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She ran her index finger down his face, gliding gently over his nose to his mouth, before deftly plucking the joint from his lips. Startled, Helen’s companion looked up at her, an expression of amused outrage on his handsome face.

‘I was enjoying that …’ Christopher protested, reaching out a strong arm to try and reclaim his prize, even as Helen leaned back, keeping it out of reach.

‘You know the rules, you can’t smoke in here,’ she teased, nodding towards the opulent interior of the penthouse hotel room.

‘Don’t be such a killjoy. The smoke detectors never work in these places.’

‘And besides,’ Helen added, continuing to evade his playful lunges, ‘smoking marijuana is illegal. Didn’t they teach you that at the National Crime Agency?’

This provoked a laugh from her date, who leaned back into the plump pillows, clasping his hands behind his head to reveal his broad chest.

‘So, what are you going to do, Helen? Arrest me?’

His eyes sparkled mischievously for a moment, before he added:

‘Oh no, wait, you can’t, can you …?’

Helen’s expression narrowed. She’d only been seeing Christopher for a couple of months, but during that time he’d taken great delight in teasing her about her self-imposed exile from the world of law enforcement.

He was an experienced forensic accountant, shedding light on the financial misdeeds of gangsters and fraudsters, whilst she had walked away from a highly decorated career as the head of the Major Incident Team at Southampton Central.

She’d quit on a point of a principle, and didn’t regret her decision for a minute, but his good-humoured barbs still landed, tapping into an uncertainty about her identity, her role in life.

She was no longer Detective Inspector Helen Grace. She was just … Helen.

As if reading her mind, her bedfellow continued:

‘Tell you what. Instead of hectoring me like an angry school ma’am …’

Helen frowned, but Christopher persisted, unabashed:

‘… why don’t you take a puff yourself? It won’t kill you. It might even do you some good. You’ve been very tense of late.’

He reacted too slowly, Helen snatching up a pillow with her free hand and slamming it into his cheek. Laughing, he fended off her attack, continuing his provocation.

‘Go on, I dare you. Just one tiny little puff …’

Helen glared at him, the smoldering cigarette still clutched in her fingers. She had always been a smoker, so it wasn’t a great leap, but she’d never been a fan of drugs. Still, a challenge was a challenge.

‘Have it your way …’

Placing the joint to her lips, she inhaled deeply, rolling the smoke around her mouth, before letting it slide from her nostrils, gentle plumes drifting up into the air.

‘Happy now?’ she enquired, handing the cigarette back to her date.

‘Delirious,’ he replied, gazing affectionately at her, as his hand came to rest on her hip, his thumb running gently over the silky sheen of her nightshirt. ‘You?’

Surprised by the question, Helen hesitated before answering.

It was not something she had ever had time to ponder before, her hectic work-life affording her no time for introspection.

But now, freed from her obligations, the possibilities seemed boundless.

She could smoke drugs, she could spend long evenings making love in expensive hotel rooms, she could be happy.

She could even fall for someone, a luxury she’d never afforded herself.

‘I’m doing pretty good,’ Helen responded, shrugging casually. ‘Nothing special, but good enough …’

It was a blatant tease and Christopher responded immediately, a frown creasing his features, as he stubbed the joint out into an empty glass.

‘And what would it take to make you truly happy, Helen Grace?’ he asked, as his hand slid up her side, brushing against her breast.

Helen said nothing, as his thumb strayed to her nipple.

A shiver of pleasure rippled through her and she leaned into him, her lips seeking out his, enjoying his hot, smoky breath.

She could sense his desire, his lust enveloping them both and, without warning, he reared up, flipping Helen onto her back.

Now it was his turn to bear down on her, kissing her fiercely, but Helen had been expecting this move and used his downward momentum to her advantage, rolling hard to the left to divert him onto his back.

Surprised, Christopher tried to protest, but he knew it was hopeless, that he was beaten.

Helen wanted him, another wave of pleasure pulsing through her as she descended upon her lover, but it had to be on her terms. Her world was changing, her life in flux, but she still liked to be in control.

Some habits die hard.