Ed seemed to be going for cool and casual as well, and Perdita began to wonder if she had misinterpreted things when he had told her that his daughters were nagging him to get a life. Perhaps they weren’t thinking in terms of a girlfriend at all? They had probably just meant that he needed to make some new friends.

Which would be good, of course, because if a friend was all he wanted, she could do that without any problem. That was all she wanted too, and if she was just going out with a friend, she could treat him like Rick or Millie and stop feeling tense.

So why was she still vibrating like a tuning fork?

The concert was held in one of the city’s medieval churches, which provided an atmospheric setting and wonderful acoustics. They sat in the old pews, which weren’t that comfortable to begin with and got a whole lot more uncomfortable when someone tried to find a space at the end of the row and they all had to shuffle along.

For one awkward moment Perdita found herself jammed up against Ed’s rock-solid body before, with a lot of whispered apologies along the line, they managed to rearrange themselves. Perdita felt thoroughly flustered by the brief encounter and one whole side of her body seemed to be strumming where it had been pressed against his. She had thought the time their fingers had brushed in his kitchen was disturbing enough, but this was much worse.

She shifted very carefully on the pew. He was still very close. It would take only a moment’s relaxation for their shoulders to lean against each other, or their thighs to touch, and that would never do.

Perdita sat rigidly and looked at the worn carvings on the pillars, at the soaring arches, at the frankly rather unpleasantly hairy neck of the man in front of her, at everything and anything except Ed, who was sitting in self-contained silence beside her.

Not that she needed to be looking at him to picture the humorous grey eyes or the wry set of his mouth. That slight bump in his nose, the way the hair grew at his temples, the exact line of his jaw…Perdita could have drawn them in her sleep, and that worried her. She had known her friend Rick for years and years, but she wouldn’t be able to picture him down to the same tiny details.

Once she had known Nick like that, had treasured every tiny detail of him, but now she struggled to conjure him up with anything like the same sharpness. When she thought of him now, what she remembered was the sadness in his eyes, and her own longing and despair.

And now she was sitting next to another man and wanting to touch him with such a fierce need that she felt physically sick. Perdita’s gaze skittered desperately around the church, but time and again it would graze Ed’s profile in spite of her best efforts not to look at him. Her eyes kept being drawn to the corner of his mouth, to the pulse beating in his neck below his ear, to the severe angle of his cheek.

They were so close. His shoulder was just there, right next to hers. It would be so easy to lean against him and press her lips to his throat. So easy to lay her hand on his thigh. Perdita’s palm actually tingled with the realisation of how little it would take to touch him, and she clutched her hands together in her lap, terrified that one of them might reach out for him of its own accord.

Her whole body seemed to be humming and strumming and, much as Perdita wanted to believe that she was uplifted by the music, she knew that it wasn’t Bach having this effect on her. It was Ed, doing nothing, saying nothing, just listening quietly to the orchestra as the music swelled and soared up into the roof.

Perdita began to feel quite dizzy with the effort of keeping herself under control, and her mind scrabbled desperately to keep a foothold on reality. Ed was her boss, remember?

He was a single father, remember?

She wasn’t interested in being more than a friend, remember that one?

But it was so hard to remember when he was mere inches away.

When the orchestra broke for an interval, Perdita leapt to her feet before they had all finished applauding, unable to bear the excruciating temptation of sitting so close for a moment longer. ‘I could do with stretching my legs,’ she said abruptly. ‘These pews weren’t designed for modern bottoms!’

Since there was no bar to repair to, and the weather was distinctly uninviting outside, they wandered around the church, Perdita chattering feverishly in great bursts and then drying up completely because she couldn’t think of anything to say other than, Take me home and make love to me.

The words bubbled in her throat, pressing at her lips until she was in a panic in case they actually burst out of her and she shouted them out loud in the church. At least it would startle all the other concert-goers out of the conversations they were conducting in suitably hushed, reverent tones, Perdita thought wildly. Terrified that Ed would somehow guess what she was thinking, she hugged her arms together and stared at an eighteenth-century funerary monument with ferocious concentration.

There was a stir as the orchestra started filing back in and people headed back to their seats. Ed put his hand against the small of Perdita’s back to guide her through the crowd and the last breath in her lungs evaporated at his touch. She could feel the warmth of his palm through two layers of clothing and every sense in her body tingled. She was burning, simmering, shimmering with it. Surely Ed could see?

But his expression was impossible to read. He hadn’t been flirting, but there had been a smile at the back of his eyes when he looked at her and was it her imagination or was he letting his hand linger on her back longer than was strictly necessary?

Was he?

Perdita barely heard the second part of the concert above the thrumming in her blood and it was a relief to throw her energies into clapping enthusiastically, which at least gave her a chance to pull herself together. Then they got into the business of gathering up coats and Ed’s umbrella and shuffling along as the crowd funnelled through the doors at the west end of the church, so she had a few minutes to compose herself.

But it was all wasted the moment she realised that it was still raining outside. On the one hand, it was a very good thing that Ed had been prepared enough to bring an umbrella, so at least they wouldn’t get wet. On the other, they were going to have to walk close together all the way back to her flat, and that wasn’t good. That wasn’t good at all.

‘This thing’s big enough for both of us,’ said Ed, putting up the umbrella and holding it over Perdita’s head. ‘Come and stay dry.’

Perdita held herself stiffly as they walked back through the city in a charged silence. The streets were slick with rain and tyres hissed as the cars passed them. On a Saturday night there were lots of people around, either going home after an evening out or, in the case of the younger ones, just getting ready to start theirs. They moved in packs through the streets, the girls teetering on high heels and skimpily dressed in spite of the rain.

Ed shook his head. ‘That’ll be Cassie in a couple of years. She’s dying to be old enough to go clubbing.’

‘Tell her she’ll catch her death if she doesn’t wear a nice cardie,’ said Perdita.

He gave a snort of laughter. ‘I can already hear her reply!’

Perdita was desperately aware of him under the umbrella. Plunging her hands in her pockets, out of temptation, she walked with her head bent and concentrated on breathing nice and steady.

Should she invite Ed in for coffee when they got back to her flat? It would be rude not to, but how was she going to keep her hands off him if they were alone with her single squashy sofa and the soft light of a table lamp and the rain against the windows?

Perdita swallowed hard. What would Ed think if she did invite him in? Would he think that she meant to make coffee, or would he interpret it as meaning something quite different? He could always refuse if he didn’t want to, she reasoned, and, frankly, why should he? Sheer lust had made her tongue-tied and nervous, so it wasn’t as if she had been scintillating company tonight. She stole a glance at Ed’s unyielding profile. He was probably formulating a polite excuse about getting back to the kids even now.

But what if he did come up? What then? Perdita’s mouth dried at the prospect, so much so that the whole question could very well turn out to be academic as she doubted that she could even manage, Would you like a cup of coffee?

They had crossed the bridge and were walking along the river bank now. It was darker down here, but the lamps between the trees cast a wavering yellow light on the dark gleam of water. The river walk was a popular route home for lots of people on this side of town, so they weren’t quite alone, but it felt as if they were cut off from everyone else by an invisible shield that trapped them in a universe all of their own where there was only the soft splatter of rain on the umbrella, the muted click of their footsteps and the booming of her pulse.

Absorbed in thought, she was unaware of Ed’s gaze on her face. Her skin gleamed palely in the dim light and he could make out the curve of her mouth and the alluring sweep of her lashes against her cheek. Even in the dark, Perdita was vivid, even when silent, there was a sensuous kind of fizz and sparkle about her, as if her body wasn’t big enough to contain her personality.

Ed had recognised her verve and intelligence right from the start. He liked her frankness and her generosity and her wit. He thought she was attractive and stylish. But it was only this evening, sitting next to her through that interminable concert, that he had come to realise how incredibly sexy she was and, now that he had realised, he was finding it very difficult to think about anything else.

Had he really decided at that lunch that being friends would be enough?

Fool, Ed told himself dispassionately. Of course it wasn’t enough.

Perdita was taken by surprise when Ed stopped suddenly under a tree, and had gone a few steps out of the shelter of the umbrella before she realised that he wasn’t beside her and retraced her steps.

‘Is something the matter?’

‘Yes.’

‘What is it?’

‘I don’t think,’ said Ed slowly, ‘that I can go any further until I’ve kissed you.’

The last of the breath she had been so carefully hoarding leaked out of Perdita at that and she looked at him, her heart hammering so loudly she was sure that he must hear it. The smack of it against her chest wall was really quite painful and she swallowed carefully.

‘I…I’m not sure that’s a good idea,’ she managed with difficulty.

‘Nor am I,’ said Ed, ‘but let’s try and then we’ll know.’

One hand still holding the umbrella above their heads, he drew Perdita towards him with the other. It would have been easy for her to sidestep him, to pull back, but she didn’t. She couldn’t resist this deep, dark pull of attraction any longer, and she didn’t want to. Just one kiss, she told herself hazily-that wouldn’t be so bad, would it?

The touch of Ed’s lips sent a strange jolt of recognition through Perdita. It was as if they had kissed a thousand times before, as if she had always known this sense of utter rightness. It was like coming home, she thought dazedly, kissing him back, able to touch him and taste him at last, to slide her arms around him the way she had been thinking about all evening. He felt even better than she had imagined, so warm and solid and steady, his lips so sure on hers, sending honeyed fire spilling through her veins.

Ed let the umbrella fall unheeded to the ground so that he could use both hands to pull her closer, tighter, harder against him. Perdita kissed the way that she did everything else-with passion-but she was softer than he had imagined, softer and sweeter, and breathtakingly pliant in his arms. Her hair was like silk as he tangled his fingers in it, her perfume made his head reel and, as their kisses deepened and grew hungrier, more demanding, Ed felt himself losing his footing and he lifted his head, drawing a ragged breath as he fought for control.

He smoothed the hair back from Perdita’s face with a shaky smile, still holding her close in the circle of one arm. ‘Well, what do you think?’ he asked when he could speak.

‘Think?’ Perdita looked as dazed as he felt.

‘Was it a good idea or not?’

‘Probably not,’ she said unsteadily, but she was smiling as he drew her back against him and she met his kiss with her own, pulling his head down and spreading her hands over his back, sliding them under his jacket, murmuring with inarticulate pleasure.