‘In that case you’ll have to pull out all the stops. You always look smart, but on Friday you’ve got to look stunning. Take tomorrow off and buy a special dress if you have to, but wear something that will knock Jonathan’s socks off.’

‘He’ll be too busy with Stephen Hodge to notice me,’ I protested, but Phin refused to listen to any objections.

‘If you get the right dress he’ll notice you, all right,’ he said. ‘Besides, I have a cunning plan up my sleeve to relax you.’

‘What sort of plan?’ I asked suspiciously. I had tried to loosen up whenever we’d been out together, but it was almost impossible when every cell in my body jolted if Phin so much as grazed me with his touch.

‘I’ll explain on Friday,’ he said. ‘The launch is at seven, isn’t it? We might as well go straight from here.’

Which is how I ended up changing in the directors’ bathroom that Friday evening. I’d brought my dress in on a hanger, and carried shoes and make-up in a separate bag.

I had put the need to look stunning to Anne, who had borne me off late-night shopping the night before, and bullied me into buying the most expensive dress I’d ever owned. Even though I felt faintly sick whenever I thought about my credit card bill, I couldn’t regret it. It was so beautiful.

I don’t really know how to begin to describe it. It was red, but not that hard pillarbox red that’s so hard to wear. This was a softer, deeper, warmer red-a simple sleeveless sheath, with a layer of chiffon that floated and swirled as I walked. I wasn’t used to such a plunging neckline, and with bare shoulders and a bare back I felt a lot more exposed than usual, but it was the kind of dress you couldn’t help but feel good in.

I’d painted my toenails a lovely deep red-Ruby, Ruby-to match my fingers, and slipped my feet into beautiful jewelled sandals. My hair was swept up into a clip, and I thought it looked elegant like that, but I hesitated as I studied my reflection, remembering Phin’s librarian comment. On an impulse I pulled the clip out and shook my hair free, and then I walked back into the office before I could change my mind.

Phin was there, adjusting his bow tie, but his fingers froze when he saw me. There was a moment of stunned silence. ‘Dear God,’ he said blankly.

My confidence promptly evaporated. ‘What’s wrong with it?’ I asked, looking down at my lovely dress. I’d been so sure he would like it.

‘Nothing’s wrong.’ Phin cleared his throat. ‘Nothing at all. You look…incredible.’

He sounded a bit odd, I thought, but he had said I looked incredible. ‘Shall I order a taxi?’ I asked after a moment.

‘No, it’s all sorted,’ he said, still distracted. ‘A car’s waiting downstairs.’

‘Oh. Well, shall we go, then?’

Phin seemed to pull himself together. ‘Not quite yet, CP,’ he said, making a good recovery. ‘We need to put my cunning plan into action first.’

‘CP?’ I echoed blankly.

‘Cream…’ He waited expectantly for me to supply the rest.

Puff, in fact. I sighed.

‘Oh, for heaven’s sake,’ I said crossly. ‘Will you stop with the silly names? Now, what is this plan of yours?’

‘It’s really quite simple,’ said Phin, coming towards me. ‘I’m going to kiss you.’

CHAPTER EIGHT

‘KISS me?’ The world titled disconcertingly beneath my feet, and it took me a moment to realise that the air was leaking out of my lungs. I drew in a hissing breath, glad of the steadying effect of the oxygen. We had been through this before, I remembered. ‘What kind of plan is that?’

‘A good one,’ said Phin.

‘We agreed that you would only kiss me again if it was necessary,’ I reminded him, backing away. My voice was embarrassingly croaky, but under the circumstances-i.e. pounding heart, racing pulse, entrails squeezed with nerves or, more worryingly, anticipation-I didn’t think I did too badly.

‘I think it is necessary,’ he said.

I had ended up against the desk, the wood digging into the back of my thighs. ‘There’s no one else here,’ I pointed out bravely. ‘How can it be necessary?’

Phin kept coming until he was right in front of me. ‘That’s the whole point,’ he said.

‘I’ve been thinking about it. If we kiss before we go out every time you’ll get used to it. It’ll just seem part of the evening, like putting on your lipstick-although you might think about doing that after we kiss next time. You’ll look much more relaxed after a kiss,’ he went on. ‘Remember how well it worked before the Glitz interview?’

‘We’re not kissing like that again!’ My eyes went involuntarily to the sofas on the other side of the room. If we ended up on one of those we’d never get to the party.

‘Maybe not quite like that,’ Phin agreed. A smile hovered around his mouth. The mouth I was doing my level best not to look at. ‘Not that it wasn’t very nice, but what we want now is for you to feel more comfortable. Once kissing me feels normal, you’ll stop feeling so tense whenever I touch you.’

‘It’s not going to feel normal tonight.’

‘No, but I can tell you that if you go to the party in that dress, looking thoroughly kissed, it won’t just be Jonathan I’ll be fighting off with a stick,’ Phin promised.

Jonathan. The thought of him steadied me. Jonathan was the reason I was wearing this dress…wasn’t he?

‘Go on, admit it,’ said Phin. ‘It’s a good plan, isn’t it?’

I eyed him dubiously. I couldn’t help remembering the last time we had kissed. I had got carried away then, and I didn’t want that to happen again. On the other hand, I didn’t want to admit to Phin that I was nervous about losing control. Somehow I had to pretend that it wasn’t that big a deal.

‘It might work,’ I conceded, and he grinned.

‘Come along, then-pucker up, cream puff,’ he said. ‘The sooner we get it over with, the sooner we can get to the party.’

‘Oh, very well.’ I gave in. ‘If you really think it’ll help.’

Maybe it would help, I told myself. Instead of constantly wondering what it would be like to touch him again, I would know.

So I stood very still and lifted my face for Phin’s kiss, pursing my lips and closing my eyes.

And willing myself not to respond.

Nothing happened at first, and, feeling foolish, I opened my eyes again in time to see him brush my hair gently back over my shoulders. Then very slowly, almost thoughtfully, he slid his hands up the sides of my throat to cup my face. His eyes never left mine, and I felt as if I were trapped in their blueness. My heart was slamming against my ribs.

My mouth felt dry, and I had moistened my lips before I realised what an inviting gesture it was.

Phin smiled. We were so close I could see every eyelash, every one of the tiny creases in his lips, the precise depth of the dent at the corner of his mouth, and I felt dizzy with the nearness of him.

By the time he lowered his head and touched his mouth to mine my blood was thumping with anticipation, and I couldn’t help the tiny gasp of relief that parted my lips beneath his.

I willed myself to stay still and unresponsive. All I had to do was stand there for a few seconds and it would be over. How difficult could it be?

You try it. That’s all I can say. Try not responding when a man with warm, strong hands twines his fingers in your hair and pulls you closer. When a man with warm, sure lips explores your mouth tantalisingly gently at first, then more insistently. When he smells wonderful and tastes better.

When every kiss pulls at a thread inside you, unravelling you faster and faster, until the world rocks and your bones melt and the only way to stay upright is to clutch at him and kiss him back.

‘That’s better,’ murmured Phin when he lifted his head at last.

I was flushed and trembling, but I was glad to see that his breathing wasn’t quite steady either.

‘There-it wasn’t so bad, was it?’ he added, sliding his hands reluctantly from my hair.

‘It was fine,’ I managed, hoping my legs were going to hold me up without him to hang on to. I was very glad there was a car waiting downstairs. It was going to take all I had to get to the lift, and I was in no shape to trek to the tube-even if my shoes had been up to it.

For reasons best known to the television company, the launch party for Hodge Hits was being held in the Orangery at Kew Gardens. I’d never been before, and it looked so beautiful with that row of high arched windows that I actually forgot my throbbing lips and crackling pulse as I looked around me.

The room was already crowded, but I caught a glimpse of Stephen Hodge, surrounded by groupies as always, wearing his trademark scowl. He had long hair that always looked as if it could do with a good wash, and he was very thin. There’s something unnatural about a thin chef, don’t you think? I suspected that Stephen Hodge never ate his own food and, having seen some of his more innovative recipes, I didn’t blame him.

‘Now, be nice,’ said Phin, seeing my lip curl.

‘That’s good, coming from you,’ I countered. ‘Are you sure you’ve got the right speech with you?’

He’d tried a scurrilous version on me earlier, which had been very funny but which was unlikely to go down well with either Hodge or Jonathan, who had been instrumental in setting up the sponsorship. I was hoping that he had a suitably bland alternative in his pocket somewhere, but with Phin you never knew.

‘Don’t worry, I’ve got the toadying version right here,’ he said, patting his jacket. ‘Besides, you’re not in PA mode tonight. You’re my incredibly sexy girlfriend and don’t you forget it. Talking of which-’ he nudged me ‘-look who’s heading our way. Or rather don’t look. You’re supposed to be absorbed in me.’