Page 39 of The Last Kiss Goodbye

‘So which one is the famous DAG office?’

‘The penthouse,’ she grinned.

He touched her on the sleeve before she got out of the car.

‘Do you want to go to Ronnie Scott’s next week?’

‘Only if it’s me and you, Professor Higgins,’ she said rather daringly.

‘I think that can be arranged.’

She hated leaving him like this, wished the evening had gone better.

‘Friends again?’ she said, extending her hand.

‘Friends,’ he smiled, and she stepped out on to the pavement.

Chapter Eleven

The stairs of the rickety old building creaked as she went up them. Remembering her outburst at the dinner party, she felt like the mad woman returning to her attic.

Why was she here? she asked herself, reliving Jonathon’s soirée with each slow and steady step. Why hadn’t she just grabbed Dominic by the collar and kissed him on the lips, which was precisely what she had wanted to do ever since that night in Primrose Hill when he had turned around and smiled at her.

It was at that moment that she realised the full force of her feelings for Dominic Blake. It wasn’t that he was good-looking, or charming, or even her editor at an important and talked-about magazine; she did not want to admit to herself that she was so predictable. But here was someone who had bothered to look past her temper and her opinions and seen something to like. And she liked him. She liked him so much, she sometimes couldn’t sleep at night for thinking about him. She imagined what it would be like to kiss him, to wake up next to him in his bed, to hear him say, I love you, Rosamund Bailey.

But that was the stuff of dreams, of fantasy. She hadn’t kissed him, she never would. And the way she was sometimes so rude to him, so deliberately difficult, it was little short of miraculous that he hadn’

t stopped returning her calls.

Her steps slowed to a stop when she reached the door of the DAG office on the top floor, and she sighed as she fumbled around for her key.

She had hoped, secretly hoped, that the night might have ended somewhere more romantic. On Albert Bridge, holding hands at midnight, perhaps. But no. It was ten o’clock and here she was back at work, preparing for a protest march for an issue she cared very little about. Nor was she sure that the small rally outside the proposed site of a tote shop on Bethnal Green Road would make any difference to the gambling habits of the nation anyway.

She slotted the key into the lock but the door was already open.

Ros frowned. Ever since Sam’s revelation about her relationship with Brian, she had been nervous about finding the two of them in a compromising situation in the office, and someone was certainly in there now. She crept inside and peered around.

The light was so low that she had to squint, and besides, the room was so full of files and boxes, it was difficult to make out exactly who or what was in here.

After a moment, she heard the flush of the loo at the back of the office and Brian came out of the cubicle zipping up his flies.

‘Brian, you scared the living daylights out of me,’ she laughed, holding her hand to her chest.

‘It’s only me,’ he said, coming quickly back to his desk at the far side of the office. Two filing cabinets and a stack of books and boxes acted as a natural barrier between him and Ros.

‘What are you doing here at this time?’ she asked, moving towards him.

‘I could wonder the same about you,’ he replied, his words prickly and defensive.

She was immediately on edge. Brian had walked past his desk and was in her personal space.

‘Where’s Sam tonight?’

‘Visiting her parents in Hampshire. She’ll be back in time for the demo tomorrow.’

Ros already knew this but she’d wanted to test him.

‘What are you doing?’ she asked, craning her neck so she could see his desk.