‘You do! I could kiss you!’
As they entered the school gate, Lisa whistled. ‘Save your kisses for Mark. He’s going to need them. Look at him go.’
Beatrice looked, and her mouth dropped open.
Mark, snow shovel in hand, was effortlessly clearing the path to the main entrance, his movements controlled and precise. He was coatless, and she could see the flex and bunch of the muscles in his shoulders and arms.
So could everyone else.
A surprising number of parents had turned up, and Beatrice noticed several of the female contingent watching him out of the corners of their eyes.
Mark seemed oblivious, as he concentrated on his path-clearing efforts. Beatrice, in turn, concentrated onhim, Lisa’s offer at the forefront of her mind. Trying to take desire out of the equation (which wasn’t easy when the object of that desire was right in front of her), Beatrice attempted to be objective, but all she could think about was the way he made her feel.
And she realised there wasn’t a decision to make – becauseshe’d already made it.
Mark tensed as Beatrice’s fingers stroked his chest, trailing through the fine hairs in slow circles. They were in her bed and she was curled against him, one leg over his thigh, his arm around her, and he was happier than he could ever remember being. For the first time in his life, he felt complete, his body satiated, his mind still, his heart full. So very, very full.
He didn’t want this moment to end, though he knew it must. The afternoon was slipping inexorably into evening, and she would soon need to fetch the children from Lisa’s.
With her hand still on his chest, her fingers continuing to stroke his skin, she said, ‘I forgot to ask how your meeting on Friday went.’
‘Not great,’ he confessed. ‘They want to turn Santa Paws into a series.’
She hesitated, her fingers ceasing their movement. ‘Isn’t that agoodthing?’
‘I’ve got to rewrite it, with the focus on one of the other characters. Poor Santa Paws is to take a back seat. They want to make him into a cuddly toy though, so there is that. And my publisher is talking about even more library visits and personal appearances. Apparently “my brand is robust enough to take it”. Anyone would think I’m JK Rowling or David Walliams,’ he huffed.
‘But that’s good, isn’t it?’
‘All I want to do is write my stories. I don’t want to do the bits that go with it. But the market for children’s books is tough, and my agent and publisher don’t want me to lose any momentum.’
‘Is that likely to happen?’
‘Maybe.’ Right now, he didn’t care if it did. All he could think about was Beatrice.
Her phone rang, making him jump, and she sat up. ‘I’d better get going. The girls will wonder where I am.’
Mark’s gaze travelled down her bare back, lingering at her waist, before settling on the curve of her hip. She was beautiful.
He watched her hunt for her phone, her hand delving into the pocket of the jeans lying discarded on the bedroom floor, and when she looked at the screen, her mouth tightened.
‘Hi,’ she said, answering the call.
Mark got dressed and tried not to listen, but it was impossible not to.
‘Fine, thanks… Yeah, a fair bit… No, it’s stopped now… Sorry they’re not here, they’re at Lisa’s. I’ll get them to phone you when they get home.’ She jammed the phone between her shoulder and her ear as she stepped into her jeans.
Mark looked away and pulled his shirt over his head. Was his fleece up here or downstairs? He couldn’t even remember taking it off.
Beatrice said, ‘Thursday at two o’clock… You will? Sadie will be delighted!’ She glanced over at Mark then turned away, lowering her voice. ‘I’ll let you tell her yourself. See you Thursday… Bye, Eric.’ Tossing the phone onto the bed, she said, ‘That was my ex.’
Mark bowed his head. ‘I guessed as much.’
‘He didn’t know whether he’d be able to make it to Sadie’s school play, but he can now.’
‘That’s good.’
‘Yeah, it is.’
