Barefoot in the Dark by Lynne Barrett-Lee

forearm, then whipped it away suddenly and lowered her eyes. This was good. This was progress. Perhaps he hadread things right. She looked thoughtful. Shy even. Maybe he should consolidate and make some sort of move.
    ‘It was a lovely dinner,’ she said hurriedly, beating him to it. ‘And you must please, please let me give you something towards the taxi.’ She starting fiddling with the clasp on the little bag in her lap. Aha! An opportunity. He reached out and placed his hand over hers. Her skin was warm, almost hot. And very, very soft. Following her lead, he now squeezed her hand gently, wondering, as her other hand hovered between them, if she might plonk it on top of his own now, in some sort of famous-five-pact ritual thing. Which would be fine. Just fine. He had another hand available. Pre-pubescent foreplay was OK by him. But she didn’t. She just sat.
    ‘I will not,’ he said sternly, to consolidate. ‘And no arguments.’
    ‘But –’
    He shook his head. ‘No buts.’
    ‘But –’
    ‘Where here, love?’
    Hope stopped butting and gave the driver more directions. Was it the light, or had she coloured a little? They were in her road now, it seemed, and approaching her house. ‘But nothing,’ said Jack smoothly. ‘Like I said, it’s been a pleasure.’ He looked intently at her, smiling. It would bea pleasure. Decided, Jack let go of her hand as the taxi pulled up, and leapt out while she re-fastened her bag. She looked bemused to find him standing to attention by the door as she climbed out.
    Flustered, in fact. ‘There was really no need –’
    Should he go for it? Should he?
    ‘So,’ he said instead. ‘Here we are, then.’
    ‘Here we are indeed.’ She pushed a bit of hair around again. ‘Thank you so much for this evening. I’d ask you in but I suppose you’ll want to be getting back.’ She gestured towards the taxi. The driver inside was fiddling with a knob on his radio set.
    ‘I guess I will,’ he said. And in one fluid movement he clasped her shoulder with one hand, shut the car door with the other, leaned forward, pursed his lips, changed his mind, opened them, and made satisfying contact with her mouth. She’d proffered her cheek, of course, but he was wise to that one. Their lips met and parted in an untidy muddle, which was more than she’d expected and the best he could hope for. She looked mildly shocked.
    ‘It’s been lovely, Hope,’ he said, drawing back and reluctantly letting go of her. She was blinking at him now. He smiled in what he hoped was a reassuring manner. He didn’t want her thinking he was some sort of letch. She grinned coyly at him, so he smiled the smile wider. ‘I hope we can do it again soon.’
    As Jack got back into the taxi he’d already mentally ditched the word ‘again’ from this statement. A sporting analogy seemed rather fitting. God, just do it. To just do it at allwould be nice.
    She waved as they drove off. Damn, he felt horny. Damn, but he wished he’d brought the car.

Chapter 8
    ‘Well, well!’ Madeleine’s chuckle rang loudly down the phone line. ‘So you and Prince Charming have struck up a bit of a rapport, then?’
    Oh God. She should have stopped and thought before yammering on so much. Madeleine was on the case, big time. Hope’s lack of a love-life was Maddie’s favourite project. Had been since the day Iain had left. Why hadn’t she kept her mouth shut? More to the point, if the prospect of a love-life filled her with such a palpable fear, which it manifestly did, why was she letting it dominate her thoughts? Why not call a moratorium on love and be done with it? She really didn’t need all this angst.
    ‘He’s very nice,’ she said carefully.
    ‘You told me that already. We still on nice nice?’
    ‘Just nice, Maddie. Stop it.’
    ‘Babe, I haven’t even started. Besides, what’s the big deal?’
    ‘It isn’t a big deal.’
    ‘Yeah, and I’m a kipper.’
    ‘It isn’t. He’s just nice, OK? No more