Oh, God, she even made crisp-eating seem sexy as hell. She neatly folded up the empty packet and surveyed him thoughtfully.

'Listen, I hope this isn't out of order but it's after eight now and I'm starving! I make a mean spaghetti carbonara and it'd be lovely to cook for you. As a thank-you for going out your way to help me. Then we can finalise my plans. What do you think?'