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began greedily drinking her water like a bottle-fed calf. ‘You’re doing the marathon in two months, for heaven’s sake. You’re hardly going to keep to your training schedule if you have to keep waiting for me to catch up. Honestly, I’m fine. You go on.’
    Kelly looked unconvinced. ‘But how will you get back?’
    ‘I won’t. I won’t move from here. You can collect me on your way back.’ She sighed feebly. ‘I might just have recovered by then.’
    ‘I’m not sure.’
    ‘Please . . . just go?’ Cassie pleaded, using her arms to lift her legs on to the bench and then turning so that she could lie out flat. ‘I’ll be fine . . . Oh God, that feels good!’
    ‘Tch! First morning in Manhattan and you’re already sleeping on a bench in Central Park.’
    ‘Just keeping it real,’ Cassie said, closing her eyes and dropping an arm languidly across her face. The sun was bright already in the cloudless sky, although the September air was cool and some of the leaves had just started to turn, the incipient yellow tint spreading through the tree canopies like a fever.
    ‘Well, I’ll be back for you. Don’t move from here,’ Kelly said, her voice beginning to fade as she jogged back to Raoul.
    ‘Wouldn’t dream of it,’ Cassie mumbled, mainly to herself. Her heart was still galloping like a Grand National winner, and she could already feel the telltale heaviness in her muscles. Tomorrow was going to suck.
    All around her, she could hear New York waking up. The drone of traffic on the periphery of the park was becoming as constant as waves, and stalls selling bagels, hot dogs and pretzels were setting up. The smell of frying onions drifted over and Cassie sniffed like a Bisto kid, feeling her own hunger begin to awaken, though it would do her no good to get an appetite going – Kelly had decreed she should go without carbs whilst she was here and cut back on red meat. For someone who’d never dieted in her life and was used to eating what she liked whenever she was hungry (which admittedly wasn’t usually between meals), the very idea of restriction and prescription tasted bitter.
    The Japanese food had been delicious last night – Kelly had laughingly found some cutlery for her when Cassie had ably demonstrated her tae kwan do skills with the chopsticks – but that was because it was freshly made with high-quality ingredients. She’d have said the same of spaghetti aglio e olio, or roast beef with Yorkshire puddings and hot horseradish sauce. Just buy quality, cook simply, eat in moderation. That had always been her mantra.
    Then again, she thought, as her body wheezed and ached after the few paltry minutes of exercise, it wasn’t as if she was a paragon of physical beauty. Sure, she was slim, but she had no muscles, and what she did have was soft and untoned. She’d nearly fallen over when Kelly had padded round the apartment in her underwear, showing a stomach that was so defined Cassie would have been able to do brass rubbings on it. Absently, Cassie prodded her own tummy. It yielded without resistance. It wasn’t fat, just spongy. Neglected. Unloved. Unworked.
    With a burst of resolve, she swung her legs round off the bench – and straight into a runner (he was going way too fast to be called a jogger). It was like sticking a spike into a spinning wheel – there was an almighty clatter as he flew through the air, landing badly on a bin before slumping to the ground.
    ‘Oh my God!!’ Cassie cried, running over to him. The man was lying face down, his chest pushed away from the ground slightly in a half push-up as he tried to catch his breath. There was an arrow of sweat between his shoulder blades and his dark blond hair was damp. She could see his knees were bleeding.
    Cassie crouched down. ‘Oh-my-God-I’m-so-sorry,’ she gabbled. ‘I didn’t see you coming.’
    ‘No shit, Sherlock,’ he muttered, rolling himself over into a sitting position and pulling up his shirt. Cassie rocked