Chapter 14

THE ONLY GOOD thing about leaving Ravello was knowing that now she’d rejigged the schedule and put the Italian programme ahead of the Austrian, they’d be back again in less than two weeks. The closeness Allyson was starting to feel with Mark was something she wasn’t ready to put into words; it was enough just to feel it and know that he felt it too. He’d insisted that he wanted to take everything at her speed, even though she had no idea how fast or slow that was, except she was still a very long way from being able to make any kind of commitment again. She was also quite overwhelmed by the fact that any of this was happening at all. Self-effacement definitely wasn’t her thing, but even without the horrible battering her confidence had taken over Bob’s desertion, she’d never imagined a man wanting her rather than Shelley. Not even Bob had been immune to Shelley’s charms, it seemed, though Shelley, being the friend she was, had always spurned his advances. Which was why Allyson felt so bad about what was happening between her and Mark, for she’d done little to spurn him, even though she’d known she was trampling Shelley’s dream. But maybe Shelley wasn’t as hurt as she feared, after all there had been no actual relationship between her and Mark, and Shelley knew very well that none of them had any control over the vagaries of love.

However, despite feeling that she had her relationship with Mark under careful control, Allyson had to confess that their parting, when they returned to London, was a much greater wrench than she’d expected. And the flat, when she walked in, seemed horribly empty and cold. For a moment she felt herself sliding towards depression, as the confusion of what had happened with Mark, and what it might mean for her and Bob, started to engulf her. But then the phone rang, bringing a call from her mother, which was quickly followed by a call from Zac and Justine wanting to know how it had gone in Italy; then Alan, the director, was on the line with some preliminary thoughts on crewing. Half an hour later she was on the point of heaving her suitcase onto the bed to empty it when the phone shrilled into life again. This time it was Mark.

‘I promised myself I wouldn’t do this,’ he said, ‘but as I’m at a loose end for dinner, I was wondering if you were free.’

‘I promised myself I’d say no if you asked,’ she replied, ‘but if you bring the wine I’ll cook.’

He arrived an hour later and they made love straight away. She sensed a new urgency to their passion, that must have been incited by the parting, for the lazy, though unsurpassable tenderness of Italy was replaced by an aggressive need to be as close as their bodies would allow.

Only afterwards, as they lay breathlessly in each other’s arms, did Allyson think of Bob, and how no other man but him had slept in this bed. But that was going to change now if she could persuade Mark to stay.

It was never discussed, he just did.

The next morning as she drove to the office her mood was coasting buoyantly about in memories of the night before, as she relived every smile and caress, every word and sensation. Though she knew there were still many complications to overcome, she was content to allow herself these few precious moments of believing that the worst of the pain was behind her, and that everything would work out perfectly in the end. Her heart was suddenly seized by the naivety of that, for one of the messages on her answerphone last night had been from her lawyer saying that Bob wanted to see her. She knew instinctively what it would be about, and then she was sunk in guilt as she remembered how passionately she had once vowed that she would stand by him through whatever crisis middle age might bring. But life had moved on a long way since then, and her feelings had changed in ways she could never have predicted. It was true that a part of her longed desperately to turn back the clock to a time before Tessa, and before Mark, so that they could erase the heartache of these past few months and return to being the people they’d always been. But of course it wasn’t possible, so they had no choice but to deal with things the way they were now.

Feeling a sudden urge to speak to Mark she reached for her phone. He was flying to New York in a couple of hours so she’d probably get him on his mobile en route to the airport. But before she could dial the number her own phone rang.

‘Allyson Jaymes,’ she said.

‘Are you missing me as much as I’m missing you?’ he demanded.

‘More,’ she answered, with a smile. ‘Where are you?’

‘On my way to the airport.’

She groaned. ‘I wish you didn’t have to go. What time’s your flight?’

‘Eleven.’ He paused for a moment, then lowered his voice as he said, ‘Last night was very special.’

‘For me too,’ she whispered. ‘Is there time for me to get to the airport to see you before you go?’

He laughed. ‘I don’t think so. But you could get a later flight and join me in New York.’

‘You know I would if I could. When will you be back?’

‘In ten days. Sooner if I can.’ There was a moment’s pause before he said, ‘Are you going to see your husband?’

Sighing, she nestled the phone into her shoulder as she negotiated the mini-roundabout at the junction of North End and Fulham Roads. ‘I don’t think so,’ she said. ‘At least not yet. I’m not going to have the time with this programme to arrange.’

He said no more on the subject, which didn’t surprise her for when they’d discussed it last night he’d agreed that the decisions she made on her marriage were for her to take alone, especially when their relationship was so new.

They spoke for a while longer, then were forced to ring off when Allyson drove into the multi-storey car park beside the office.

Zac and Justine were already at their desks when she walked in, getting the massive organization of the Italy programme under way. There was no sign of Shelley, which wasn’t a surprise, for she’d left a message on Allyson’s machine to say her mother had had a mild stroke so she was going to be in the New Forest for the next couple of days. Not for a minute did Allyson think Shelley would lie about something like that, even if she did profess to detest her mother, but she couldn’t help wondering if Shelley hadn’t welcomed an excuse to avoid hearing about the trip to Ravello. For her part Allyson could only feel relieved that she wouldn’t have to be constantly aware of Shelley’s sensibilities for a while, though she resolved to call her later to find out how her mother was, and put forward her proposal that Shelley and several others from the team join the party in Italy.

After checking her email, she went back out to the main office to sit with Zac and Justine. They would need to be in each other’s pockets during the build-up to this show, and there was a good chance they’d have to rope in a couple more researchers to help them out. She made a mental note to bring that up with Shelley, then after getting Marvin to sort out the processing of her films, she laid out the originals of the copious notes she’d made in Italy which she’d faxed back to the office for Zac and Justie to get on with. They were certainly moving along, but there was still an endless number of details and suggestions that needed to be discussed and before long half the office had managed to join in the planning. It quickly deteriorated into a ludicrous free-for-all, providing a convenient platform for the wits among them, and a great opportunity for those who wanted to toss in holiday memoirs or dream adventures. The party in Ravello was going to be an impossible act to follow, was almost everyone’s opinion, until Zac came up with a brilliant idea that made everyone roar with laughter. It was at that point that Tessa walked into the office to find Allyson in the midst of a hilarious group, and looking so flushed with pleasure that it was impossible to think that her trip to Italy had been anything other than a resounding success.

Turning, Allyson saw Tessa and said, ‘Ah, just the person. We’re talking about doing a programme from Transylvania at the end of April. There’s a convention of vampires.’

Tessa’s face froze. Were they calling her a vampire?

‘What happened to the piece you did on those dolls?’ Allyson said. ‘The ones who belonged to a North London writer? It could be perfect for this programme. Did you ever edit it?’

‘No,’ Tessa said.

‘Well, there’s plenty of time. Just make it good and scary.’

Allyson turned back to the others, and Tessa walked over to her desk. She still felt shaken, even though she knew she’d misunderstood. It was reminding her of when she was at school, and all the times she’d thought she was being laughed at then, even when she wasn’t. But all that was in the past now, it had nothing to do with what was happening here, today, so there was no reason to get upset, or angry with Allyson, especially not when it sounded like the trip to Italy was going to be a lot of fun, and when she, as the presenter, would naturally be at the centre of it all.

Three manically busy days had passed since their return from Ravello and Allyson was close to screaming. She’d barely had a minute to herself, and every time she snatched one out of the chaos and picked up the phone to call Mark, he was either in a meeting, on another line or en route to some other venue in the city. She’d got him once, on his mobile, but the reception had been so bad they’d had to ring off. He’d said he would call her later, at home, but she hadn’t got in until late and there was no message waiting.

Being in almost constant touch with the company publicists who were handling the hotel’s opening extravaganza made her wonder if they were talking to Mark, for their guest list was starting to boast some pretty impressive American names that he could very well be adding. On the other hand, it could be Claudia who was drumming up all the celebrities, since she was the one who ran the cable station and had access to everyone who was anyone in the US showbiz community.

As far as the UK went, since promos for the programme had started to air, she’d been inundated with requests, even bribes, for invitations to the party, so the only problem they were facing on that front was making the decisions on who should or shouldn’t be selected. It was huge fun shuffling some of the overblown egos up and down the guest list and sometimes zapping them altogether, at least for Zac and Justine it was, for Allyson it was turning into nothing short of a nightmare. She was going to have to stop answering her own phone, for it seemed everyone she’d ever known wanted to speak to her now, or see her, or take her to dinner, or invite her to a party of their own.

‘No! No! No!’ she cried, clasping her hands over her ears as Zac and Justine teased her with yet another chorus of unrefusable offers. ‘And if you think it’s so funny …’

‘Allyson! There’s a call over here for you,’ Hayley shouted out. ‘Do you want me to take a message?’

‘No, give it to Zac,’ she answered, and ran into her own office to grab the phone that was ringing there. ‘Allyson Jaymes,’ she said into the receiver, then spun round to hold up a hand to whoever was calling her name. ‘Sorry, who is it?’ she said, blocking her other ear.

‘It’s Bob, your husband,’ he answered.

Allyson’s eyes closed as the world outside her office seemed suddenly to recede and the guilt flowed in. Of all the calls she didn’t want to take right now … ‘Bob,’ she said. ‘You know you’re supposed to …’

‘… speak through your lawyer. I know, and I’m trying, but you’re not being very responsive.’

‘Because I’m really busy at the moment. Listen, I’m sorry. I will get back to you …’

‘Allyson! For Christ’s sake! Is your lawyer giving you my messages? Is she telling you what I want to talk to you about?’

‘Yes, Bob, she’s telling me, but I just don’t have time right now.’

‘I don’t believe this!’ he cried. ‘What can be more important …?’

‘Bob! I have to go. I’m sorry, but I can’t discuss anything until after this next programme’s out of the way.’

‘Surely you can spare a few minutes …’

‘No! It wouldn’t do any good.’ Then, realizing how much this must be hurting him, she said, ‘It’s our marriage we’re going to be talking about, it deserves more than a few minutes, surely.’

He said nothing, and a few seconds later she heard the line go dead.

‘Allyson!’ Justine yelled. ‘Giovanni from the hotel’s on the line, he has to talk to you. Now!’

Allyson went to take the call and almost collided with Shelley, who was about to come into her office.

‘Hi!’ Allyson cried. ‘I thought you weren’t back until tomorrow.’

Shelley’s smile was ironic. ‘I told you that yesterday,’ she said. ‘Go take the call and if you can spare me …’

‘Allyson,’ Zac said, ‘we’ve got a problem with Burt Barry making the charter flight. Can we put him on a scheduled flight later in the day?’

‘Who’s Burt Barry?’ she said, taking the phone Justine was holding out.

‘A member of Test E-Rone, the band for Happy Hour.’

‘Who?’ Allyson cried.

‘I don’t know, something to do with male hormones. Anyway, can we put him on a …’

‘Yes, if he’s one of the interviewees. No to the guests. They either make the charter or they don’t make the party. Hello,’ she said to Giovanni.

She spent the next few minutes jotting down Giovanni’s latest list of instructions and complaints, then zoomed off to find the production manager who was supposed to be organizing the crew, but was outside the scene dock sneaking a quick cigarette.

The rest of the day continued at the same frenetic pace until, at seven thirty, Shelley walked into Allyson’s office and said, ‘I’m going home now. I’ll expect you in an hour for martinis, margaritas or whatever takes your fancy. I’m not in the mood to cook so we can send out.’

‘Oh God, Shell, I’d love …’

‘No arguments,’ Shelley cut in. ‘You’re going to burn yourself out if you don’t take a break, so I’ll see you in an hour,’ and she was gone.

Relieved at being bossed into leaving, Allyson spent the next few minutes reading through the script she’d sketched out for the film insert, then turned off her computer. There were still a couple of researchers at their desks outside, but the place was emptying fast, and the monitors that usually relayed images from the studio, or off-air news, were all silent.

After checking her watch she picked up the phone and dialled Mark’s office number in New York. This was starting to get embarrassing, always being told he was in a meeting or on another call or somewhere else in the city on business. It was as though he was avoiding her, and it wasn’t simple paranoia that was making her think that, it was a suspicion that he was giving her some space to decide what she wanted to do about Bob. If she was right, then she wished he’d tell her so she’d know for sure what was happening, instead of sitting here having to guess, and trying to stave off the horrible insecurity that was just waiting to put down roots.

The call connected and as the phone at the other end started to ring she began toying with what she would say if she had to leave a message. In fact she rarely did, though the secretary at the other end must surely recognize her voice by now.

‘I’m sorry,’ the secretary said, ‘he left a few minutes ago for a meeting downtown. Can I take a message?’

‘Um …’

‘Is that Carolyn?’

Allyson froze. ‘Uh, no,’ she said. ‘No, it’s … It doesn’t matter. I’ll call again,’ and she quickly rang off.

Of course it didn’t necessarily mean anything. It was only her fragile confidence and hyperactive paranoia making her think the worst, because Carolyn could be anyone. She didn’t have to be the mystery woman he’d taken to France, or anyone else he was either attracted to or involved with. She could be a business acquaintance, an accountant, a lawyer, someone from the bank, or the insurance brokers, the dentist, anywhere … So she wasn’t going to get worked up about this. She was simply going to pack up her things and drive straight over to Shelley’s for an extremely large martini and hopefully some respite from the craziness that seemed to have her under siege right now with no sign of a let-up.

For the fourth time that day Bob picked up the phone and dialled the number of his and Allyson’s flat. If she answered, he’d try again to speak to her, and if he got the machine he’d key in the code to replay her messages, the way he’d been doing all week.

He got the machine.

As he listened to the several different voices the tape had recorded, he could feel himself tensing with the dread that Mark Reiner’s voice would be amongst them again, wondering where Allyson was, and why she wasn’t calling him back. He’d tried her at the office a couple of times, he’d said, but each time she’d been busy on another call and he hadn’t left a message.

There was nothing Bob could do about the calls Reiner made to the office, but those he was making to the flat Bob could erase, thanks to this digital wizardry, before Allyson got to hear them. He rang in regularly, and so far he’d wiped out seven different messages. The first ones he’d listened to, so he knew now how far the relationship had gone. He didn’t need to torment himself by listening to any more, so the very second he heard the man’s voice he hit the buttons that would eliminate the message from existence.

Futile though the gestures might finally prove to be, he had to do something to try and stop the relationship going any further, and this was all he could think of while Allyson was refusing to see him.

Shelley’s flat was a wonderfully warm refuge from the cold night outside, with a small flickering fire in the hearth, a lazy jazz tune playing on the CD and martinis already in the shaker.

‘Help yourself to a drink,’ Shelley shouted from the bathroom, when Allyson called out to let her know she’d arrived. ‘I’ll be right there.’

Slipping Shelley’s key back into her purse, Allyson took off her coat and went over to the bar to fill one of the elegant glasses Shelley used for martinis. The first sip produced such convincing signs of freeing the tension in her head that she took another right away and reached for one of the delicious, wrinkled black olives Shelley must have picked up at Luigi’s on the way home.

It wasn’t until she put her drink on the coffee table and flopped down on the sofa that she noticed the bronze figurine she’d given Shelley at Christmas, exquisitely displayed in a discreet glass case, with a small, hidden light flooding the smoothly sculpted surfaces of the dancer’s fans. As she looked at it Allyson felt deeply moved, for it reminded her of how close she and Shelley actually were, that she would buy something like that, and Shelley would display it so. It was a timely reminder, for she’d been in danger lately of forgetting how much their friendship mattered.

Coming into the room and seeing her looking Shelley said, ‘It displays well there, don’t you think?’

Allyson nodded, then looked up at her in the cosy half light.

Shelley turned away. ‘So, tell me all about Ravello,’ she said in a tone that Allyson couldn’t quite determine. ‘And I don’t mean the recce.’

Allyson reached for her drink and took another sip. ‘Ravello was great,’ she said. ‘We had a really good time.’

‘How lovely,’ Shelley remarked. ‘So are you in love?’

Allyson bit back the response the sarcasm deserved, and reminded herself that this was a lot harder for Shelley than it was for her. So all she said was, ‘I wouldn’t go that far.’

‘So how far did you go?’ Shelley enquired.

‘We slept together, yes,’ Allyson responded. Then, attempting to soften the blow she added, ‘But he went off to New York the day after we got back and I haven’t heard from him since.’

Shelley frowned. ‘So he’s dumped you too?’

‘I’m not sure, he might have.’ In fact, it wasn’t what Allyson thought at all, at least she hadn’t until now. But it had happened to Shelley, so why not to her?

Shelley went to pour herself a martini. ‘Did you ever find out who the woman was he took to Valerie and Jean-Marc’s?’ she asked, her back still turned.

Allyson’s heart tripped. ‘No. Why?’ she said. ‘Did you?’

‘No, I haven’t spoken to them. I was just wondering if that’s what you were thinking.’

‘You read me too well,’ Allyson said, rolling her eyes. ‘Yes, I do keep thinking about her, though to be honest … Well, I really didn’t think she was an issue … I still don’t, but I called his office in New York earlier and his secretary asked me if I was Carolyn.’

Shelley walked over to the facing sofa and sat down. ‘Who’s Carolyn?’ she said.

‘Precisely.’

After a moment Shelley asked, ‘Are you sure she said Carolyn, not Corinne?’

Allyson thought. ‘I don’t know. I suppose it could have been Corinne.’ She laughed. ‘I’d like to think it was Corinne. Anyway, we don’t really want to talk about this. Tell me, have you decided if you’re coming to Italy for the party?’

Shelley flicked back her hair and reached for an olive. ‘I’m not sure,’ she responded. ‘I might not have the time.’

‘I wish you would,’ Allyson said, embarking on the persuasion she knew Shelley wanted.

‘I’ll think about it,’ Shelley promised.

Allyson’s eyes took on a mischievous glow. ‘Just think about all those gorgeous American movie stars and obscure European royalty. Not to mention the smouldering Italian waiters.’

Shelley’s eyebrows flickered, a small, disdainful attempt to join in the spirit of it.

‘We’re going to need someone from Tatler or Harpers to help identify the European royalty,’ Allyson said. ‘I put a call in to Terri Jankler, she should be up for it.’ She reached for her drink, took another large sip then steered the conversation out of the danger zone by saying, ‘Bob’s trying to get in touch. I think he wants to come back.’

Shelley’s eyes widened. ‘Well, there’s a turn-up,’ she commented. ‘Though I can’t say I’m really surprised now that Tessa’s no longer on the scene.’

Allyson didn’t say anything.

‘Is it good news?’ Shelley ventured.

‘I don’t know.’

’If you’re asking my advice,’ Shelley said, ‘I’d say stick with Mark.’

Allyson couldn’t hide her surprise. ‘You would?’

‘Well, how many more times do you want Bob to cheat on you?’

‘But Mark could be doing it now.’

Shelley looked irritated. ‘You don’t really think that,’ she retorted, ‘so let’s stop the charade, shall we?’

Allyson was angry, but not wanting to get into a row, which could easily happen the way things were going, all she said was, ‘We were talking about Bob.’

Shelley went to get the shaker and topped up their glasses. ‘How do you feel about him now?’ she asked in a friendlier voice.

Allyson sighed. ‘I don’t know. I mean I care about him still, obviously, and God only knows if I’ll ever be able to stop thinking of him as my husband … I suppose I did in Italy though, but in the end what happened there might just turn out to be a much needed boost for an ego-crushed woman on the rebound.’ She looked at Shelley. ‘Do you think I should give him another chance? Bob, I mean.’

Shelley helped herself to an olive. ‘I don’t suppose there’s any harm in talking to him,’ she said. ‘At least you’ll find out what he has to say.’

‘That’s the problem, I already know what he wants to say, but I’ve resolved not to decide anything until after we’ve been to Italy – as though Italy’s going to come up with the answers I need.’

‘You never know,’ Shelley responded, ‘it might.’

Later, after Allyson had gone, Shelley undressed, put away her clothes and wrapped herself in a white silk robe. Then she sat in front of the mirror, staring at her reflection, and saw the face of a woman who was suppressing so much rage it was a miracle it didn’t show. But she couldn’t let it show, could she? Not to Allyson, not to anyone. But particularly not to Allyson, because if there was a breakdown in their friendship, or even the slightest fracture, there was every chance that the results would be so disastrous for Shelley that they hardly bore thinking about. Neither could she endure considering the unconscionable spite of fate, or was it God, that had brought Mark Reiner into her life, showing her everything she’d ever wanted, allowing her to believe that the waiting was over, and that dreams were truly worth having, only then to snatch him away and thrust him into the arms of her emotionally bruised and battered best friend. A friend whose injuries seemed to matter so much to God that he was salving them not only with a new love – a love that should have been Shelley’s – but with the return of the old love too. So now Allyson could choose, and while she was making up her mind it seemed that God was going to fly her higher and higher in her new career, on a programme and in a role that had always been Shelley’s. And there was nothing Shelley could do, because all the power and glory were Allyson’s, given to her by Mark Reiner and a protective karma that would sever Shelley brutally from the programme were she to allow her feelings to show.

So she must control them, rein them in and then let them loose on God, or Life, or the Universe, or whatever the hell else it wanted to call itself. Oh, certainly it would be nice if she could continue dumping it all on Allyson, the way she had, in her mind, these past few weeks, but that would be playing straight into God’s hands, wouldn’t it, giving him good reason to rob her of a best friend, a career, everything she had left that meant anything at all, the way he had just robbed her of a lifetime partner. How it must have amused him to shove Mark Reiner in her face. Nice joke that, great entertainment. Let’s torment Shelley for a while before we use her dream to put Allyson back together. Shelley could handle it, because Shelley was used to losing out. She could withstand the heartache and pain, the loneliness and humiliation. After all, she’d had years of practice, since the sparkle of love and shining light of happiness had died with her father, when Shelley was twelve and God had first decided to show her the darkness. That, emotionally, was where he had left her, for there had never been anyone who could replace her father, no-one who could light up her world that way, and God had never even seemed to consider there might be a need. Instead he had given her beauty and success, material joys and the kind of freedom that hurt. In fact, everything that was good in her life was like one huge showy bandage attempting to cover the fatal wounds of neglect. But who the hell cared? What impact did her misery have on a God who wasn’t even listening? And why should he listen, why should anyone, when Venus had bestowed all her bounteous gifts on the woman who was crying out for help?

But the crying was going to stop now. So was the pain, so was the longing. And all those trusty little lieutenants of his, like hope, belief, faith, trust, they were wasting their time trying to work their magic on her. She was turning her back on all of it now and letting God know that none of it, none of it, mattered any more. Allyson could have Mark Reiner, she could have Bob Jaymes too, and let her be happy with the great abundance of choice God had given her, and while she was at it she could be happy for Shelley’s friendship too.

Allyson was laughing and shrieking as the ice-cold champagne trickled down over her body into the madly whirling jets of the jacuzzi bath she was standing in. Mark was beside the bath, a half empty bottle in one hand, a full glass in the other, as he lowered his mouth to her breasts and licked off the champagne. Then, seeing how aroused she was becoming, he took a mouthful of champagne and letting it go over her lips he began sucking and kissing them, as he poured more over her breasts and stomach. His tongue was soon to follow and when he finally reached her most sensitive part she opened her legs to allow him in closer and deeper.

Then his mouth was back on hers and he was holding her hard against him, the coarse hair on his chest rubbing her skin, and the hard muscles of his thighs taking her weight as she raised first one leg, then the other, to wrap them around him and take him inside her.

After a while he stopped kissing her and when she opened her eyes to look into his she saw he was laughing. She laughed too, for she knew that there wasn’t much they could do with this position, except feel proud they’d achieved it.

‘I could give you a tour of the apartment,’ he said.

‘Like this?’

‘Like this. You’ve only seen the kitchen and bedroom, and if I carried you through the rest of the place I could say I made love to you in all eight rooms in less than an hour. Or …’

She laughed. ‘Or?’

He stepped into the jacuzzi. ‘We could get right back in here and let those jets drive you wild while I’m right up inside you.’

Her breath caught on his words, for hearing him talk that way only increased her desire.

He kissed her again, then setting her back down in the huge, octagonal bath he settled himself onto one of the padded bench seats and drew her down onto his erection. Then opening her legs even wider, he increased the speed of the jets until moaning with ecstasy her head fell back against his shoulder and she turned her face into his neck.

The sensations were so intense, cutting through her with such harsh, insistent power that an orgasm was devouring her almost before he could move.

‘Oh God, yes, yes,’ she cried, as his fingers replaced the jet, and his mouth sought hers. Then he was lifting her up, carrying her into the bedroom and lying her down on the bed. As he came into her again she could feel the immense hardness of him filling her and filling her, then pulling back gently before sharply filling her again. Then the pace of his thrusting began building and building, until he was ramming himself into her and crying out her name as the explosion of his climax erupted into the renewed torrents of hers.

Minutes later, as they were still breathless and clinging together, he kissed her on the mouth then rolled onto his side so he was no longer crushing her. Morning sunlight streamed through the open curtains, early-morning traffic honked and roared its way along Eaton Terrace.

‘I could get used to this kind of homecoming,’ he told her.

Laughing she kissed him again, then went into the bathroom to fetch what was left of the champagne. ‘Are you going to fall asleep on me?’ she asked, when she came back and saw that his eyes were closed.

Lifting an arm he looked at his watch. ‘It’s four in the morning, New York time,’ he reminded her.

‘And nine o’clock here, so I have to leave for work pretty soon.’

He watched her as she sat naked and cross-legged on the bed and refilled the glass with champagne. ‘Did you see your husband while I was away?’ he asked.

She shook her head. ‘No. I’ve decided to do it when we get back from Italy.’

‘We leave tomorrow,’ he said.

‘You think I don’t know that?’ she laughed. Then, unable to resist touching him, she scratched her fingers gently over his thighs.

‘Did you consider that he might have called in to erase the messages I left you?’ he said.

Her eyes came up to his face. ‘Yes,’ she answered, and though she felt glad to have a reason for why she hadn’t heard from Mark, she couldn’t help feeling sorry for Bob that he had felt compelled to do something like that.

‘Have you reached any decisions?’ Mark asked.

She looked away, staring at the luggage he had brought in from the airport. He’d called her as soon as he’d landed, demanding to know how, in this day and age, they’d managed to miss each other’s calls for almost two weeks. She’d been so thrilled to hear him that it had been her suggestion to meet this morning, and now here she was, sitting on the end of his huge, masculine bed, not wanting to be anywhere else in the world, yet still managing to feel worried about Bob.

‘Only that I’m not ready to make any yet,’ she answered.

‘Then don’t,’ he said gently. ‘And certainly don’t make any for me.’

Not entirely sure how to take that, or even how she felt about it, she resumed the stroking of his legs, and wished she had better control over her feelings so that she could have at least some idea of what she should do.

‘I’ve organized for us to have separate rooms when we get to Ravello,’ he said.

She nodded, knowing that if he hadn’t done it then she would have, for the press were going to be present in droves and neither of them wanted the party to be about them, when it was actually about the programme and hotel.

‘How are things with Shelley?’ he asked.

‘OK.’ She shrugged. ‘I think she’s accepted us, but she really did …’ She stopped as she realized she was about to tell him something Shelley would never want him to know, which was how deeply Shelley had believed he was the right man for her. She looked down at his face, and understood the depth of Shelley’s disappointment, for she knew how she would feel were he to leave her now. Then she allowed her eyes to travel down over the rest of his body to where her fingers were making him hard.

‘I hope you’re intending to do something about that,’ he said darkly.

Allyson smiled, then tipping the contents of her champagne glass all over his erection, she lifted it from his stomach and set about licking it all off again.

Much later, after they’d showered and dressed for the office, he went to check on the messages that had come in since he’d arrived back. The earlier calls he’d picked up on his way in from the airport, but the phone had rung a couple of times in the past two hours and he needed to satisfy himself there were no emergencies. There weren’t, but Allyson was standing right beside him as the machine replayed Tessa’s jubilant voice welcoming him back from the States and telling him how much she was looking forward to seeing him in Italy.