'A lot of research, but very little else. I know what I'm going to put in it, and what main line the story will take, but I'm still mulling over the peripheral stuff-how much or how little I expand on the more remote family connections.'
Beverley listened closely whilst Lucy outlined her ideas for her second novel, interrupting occasionally to make a suggestion and to skilfully lead Lucy down by-lanes that hadn't previously occurred to her.
By the time they had finished their lunch, Lucy felt fired with a new enthusiasm to get back to her work. It had suffered during her father's illness and since then she had been too caught up with family affairs to give it the concentration it required-she had even begun to feel reluctant to go on at all. But now all that was banished and she was full of eagerness to get back to work. When she said as much to Beverley, the latter laughed.
'That's what good editors are for-to inspire their writers, not depress them.'
They had talked over the minor points Beverley wanted to raise on her existing manuscript and when she eventually left the office midway through the afternoon, Lucy felt buoyed up and exultant. The re-writing work required was minimal-a smoothing off process rather than anything else, as Beverley had intimated, which she was confident she could have done within the time limit Beverley had set.
It was late afternoon before she got to the station, but luckily she didn't have long to wait for a train. As she got on to it she glanced rather guiltily at the glossy carrier over her arm. The silk suit she had seen in a Bond Street window had proved too much temptation to resist, the way the fabric clung to her body bringing vividly to mind her erotic imaginings of the night before. She would wear it tonight-for Saul.
The adrenalin which had pumped through her veins all afternoon increased its speed as the train slowed down for her station. She got out, her heart thudding furiously as she headed for her car.
'Lucy!'
Delight shocked through her as she recognised Saul's voice. He was striding towards her, almost grinning at her, his smile so wide while she stood like someone transfixed and waiting for him to reach her.
'I thought I'd come and pick you up-just in case you'd forgotten about our date.'
Forgotten? Her mouth curled into a smile at the absurdity of the thought. She had her own car parked only yards away and as she looked across at it, she regained enough sanity to ask breathlessly, 'But how did you know what train I'd be on?'
Saul laughed, his voice faintly self-mocking as he drawled, 'I didn't, so I've met each one.'
The curve of his mouth invited her to share his amusement, but she couldn't. She was too overwhelmed. Tears stung her eyes, her throat closing up with a mixture of delight and anguish. It had been years since anyone had cared enough about her to do such a thing-in fact the last person she could remember doing so was her mother.
'Hey … '
The bulk of Saul's body shielded her from curious passers-by, his hand gentle and protective as he turned her in towards himself, his eyes concerned and faintly shadowed as he looked down at her.
'I'm sorry … ' What on earth must he think of her? Shame scorched her face. Some explanation was due to him, but what could she say apart from the truth?
'You'll think me a fool I know, but it's just that it's been so long since anyone cared enough for me to do something as crazy as that.'
She thought she heard him swear softly under his breath as his arms went round her, the solid strength of his body supporting her as he drew her against his warmth, her head seemed to fit perfectly in the curve of his shoulder, her eyes closing in blissful delight as she felt the light movement of his lips against her forehead.
Abruptly he released her, his eyes glowing darkly.
'You're making it very hard for me to remember that I told myself I'd take things slowly,' he told her huskily.
'I'd better make my own way home-I can't leave my car here.' It was torture to step away from him, her senses brought achingly to life by the look in his eyes.
'Will an hour be long enough for you to get ready to go out?'
An hour? Being apart from him for more than five minutes would be sheer torture, but somehow she managed to nod her head and then walk away and get in her own car.
Later she decided it was a miracle she managed to drive home without incident. When she thought about it she could not remember a single thing about the drive, but she could remember how she had felt when Saul touched her, when he looked at her with that dark desire that made her blood pound and her pulses race.
As she stopped outside the Dower House he drove past her, sounding his horn and giving her a brief wave.
She collected her belongings and went inside. Suddenly an hour seemed far too short a time to get ready in. She was hot and sticky and in need of a shower. Her hair needed washing after the dustiness of the city. She had to ring the vicarage and check that all was well with the children.
She performed the last chore first, relieved to hear that all was going well.
'In fact I was going to ask you if they could stay another night, they're getting on so well with Amanda and Daniel.'
'Well if you're sure it's no trouble?'
'Not at all,' Nancy reassured Lucy. 'I'm enjoying it tremendously.'
They arranged that Lucy would pick them up on Thursday morning.
As she replaced the receiver Lucy realised with a tiny kick of pleasure that she would have a second night of freedom … a second night when … When what?
Betrayingly her body remembered the hard warmth of Saul's against it, and putting shaking hands against her hot cheeks Lucy warned herself not to get too carried away.
The vibrant fuchsia pink of her outfit, so hard for someone with the paler eyes normally associated with her colouring to wear, looked stunning against the foil of her darker skin and richly warm eyes.
The summer had given her a good tan, at the same time highlighting her blonde hair, and the effect of the vivid silk against her warm brown flesh and Nordic pale hair had a visual impact that even she found faintly startling.
It was warm enough for her to go bare legged, a pair of high-heeled sandals emphasising the slender delicacy of her ankles.
At twenty she had been faintly podgy, but that puppy fat had soon disappeared, and in the anxiety of her father's illness and subsequent death she had lost more weight-perhaps just a shade too much, she thought judiciously, studying the narrow flatness of her hips, and wondering anxiously if Saul would find such slenderness unfeminine.
She kept her make-up to a minimum, just the merest dusting of highlight across her cheekbones, its pinky tones echoed in her lipstick and eyeshadow. Perfume was something she rarely wore-her lifestyle made it unsuitable; she found it cloying during the daytime, and went out so rarely at night that she never bought any, but this evening she had filched some of Fanny's bath oil-a perfume she did not recognise, Lutèce, but which now enveloped her in a delicately scented cloud.
Saul was five minutes early, for which he apologised as she opened the door to him. It was a new sensation for her to have someone so eager for her company, so much so that part of her cautioned her against getting carried away, warning her that the emotion and desire she could read in Saul's eyes could be as ephemeral as a daydream.
But there was nothing ephemeral about the way he smiled at her as he studied the lissom slenderness of her body before helping her into the car; nothing ephemeral about the touch of his fingers against her skin as he brushed against her arm when fastening her seatbelt.
His touch brought out a rash of goosebumps, the tiny hairs on her arm standing on end as she shook with a delicate shudder. She saw his eyes darken and his body tense as it responded to the signals of her own and felt desire flower inside her as she realised that he shared her need.
He had booked a table at a restaurant several miles away in a peaceful riverside setting.
Lucy knew it by repute but had never dined there before, and because it was only early in the week the dining-room was only pleasantly full.
When they didn't have drinks in the bar but went straight to their table, Lucy thought that Saul must be hungry, but as she was studying the menu an ice bucket and champagne arrived.
'As far as your book's concerned, I don't know yet whether this will be to celebrate or commiserate,' he told her softly as the waiter filled their glasses with the foaming liquid. 'But I certainly want to celebrate my good fortune in being here with you tonight, Lucy.'
The champagne slid coolly down her throat, fizzing intoxicatingly, the texture deliciously dry.