Page 12 of Wife After Wife

“So whatisyour cup of Earl Grey, Harry? No... let me guess. James Bond? Indiana Jones? Whatdotoffs watch?”

“Beware of pigeonholing. One is not a toff. I enjoyedOut of Africa. Have you seen that?”

“Bloodylovedit! So romantic. I would have run off with Robert Redford like a shot. And that washing-the-hair scene was thebiggestturn-on. Oh god, I want someone golden-haired and handsome to wash my hair like that.” She blinked her long eyelashes.

“Your hair looks perfectly clean to me.”

“It could be cleaner.”

Harry couldn’t tear his gaze from her intense blue eyes.Look away!screamed his conscience.

“Bennie,” said a guy behind her. “Dave’s here. You can go now.”

“Cheers, Luke. Just as well, I’m buggered.” She hopped off the stool and looked at Harry again. “Only one more shift before Christmas, thank god. Want to walk with me to the bus stop?”

He shouldn’t. He was still safe while she was on that side of the bar.

“Come on, Harry. Look at everyone having a good time, and here’s me on my lonesome.”

“Are you going home for Christmas?”

“Course! But not until tomorrow.”

She disappeared into a room behind the bar, and Harry slowly folded his newspaper and downed the rest of his pint.

He could leave now and never come back.

He folded his paper again, and then again, forming it into a manageable, neat shape he could slip under his arm, smoothing it out between each fold.

He lifted his pint, in case there was a last sip not to be wasted.

“This way, it’s quicker,” came Bennie’s voice next to him.

She led the way out of a back door that opened into a pedestrian alleyway. Suddenly they were out of the noise and smoke and into the quiet crispness of a bright winter’s afternoon.

Bennie stopped to put on her denim jacket, flicking the collar up, and took a pair of black silky gloves out of the pockets. She slipped them on, smoothing them over her hands.

She took some deep breaths. “Ah, fresh air. Jeez, it’s so smoky in there. Maybe one day they’ll ban smoking in pubs.” She grabbed a handful of her hair and sniffed it. “Disgusting. Gonna have to wash it. Maybe you should come and do that for me, Harry? With a bowl of water and a jug, like Robert did for Meryl. Actually, you look a bit like RobertRedford. Except you’re better looking.” She grinned. That direct gaze again. And now that she was out from behind the bar, he was able to fully appreciate the figure-hugging jeans tucked into boots with killer heels.

“I have to go, Bennie. We’re driving to Gloucestershire this afternoon. But it was fun. Maybe I’ll pop in again. I work on the South Bank, but my wife’s probably going to be working in Wardour Street.”

There, he’d said it.Wife. He’d drawn the line.

“Glor-ster-shaar. Should’ve guessed. Is that wheremater and paterlive?”

He chuckled. It wasn’t a bad Harry impression. Was she choosing to ignore the part about his wife?

“My parents died, I’m afraid. It’s where Katie’s parents live.”

“Oh my god. Your parents died? Harry, you poor bloke.” She reached out and touched his arm, came closer.

It was the sympathy in her eyes that demolished his resolve. As her hand slid from his arm to his waist, he pulled her toward him, and then he was kissing her, and it was heaven. At first tentative and sweet, exploring her soft lips, then she was on her toes and pulling his head down as the kiss became urgent, hungry.

Finally they pulled apart, breathless, and Harry gently took her chin in his hand. “Happy Christmas, Bennie. And now I really have to go.”

“Yes, I suppose you do, Harry. But you really have to come back.”

And he did. Again and again.