Peony Place. Jules Wake

submerged, but it’s there. What if it isn’t worth it? What if the hours we put in aren’t worth the stress? What’s left?’

      For a moment we held each other’s gazes as if the other was some kind of lifeline, holding fast against the emptiness of the answer. One that neither of us really wanted to visit. What drove us? Was it fear or lack of courage? The moment of honesty shimmered between us and I felt as if we’d taken a step below the surface. We were more alike than we’d realised.

      ‘I don’t know,’ I admitted. ‘It scares me sometimes. Maybe that’s why I keep working so hard, to fill the void. Because without work, I’m not sure… I’m not sure what I’d have.’

      Or who I was? In the office I was the invincible go-getter, a role model, and the epitome of success. I avoided thinking about life outside of work and luckily there wasn’t too much of it because my job was all consuming.

      ‘Which is why there’s a lot to be said for job satisfaction,’ I said, feeling the need for firmer ground. For a moment I’d strayed into quicksand that had no place in my life. Those sorts of thoughts belonged to dead-of-night insomniac moments, when a person questioned life, the universe, and everything, not just the unremitting pressure of their job. Pressure came with the territory. ‘Not everyone has that. Imagine being in a job that you hate.’

      ‘Can’t.’ He gave a mock shudder which immediately lifted the shadow that had touched our conversation. ‘I guess we are both lucky in that way. I love my job.’

      ‘Me too. Although it’s been a busy week and I’m absolutely knackered.’ I deliberately lightened my tone, signalling that we’d left that line of philosophical enquiry behind but I was aware – and so, I could tell from his steady regard, was he – of that moment of connection between us.

      ‘Do you always get the early train?’ Ash didn’t comment on my uncharacteristic admission of weakness for which I was fervently grateful. Like me, he probably despised weakness. ‘How come I’ve never seen you before?’

      ‘Because you weren’t looking,’ I responded with a twisted, cool smile, feeling a little more myself.

      He gave me an equally cool look and we were back to being sparring partners again. ‘I’d have noticed you… the attitude at the very least. You walk like a power house.’

      ‘That sounds… not attractive.’ But I rather liked it all the same. Anything else might have been a cliché.

      ‘With purpose, determination. Like you know exactly where you’re going and why. In my book, that’s very attractive.’

      He said it without the flirtatious smirk and that made the compliment all the sweeter.

      ‘I like a woman who knows herself.’

      ‘That’s good then. A lot of men are intimidated by that.’

      ‘You’ve just had poor taste in men.’

      ‘Did I say they were relationships?’

      ‘You didn’t need to.’

      ‘Arrogant, much?’

      ‘Yeah. I reckon I’ve earned it. And so have you.’

      ‘Arrogant is all right for a man. Women tend to get called big headed, up herself, too big for her boots.’

      Ash shrugged. ‘There aren’t many women where I work. And sadly, I agree. They don’t get treated equally, despite all the HR policies that say otherwise.’

      ‘Which is why I have to work five times as hard to prove I’m “suitable for partnership”. Hence where we came in. Is it worth it?’

      ‘I guess it will be when you make partner. Is it likely?’

      ‘I bloody hope so. I feel like I’m jumping through enough flaming hoops. That morning… my presentation was supposed to nail it but they want me to complete another project, naturally with impossible deadlines, which of course I will deliver because I always do.’ I said it blithely, as if impossible deadlines and leaping over burning skyscrapers were all in a day’s work, but actually this latest project was giving me sleepless nights. This time the deadlines really were impossible but I’d never missed a deadline in my life and I wasn’t about to start now.

      After the meal we finished coffee, followed by flaming sambucas, which prolonged the evening. The sky was deepening to a purple hue when we came out of the restaurant and my nerves kicked in again.

      I had a first-date rule: don’t sleep with him.

      ‘I’ll walk you home.’ We’d already identified during dinner that we both lived on the south side of the park. It was a purely practical suggestion. I was not going to sleep with him. ‘Are you happy to walk through the park?’

      ‘Yes.’ Victoria Park was the jewel in the crown of Churchstone, a proper municipal park with regimented borders bursting with colour in every season, well-lit with traditional iron curlicued lamps that guarded the wide paths like benign sentries.

      I gave him a considering appraisal, enjoying taking another look at his body. My libido purred into life and I had to force my hands down by my sides and fight against the sudden urge to smooth my fingers over the jersey fabric covering his chest.

      ‘I bet you could fight off any marauding teenagers. I wouldn’t normally walk through there at this time of night.’

      ‘Don’t worry, I’ll protect you.’ To my surprise, he took my hand and squeezed it in an old-fashioned sort of gesture. And he didn’t let go. He laced his fingers between mine and we began to walk, hand in hand, towards the park.

      Those wretched butterflies had taken flight again and were getting in a right old tizzy at the touch of his warm skin on mine and the way our forearms bumped as we walked. When we entered the cool seclusion of the park, lit by the pools of lamplight, cedar scenting the air with its distinctive pencil-shaving smell, it felt as if there were magic in the air. An almost-full moon painted the trees silver and bathed the shrubs in a soft light. Conscious of our solitude, the slow pace of his footsteps in tandem with mine, and the warm caress of his hand, my mind went into overdrive. What if he invited me back for coffee? I didn’t want the evening to end. I’d want to say yes, but everyone knew what that meant. But if I said yes but didn’t plan to sleep with him, should I say so at the outset? Then there’d be no confusion. No expectation.

      ‘I haven’t decided yet whether I’m going to sleep with you,’ I mused out loud. We’d been honest with each other throughout dinner and I wanted it out there, up for discussion.

      ‘I wasn’t aware I’d asked you to,’ he responded, his voice deep and smooth.

      ‘No, I know, but we’re both thinking about it.’

      He’d stopped under one of the lamps, the light casting shadows over his face. Amusement danced in his eyes.

      ‘Does that mean you want to?’ he asked, with a lift of that eyebrow again. He was a cocky sod.

      ‘Yes, but I’m not sure if it’s a good idea or not.’ Thank goodness in the monochrome light, he couldn’t see my blush because, as forthright as I sounded, I was only being like this because I really did fancy him and since the first day I met him there’d been that innate, if somewhat combative, honesty between us. ‘I’m still trying to work out if you’re a… womaniser,’ I paused to select the word. I also wanted to know whether he habitually slept around. He was certainly good-looking and confident enough to. I bet he had plenty of offers.

      Over dinner there’d been no mention of previous relationships and I hadn’t wanted to probe. Was it because I didn’t want to be disappointed in him? Because I wanted to preserve the mystery about Ashwin Laghari? No one could deny he was gorgeous but he did seem to take it for granted. His arrogance was based on self-confidence and ability rather than vanity.

      ‘What