and make love to me all night.’

‘That’s quite nice,’ said Campbell in a ragged voice. ‘Ask me again.’

He was pushing aside her jacket, tugging up her silk camisole, and Tilly shuddered and writhed with pleasure as his hands closed on her bare skin.

‘Please,’ she gasped again. ‘You don’t need to pretend anything. It’s not about love. It’s not about forever. It’s just you and me and one night together. Make love to me, please.’

‘Well, since you asked so nicely…’

Somehow they got out of the van, but they couldn’t bear to let go of each other, couldn’t bear to stop kissing. For long, mindless minutes, Campbell pressed her against the driver’s door and Tilly didn’t care that the handle was digging into her hip, cared only that she could hold him and touch him and kiss him back.

At last they made it to the front door. There was a short delay while Tilly fumbled for keys, distracted by Campbell kissing her shoulder and the nape of her neck, as his hot, hungry hands explored beneath her open jacket. Her fingers shook as she inserted the key impatiently and they practically fell through the door, still kissing.

Unheeded, Tilly’s bag fell to the floor, closely followed by the jacket Campbell was peeling from her shoulders. He pushed her back against the door and she arched beneath his touch, gasping his name as she clutched her fingers in his hair, incoherent with desire.

‘What happens in your fantasy now?’ Tilly asked shakily when he raised his head at last, and Campbell took her by the hand and tugged her towards her bedroom.

‘I’ll show you.’

Tilly mumbled and brushed at something on her face before rolling over to bury her face in a pillow.

‘Wake up, Jenkins. It’s breakfast time.’ Campbell’s voice, warm and threaded with laughter, slowly penetrated her sleep and she stirred, opening sleep-clouded eyes to find him sitting on the edge of the bed, tickling her cheek with a finger.

He smiled at her. ‘I thought I’d make your fantasy come true.’

Tilly pulled herself blearily up on to the pillows. She felt boneless with pleasure still, as if she had been drenched in honeyed delight, and the colour rose in her cheeks as the memories of the night before flooded back.

‘I think you’ve already done that,’ she said, and he smiled.

‘This is a different fantasy. You told me all about it on Ben Nuarrh. Don’t you remember? You wanted to wake up with coffee and croissants.’

Brought by a gorgeous lover. Tilly did remember, and the fact that he did, too, made her heart turn over.

‘Look,’ said Campbell as he laid the tray on the bed. ‘The sun’s even shining.’

There was a ridiculous lump in her throat. Tilly swallowed. ‘So it is.’ Leaning forward, she made a big deal of breathing in the smell of coffee. ‘Mmm,’ she murmured appreciatively and unfolded a tea towel to find the promised croissants. They were even warm.

She lifted her eyes to his green ones and wondered how she could ever have thought of them as cold.

‘Where did you find these?’

‘At the shop on the corner. You were dead to the world so I thought it would be worth a trip.’ He nodded down at the tray. ‘I realise the orange juice wasn’t specified in your fantasy. That’s my own innovation.’

Tilly was overwhelmed. Nobody had ever done anything like this for her before.

Last night, he had made her feel beautiful and desirable; this morning, instead of being desperate to leave, as she had half expected, he had gone to all this trouble to make her a special breakfast. He had remembered something she had once said and acted on it to make her feel special.

He made her feel loved.

If you were talking fantasies, this one was hard to beat.

‘Hey, stop that!’ she said, deciding that her only option was to make a joke of it. It was that or cry. ‘It’s not fair to start being thoughtful and perfect now you’re about to go!’

‘You could come with me.’

‘What, to the States?’ she asked, keeping the smile fixed on her face and assuming that he was joking as well.

‘Why not?’

Her smile faded as they looked at each other. He couldn’t mean it.

Tilly didn’t want to think that making love had been a mistake, but she was afraid that it probably had been. Now she was going to have to live with the memory of the heart-stopping rapture, of the consuming pleasure and the heady delight of touching and being touched, of the fierceness of the passion they had discovered together. Night after night, she would have to lie in this bed and remember and know that she would never feel that again. She would never hold him again, never kiss him again.

She would have to say goodbye and it would hurt.

She was a fool, in fact, but Tilly couldn’t regret it. Just one night, they had agreed, and what a night it had been.

And now Campbell was suggesting-seriously?-that she wouldn’t need to say goodbye after all.

There was no point in denying that she was tempted, but deep down Tilly knew this was just another fantasy. Maybe fantasies could come true for a night, even for a morning, but how could they endure day after day, in the harsh realities of life?

She couldn’t go to the States with Campbell. Her business was here, her friends were here. And what would he do with her over there? He was a high-powered businessman, she was a homely cake-maker. Their lives would barely coincide. Tilly had seen what different aspirations had done to her parents’ marriage.

No, she had ignored her sensible side long enough. This was no time to believe in fantasies. It could never work. Campbell was driven by the need to win. His priorities were different, his life was different.

And he had an ex-wife to get out of his system.

Tilly had forgotten Lisa for a while, but now she remembered the way Campbell had talked about her. He might not love Lisa any more, but there was definitely some unresolved business there, and Tilly had no intention of being a distraction until he found out what he really wanted. She had been that for Olivier, and she wasn’t doing it again.

‘I don’t think that would work,’ she told Campbell, choosing her words carefully.

‘Because…?’

‘Because we’re too different. Last night was wonderful, but perhaps it was wonderful because it was just one night,’ she tried to explain. ‘We both got what we needed without having to think about the consequences.’

Campbell eyed her thoughtfully. ‘Did we? What did you get?’

‘I got Olivier out of my system,’ she told him, lifting her chin slightly. It was the truth, but not the whole truth, as they said. ‘My friends have had this theory that I’d never get over him properly until I had a fling with someone to restore my confidence. And I’ve done that now,’ she finished.

There was a tiny pause. ‘I’m glad I was able to help,’ said Campbell with a touch of acid.

‘You know what I mean,’ said Tilly. ‘I mean, come on, Campbell, you know I’m right. You’re leaving the country, we’ve got completely different lives. How could it ever be more than a night?’

All right, maybe she was right, thought Campbell. The trouble was that it didn’t feel right. It felt all wrong.

But what could he do? He could hardly force her to go with him. He wasn’t sure where the idea that she could go to the States with him had come from. The truth was that he had been almost as surprised by his suggestion as Tilly had been. The words seemed to have come from nowhere, and yet once they were out, they made perfect sense and Campbell had been taken aback by how badly he’d wanted Tilly to agree, how disappointed he had been when she’d said no.

Of course she was right. There was no way it could work. It was madness to even think about it. He would leave here and go to his new life in the States, and he would be grateful then that she had saved them both a lot of awkwardness by rejecting his impulsive offer.

‘OK,’ he admitted, ‘you’re right. It was just a night, but it was a great one.’

Smiling, Tilly relaxed back against the pillows. ‘Yes, it was,’ she said softly, ‘and now you’ve brought breakfast, it’s a wonderful morning.’

‘Then let’s make the most of it,’ said Campbell, leaning across the tray to kiss her. ‘It’s not over yet.’

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