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answered. “Consider it a pardon.”
    “You’re so hard to walk away from … I’ll call you,” he groaned into her hair with a smile. “I have to get back to my hotel now. I have obligations to my family. Until tomorrow.” He grinned, probably seeing the stars of recovery in her eyes.
    Ailsa felt her head spin. She turned and walked away briskly towards the house, heat searing between her legs from his touch. Not wanting to lose the upper hand she called back, “I’ll still have to check my jam-packed hot-date encrusted calendar. Before you run away with the idea it’s a dead cert.”
    She’d walked with purpose. Felt Nick’s gaze follow her and it felt great. She then heard the low chocolate velvet of his laughter.
    Work it girl. You’re good. Make him want it.
    “Sweet dreams. Mine will be filled with thoughts of you,” he called.
    Somehow she figured she’d played her sister’s instructions as she’d been meant to. And even when she went through the French navy blue painted front door of the house she shared with Lisa she could still feel the tingles from Nick’s kiss.
    She was also wondering how she’d really have coped if he’d said yes and followed her inside?
    Ailsa closed the door. She could hear Lisa and Andy partying in the living room. She tried to regulate her breathing post kissing with Nick and stem the smile he’d caused. He turned her knees to jelly; made her bones liquefy. And too ably he succeeded at persuasion alchemy that turned her ethics into mush.
    Her New Year Plan for a new improved strident Ailsa had begun. And just because it scared her so silly she couldn’t walk straight w hat the heck did that matter anyway?
    ***
    A party. A lot to drink. The passenger seat of Nick’s car. Memories from her last days in London came back to Ailsa in a sickly flood. Even in her darkened bedroom Ailsa found her complexion heating remembering.
    Lying alone and still wide awake at past two a.m. her face found no comfort on the smooth cotton pillow. Ailsa remembered the angsty feelings of being nineteen; so keen to impress the world but so in awe of her peers.
    So keen to be noticed by Nick Palmer. Cringe; cue disaster.
    Back then she couldn’t wait to break free from her Scottish roots and head to the bright lights of London to study; she’d needed an escape. Wasn’t London’s West End the place for any actor looking for an apprenticeship treading the boards?
    When her Recruitment Consultant cousin promised her temping at a luxury hotel part time to boost her student funds she jumped at it. From day one the job’s allure paled next to her boss. It proved to be a year of longing, hoping, wishing.
    And the company Christmas Party felt like her one chance to shine in front of Nick. She’d bought contact lenses. She’d experimented with bronzer. She’d practiced on the high heeled eye popper shoes. She was as ready as she could be.
    So she’d sipped spritzer cocktails, watched from afar. Admired the easy way he chatted. A few attempts at conversation one to one were amiable enough but invariably someone joined them and upset the mix.
    She was buoyed up beyond belief when they finally danced but halfway through they were interrupted by Delia from Accounts who’d made no secrets of her lust and was wearing a festive red satin body-conscious dress to prove it. With an eye-roll Nick let Ailsa go and proceeded to dance to Slade like he was enjoying it.
    Fast forward to her ride home by which time the spritzers worked their magic on her inhibitions.
    “Nick, you know I love working with you,” she’d mumbled the confession.
    By now she couldn’t see the pelican crossing they’d just passed (a hazy blur – why did she drink the hard stuff at all?)
    “But you want to act, that’s your dream. I figured the secretarial temping was just a stop gap?”
    “I like working for you even better than my course. I think it’s you that’s the attraction though.”
    Two London double decker buses,