13.

'Where's the restaurant?' I ask Marc, as the limo drives across London.

'I've already told you. Soho.'

'But which part of Soho?'

'Very near here.'

'How near?'

'Sophia-'

'Sorry.'

'Stop twiddling your hair.'

I give a nervous laugh and drop my fingers.

The limo pulls to a stop.

'See?' says Marc, checking his watch. 'We're here already. And we are exactly forty minutes early. Happy now Mrs Blackwell?'

'I know, I know. It's silly to be so early. But I just didn't want to sit around worrying about being late.'

Marc puts an arm around my shoulder. 'Lucky for you I have something planned to kill the time.'

Marc leads me down a narrow, cobbled lane, past tiny restaurants and bars.

'Are we going for a pre-lunch drink or something?' I say. 'Because if we are, I'm not sure that would be so wise. I can barely speak as it is, I'm so nervous.'

'We're not going for a drink. We're going here.'

Marc pulls me to a stop by a window.

I see diamond necklaces, silver rings and rose gold bangles, all hanging artfully over tree branches.

The price tags make my eyes water.

'I heard you and Jen talking earlier,' says Marc. 'And I thought maybe you'd like to choose some diamonds.'

'Marc, I don't need anything. Really.'

'You don't have to need something for me to buy it for you.'

'Yes, but-'

'No arguments. Jen said your outfit needed diamonds. So diamonds you shall have.'

'Doesn't this count?' I ask, holding up my diamond engagement ring. It sparkles above my slim, silver wedding band.

'I believe Jen mentioned a necklace. And who am I to go against your fashion guru?'

'I don't need other jewellery.'

'One of the reasons I love spoiling you is because you're so unspoiled. Anything you want in this shop is yours. Come with me.'

We head inside and the door clatters closed behind us.

A forty-something lady with curly red hair sits behind a gla.s.s counter. She has a novel in her hand and lowers it when she sees us.

'Good morning. Actually, it's afternoon now isn't it? Welcome, anyway. Have you seen something in the window or are you just browsing?'

'Everything in the window is beautiful,' I say. 'Um. I suppose we're ... I'm looking for something in particular. A necklace. A diamond one. To go with this outfit.'

The lady looks me up and down, then smiles. 'I have just the thing.'

She goes to a gla.s.s wall cabinet and takes out a necklace on a velvet cushion.

It's a tiny, whisper-thin line of diamonds that sparkles like fire.

'Of course, if you'd like bigger stones-'

'No not at all,' I say. 'That necklace is perfect. Really beautiful. I love how subtle it is.'

'Would you like to try it on?' the lady asks.

'Yes please.'

'Perhaps your gentleman could help you.' She looks up at Marc, then does a double take. 'Mr Blackwell! Many apologies. I should have recognised you sooner. I usually have a good eye for celebrities.'

'It's not a problem,' says Marc. 'I prefer it when people don't recognise me, as a matter of fact. And I'm willing to bet that fairly soon people will be recognising Sophia here before they recognise me.'

'I doubt that,' I say.

'I don't.' Marc lifts the diamond necklace from the cushion.

I feel the familiar shiver of desire as his fingers move at the back of my neck. I know Marc feels it too because I hear his breathing quicken.

'Beautiful,' says the lady. 'Absolutely beautiful.'

I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, watching the elegant line of diamonds glitter around my collarbone. It really does look lovely.

Marc hands over his visa card. 'We'll take it.'

'Thank you,' I say softly.

Once Marc has paid for the necklace, he takes my hand and leads me out onto the street.

'Do you like your necklace?'

'I love it.'

He leans down and kisses me. The people around us melt away and I feel Marc's fingers slide into my hair.

I forget where I am and let out a little sigh as our bodies press together.

'We can still call off lunch,' Marc whispers. 'Just say the word.'

'No,' I murmur. 'No we can't do that.'

'I've known Nadia a long time ...'

'We have to go.' I extract myself from Marc's arms and stumble a little on the pavement, still giddy from his touch.

Marc throws me one of his stomach-melting half smiles. 'You're sure?'

'I'm sure. Now come on, let's get to the restaurant.'

14.

At the restaurant, Marc and I are shown to the bar area.

We sit on stools under legs of cured ham hanging from the ceiling, while a waiter pours us each a small sherry.

'Nadia's always late,' says Marc. 'She and timekeeping were never good friends.'

I pick up the sherry and look uncertainly at the gla.s.s. 'I'm not sure I should drink this. What if I'm ... you know?'

'Dr Christian said that one drink will be fine.'

'You've been talking to Dr Christian?'

'Of course. I wanted to know if there were any foods you should avoid today. So I could call the chef and make sure they weren't on the menu.'

I laugh. 'Only you would consider getting the whole menu changed just for me. So are you telling me to drink?'

'The doctor said one drink is fine. Whether you drink it is up to you.'

'Maybe I shouldn't ... what do you think?'

Marc laughs. 'Now this is something I never imagined.'

'What?'

'Me trying not to control you. And you throwing it right back in my face. So you're asking me to tell you what to do now?' He gives me his quirky smile.

'I'm not asking you to tell me what to do,' I say. 'I'm just ... thinking out loud.'

I look at the guitars and terracotta plates hanging from the walls. 'I like this place. Have you been here before?'

'Many times. Always with Nadia. It's her favourite. Now. If you're insisting on having a drink, perhaps we should have some food too. While we're waiting. You shouldn't drink on an empty stomach.'

'Agreed. Would you order?'

Marc laughs again. 'It would be my pleasure to order for you, Mrs Blackwell.' He calls over the waitress. 'Olives, roast almonds and calamari please.'

'What's calamari?' I whisper. 'Is that like fish?'

'Squid.'

'Don't smirk like that! We haven't all grown up eating in fabulous restaurants.'

'I haven't grown up eating in fabulous restaurants. There was a time I didn't know what calamari was either. In fact, the first time I had it I thought I was eating onion rings.'

'Where was that?'

'In Barcelona. Filming Hope with Baz Smith. And Nadia as a matter of fact. I was young, but Baz and the crew treated me like I was a full-grown man. Taking me to bars. Clubs. Drinking. Smoking. Fighting. The full experience.'

Baz Smith. The gangster actor who took Marc under his wing. And threw him into a bare-knuckle boxing match as a young man ...

'Weren't you scared?' I ask.

'Petrified. But I didn't let on. That's what men do, in case you hadn't realised. We hide our fears behind bravado.'

'So you still get scared now?'

'I hadn't been scared in years until I met you. I had nothing to lose before. Now I have everything.'

Our fingers mesh and our eyes meet.

A very cautious waiter sets olives, almonds and calamari on the bar.