Cal had looked confused for a second. "It's a Monday, Sophie. I'm fairly sure most of the people you know-and by the way, do you actually know any people?-don't go clubbing on a Monday."

Sophie had thought for a moment. Cal was right, she hadn't seen any of her friends in months, let alone spoken to them on the phone. Now she was back and free again, and she was going to change all that, she was going to change everything. She was going to fill her life up with so many events and nights out and dinners with the girls that she would have no time to think about...well, anything else.

"You're right," she had said. "We'll just go to that party, and then you and I can go clubbing. I'll get the several hundred people I know out on Friday night. We can have two parties. Hooray!" Sophie had made two small fists and shaken them with forced enthusiasm.

"Hooray," Cal had said, looking slightly frightened.

It hadn't really worked out the way Sophie had planned.

By nine that evening, she had been too drunk to do anything very much other than sleep.

Fortunately, she was not a noisy drunk, just a dedicated one. So when Cal had found her propped up at the accounting do bar, gazing miserably at the martini she was drinking, he had been able to usher her quietly out the kitchen door and into the back of a cab without any of her clients seeing her condition.

"What happened to our night of crazy fun?" he had asked her, after he'd told the driver her address. "You are such a lightweight, Sophie. I knew you'd never manage to stay up past ten. I'll come back with you," he had sighed. "You need a coffee or thirty."

"No, no!" Sophie had flapped her arms in denial. "You gotta stay and sort out the...things...'kay?" She had burped noisily and giggled.

Cal had rolled his eyes at the anxious-looking cabdriver and climbed into the cab with her.

"I'll come right back," he had said. "Once I've got you home."

It had been when they were at home and Sophie was stretched out on the comfortable and clean new sofa that she'd bought that Cal had knelt down beside her and asked, "What's up, Sophie? This isn't like you. Something's happened-what is it?"

"It is like me-this is the new me!" Sophie had declared and then, rather morosely, added, "I hate this new sofa."

Cal had sat back on his heels. "Is it because now you've got the job you don't think you can do it?"

"Don't be dericiclous...relidiclous...mad," Sophie had mumbled, deciding it was safer not to attempt any words longer than one syllable.

"Is it the girls?" Cal had asked, as if he had just experienced a revelation. "You miss the little brats running around trashing the place, don't you? Your biological clock has sounded the alarm, and you're panic drinking! Is that it?"

Sophie had turned her face into the cushion.

"Sophie?" Cal had prompted her. "Sophie? Come on, tell me that I'm right, because you don't need a man to get knocked up now, you know. All you need is a willing donor and a turkey baster. I knew these two women who...Sophie? Sophie?"

Gingerly he had leaned forward and looked at her face. She had passed out.

Sophie had sat up with a brain-wrenching start several hours later. Cal had left all the lights on in her living room, her head was thrumming, and her mouth was sticky and dry. It had taken her a second or two to work out how she had got there, but once she had remembered, she had flopped her head into her hands. "Oh, God," she had moaned out loud.

Through her fingers she saw that Cal had left her a note on the repolished coffee table.

"Have gone back to save your career. You were out of it. Think you need to get laid ASAP."

"Ha!" Sophie had laughed mirthlessly. "It was when I got laid that everything went pear-shaped. I should have been a nun. I have a lot in common with nuns. I would have been a natural nun. Plus, I look great in black."

For a second, Sophie had caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, talking to her empty flat. Once she had preferred her own company to anybody else's, now she had to talk to herself just to be sure she was really there. It was all his fault.

"You have a great life," she had told herself as she padded to the bathroom and splashed her face with cold water. "You have your own space, some really good clothes, a great job, lots of friends. You did the right thing, you did the only thing you could do. So just get over it and move on." After drying her face, Sophie had gone into her bedroom and looked at the neatly made bed. With a sigh, she had turned around and gone back to the sofa, switching the lights off as she went.

Once in the semidarkness of her living room, Sophie had slipped off her cocktail dress and draped it carefully over the back of the sofa before lying down and pulling a quilt over herself.

For a long time in the half-light she had listened to the sounds of traffic and watched the pattern of headlights flickering across the ceiling. But she hadn't slept; sleep was impossible with her hungover brain fizzing and humming with a chaotic jumble of incoherent thoughts that she could neither make sense of nor silence.

After a while she had heard Artemis come in.

"'Night, Artemis," Sophie had said wanly. "Sleep well."

But instead of climbing into her favorite armchair, Artemis had done something she had never done before. She had leaped onto the sofa and sat on Sophie's stomach, looking at her with luminous eyes. Carefully, Sophie had stretched out a hand and stroked her behind her ears. Artemis hadn't purred, but she hadn't tried to claw out Sophie's eyes either. Sophie had sat up a little and squinted at the cat just to make sure it really was Artemis and not some randomly affectionate interloper. Artemis had stared back at her. The cat had never sought out attention from Sophie before; it disconcerted and upset her to think that all the upheaval had affected Artemis as well. "Oh, Artemis," Sophie had said, "you must miss them too."

The cat had drawn back from Sophie's strokes and turned her back on her before settling down to sleep.

"I understand," Sophie had said and leaned her head back against her new faux fur cushions. "I don't want to talk about it either."

Sophie had considered the greatest triumph of her career to date, and she had wondered, What did it all mean?

Now, in her new lily-scented office, Sophie closed her eyes for a moment to rid herself of the memory of that particular escapade and concentrated on the caress of the warm air on her cheek, carrying with it the promise of summer, before going back to work on her doodle: a mermaid whose tail reached down the margin of her notebook and flared out across the few notes that she had made on the meeting she was now in.

Oh shit, she was in a meeting.

Sophie looked up, and sure enough everyone sitting around the table had stopped talking and was looking at her expectantly.

"So what do you think about that idea then?" James Winter, one of her new executives, pressed her. "I mean, everybody's done the London Transport Museum and the aquarium, but you've got to agree that's a one-time venue idea, right?"

Sophie glanced at Cal, who was sitting on her right-hand side and had scrawled in inch-high letters on his notepad "CONCORDE."

"Well, yes, it's a good idea, James," Sophie said, sitting up in her chair a little. "But I think there are some issues that need clarification. I mean, where is the nearest decommissioned Concorde-in London? Close enough to get a busload of people there? And second, aren't they a bit small inside? It might be like having a party in a really long, narrow living room. Maybe if the venue was the hangar and the plane was like a sort of chill-out room...but anyway, have you even found out if it's possible to hire one for parties?" James looked sheepish. Sophie was not surprised-his ideas, though original, were often a bit pie in the sky. "Look into it and get back to me. Anyone else got any ideas? No? So, let's catch up on new business leads-anything anyone?"

She knew Cal had some, but before he could open his mouth, Eve's chair slammed forward and she grinned at Sophie from the other end of the conference table. "That'll be me then," she said.

Eight pairs of eyes swiveled in Eve's direction.

Everyone had been surprised when Eve didn't hand in her notice on the day Gillian had formally announced that Sophie was taking over from her. She had made the announcement in the open-plan part of the office, and the collective sigh of relief had been almost audible. Gillian had talked briefly about logistics, asked Sophie to come and see her in an hour or so, and then turned on her heel and returned to her office with a spring in her step that Sophie had never seen before.

Pretty soon everyone else who was still standing about and offering Sophie congratulations had noticed that Eve had not moved a muscle but was standing with her arms folded across her breasts, staring dangerously hard at Sophie. It was at that point that everybody had suddenly remembered a job they had to do elsewhere and scuttled away.

Eve had stalked purposefully over to where Sophie was waiting rather wearily for her, feeling that she should have her gun hand twitching at her holster, if only she had one. "So you're angry you didn't get the promotion?" Sophie had felt someone had to say it.

"Yeah," Eve had said evenly. "But not surprised. I knew you'd get it. All that dead best friend's kids business really gave you the edge, you bitch."

Sophie had considered the statement. Ironically, it was true; being out of the office for weeks on end, looking after the girls, but keeping her hand in at work, really had boosted her in Gillian's estimation.

"So you're leaving?" Sophie had asked Eve flatly. Curiously, she'd discovered she didn't want Eve to go. Gillian had said it had been a hard choice between the two of them, and Sophie had wanted Eve to stay and be her exit route. She had wanted someone able to take her place just in case she got up the courage to walk out of her job and go around the world or something. She didn't think she ever would. She had had her one moment of reckless courage, and it hadn't ended well. But she liked the thought of it being an option.

"No," Eve had replied, eyeing Sophie. "I'm just going to work out some undetectable way of poisoning you."

Sophie had laughed again, but a little nervously this time. "Believe it or not, I'm glad you're staying," she'd said.

"It's mainly because I don't think you'll be here very long. You've gone even softer since you came back from nannying. I reckon you'll find some poor investment banker to marry you and get knocked up before the year's up, so I'm just biding my time really."

Sophie had snorted in response. "Trust me, that's not going to happen," she'd said, knowing that she really didn't want to marry an investment banker.

"Anyway," Eve had said, "it's probably just as well you got the job and not me."

"Why?" Sophie had asked her, genuinely intrigued.

"Well, you can't hang around outside smoking when you're the boss, can you?" Eve had replied.

"No," Sophie had said with more regret than she'd expected. "I suppose you can't." But it wasn't losing the chance to smoke that had made Sophie feel a sudden pang of regret. It was something else entirely that she wouldn't tell Eve or anyone else. A quiet truth that had been nagging her from the moment she had returned to the office. Now that she had everything she had been working toward for the best part of her adult life, now that she had the power and the prestige and the money, she had made a very depressing discovery.

She didn't really want it.

The huge Friday night event she had planned to celebrate her promotion had had to be put off for a week due to the lack of availability of willing guests on such short notice, and even then the numbers had dwindled rather rapidly to the two or three people from the office who weren't too scared to have a drink in front of the boss: Lisa, Cal, and Christina, the only one of Sophie's friends not currently in the kind of relationship that monopolized Friday nights.

"Thank Christ you're back in town, Soph," Christina had told her as she set two glasses of wine down at their table. "If it wasn't for you, I'd have no one to go pick up guys with. I can't believe it, everyone is hooked up. It's so dull when everyone is happy."

"Oh, I know," Sophie had said enthusiastically as she took a large gulp of her wine. "Well, I'm not happy. Any time you want to go on the pull, count me in."

"You're so funny," Christina had said, laughing. "I've quite missed you. So, fill me in then-where have you been recently? I thought you'd emigrated or something. Didn't somebody die?"

Perhaps if Christina had known what was coming, she wouldn't have bothered to ask, but when Sophie was only twenty minutes into recounting her trials and tribulations of the last couple of months, she had noticed that Christina wasn't really listening. Instead she was gazing rather obviously at someone just over Sophie's left shoulder.

"Chris!" Sophie had attempted to regain her friend's attention. "I'm telling the story of my life here."

Christina had jumped. "God, sorry. I just couldn't take my eyes off that man over there. He's very handsome. And he looks rich. Probably married of course or-" Christina had sat back in her seat and dropped her palms onto her knees. "Typical, he's talking to Cal...I should have known. The best ones are always married or gay."

"Or widowers," Sophie had added without thinking.

"Or what?" Christina had asked her.

"Nothing," Sophie had said quickly. "Anyway, that will be Mauro. Cal's been going on about him nonstop since I got back."

Sophie had turned around to get a look at the man who had captured Cal's attention for longer than two minutes, and as she saw him, she caught her breath. It wasn't Mauro.

It was Jake Flynn.

"Oh, God," Sophie had said just as the music lulled for a moment.

Jake had looked up and smiled at her. Sophie had turned quickly back to Christina and downed her glass of wine.

"What?" Christina had demanded. "Don't tell me he's yours. Seriously, if you get a boyfriend before I do, I'm going to kill myself, because it officially means there is no hope for me."

Sophie wasn't listening; she had picked up Christina's drink and downed that too.

"Hey!" Christina had protested.

"I'll get you another, but I've got to go over and talk to him. You know all that stuff that happened in Cornwall?" Christina had looked blank. Sophie had shaken her head in irritation. "Well, a lot of stuff happened there, stuff I can't seem to move on from or stop thinking about night after night after...And, anyway, I don't know why I didn't think about it before. Jake is the solution, Jake will take my mind off things, he's totally into me, or at least he was. And if he still is, then I'm going to be totally into him. You said it-he's practically perfect."

Luckily, Sophie hadn't seen the expression on Christina's face as she headed determinedly toward the bar, where Jake was standing. If she had, the look of horror and disbelief might have thrown her off a little.

Sophie had planned to approach Jake with the kind of cool sophistication she knew he was attracted to. Unfortunately, she had tripped a little when she was only a step or two from him and ended up stumbling into his chest.

"Oh," she had said, righting herself. "It's these new shoes. Impossible to walk in." She had glanced down to see which of the ten or so pairs she had bought since she'd been back she had put on. Annoyingly, the ones she had randomly selected that morning didn't go at all with what she was wearing.

"Sophie." Jake had smiled at her, his voice carefully neutral. "Good to see you! I heard your news today, and when I went by the office they said you'd be here. I wanted to buy you a drink so you'd know I'm cool about everything and very happy for you, although I guess I'll be doing most of my business with Cal now-you'll be far too important to deal with me."

"I'll always have time for you, Jake," Sophie had said, tossing her hair as coquettishly as she knew how.

Cal had looked from Sophie to Jake. "Good to see you, Jake. I'm off now," he had told Sophie. "Remember what I said."

"What did you say?" Sophie had asked him.

"That you need to get laid ASAP," Cal had replied, and then he had gone.

Sophie had covered her face with her hands, and Jake had gently removed them and smiled at her, still holding her wrists.

"First rule of management, never let your staff see you're embarrassed."

"Oh, I've blown that one about two hundred times already, and I don't even start my new job until next week." Sophie had laughed and noticed Jake had held her for a moment or two longer before he let go. Perhaps it wasn't too late after all.

"I sort of didn't expect you to come back." Jake had handed her the glass of wine he'd ordered for her.

"Didn't you?" Sophie had asked him with real curiosity. "Why?"

"It looked to me like something was going on there. I didn't think you'd be able to leave them. Any of them."

Sophie had sipped her drink and fought the rising tide of sadness that swelled in her chest.

"I missed you, actually," she had said, looking up at Jake. He had watched her for a moment as if he were trying to read her mind, and in response she had tried to banish any thoughts of Louis that might have been lurking in her eyes. She knew what she was doing was wrong, but maybe Cal was right, maybe she did need to get laid. If she had another man in her bed, a man who cared for her and wanted her, then perhaps she'd be able to get the persistent memory of the last one out of her head for good.

"That's not why you came back," Jake had said with a sad, wry smile.

"I'm sorry about the way I acted the last time I saw you, Jake. Throwing myself at you like that. You were right to say what you did, I was confused. I needed to go to Cornwall. But once I was there, I realized how wrong it all was for me. How complicated."

"Just because something is complicated doesn't make it wrong," Jake had said casually. "It's worth pursuing something that will make you truly happy, even if it's difficult getting there."

Sophie had resisted the urge to scowl. Jake wasn't being nearly as helpful as she had hoped he would be.

She had supposed she'd just have to seduce him, and as she had no idea how to go about it, she had decided to be as direct and as blunt as possible.

"Jake, I want you," she had said, somehow holding his gaze and her nerve at the same time. "Sexually."

Jake had had to raise his hand to his mouth to cover his smile, and Sophie had felt her skin instantly blotch. "I'm sorry," he'd said, and his smile was gone in an instant, replaced by that compelling blue gaze.

Finally, Sophie had thought, he was taking her seriously.

"Why?" Jake had asked her.

"Why!" Sophie had raised her voice, and a few people looked across at her. "What do you mean, why?" She had dropped her voice to a whisper. "Isn't it enough that I do?"