Mills & Boon Christmas Delights Collection. Rebecca Winters

Mrs B. I’m really in no hurry to settle down with anyone.’

      She reached out and patted my hand. ‘I expect you know what’s best for you. I’m probably just a little old-fashioned.’

      This coming from a woman who had just handed me a bag with two nine-inch vibrators, one of which claimed ‘lifelike properties’, a pair of handcuffs (and I’m not talking the gentle fluffy kind), a butt plug, a flogger and a spanking paddle (her favourite item, apparently). Honestly, I really could have done without the itemisation but my lovely, and now super organised, client had insisted. I made a non-committal noise.

      ‘I’m sure once you meet the right man, you’ll feel differently.’

      I smiled and changed the subject. ‘I’d best be off then.’

      Mrs B followed me to the door. ‘Have a lovely Christmas, my dear. Are you spending it with family?’

      ‘Oh, just having a quiet one this year.’ I trotted out my usual response to this enquiry. ‘I’ll contact you in the first few weeks of January and you can decide about your…items.’

      ‘Lovely. Thank you dear. Bye bye now.’

      ‘Bye Mrs B.’

      I set off towards the nearest station, acutely aware of my luggage. Who knew a shopping bag full of sex toys could weigh so much? As I approached the entrance to the station, my phone began to ring and I pulled it out of my bag, being careful not to dislodge anything else. This time I checked the screen before answering.

      ‘Hi Bernice. How’d it go?’

      ‘Brilliant! I’m so excited. And the client is so excited. Everyone’s excited! I think it’s going to be great. And she said if it goes well, she has a whole bunch of friends to recommend to us.’

      ‘Excellent!’

      ‘How was Mrs B?’

      ‘Erm…OK. Apart from the fact that she gave me a big bag full of sex toys to keep for storage whilst she decides if she needs them any more.’

      I thought for a moment my phone had lost signal and pulled it away to check. It was still showing connected. Then I heard Bernice taking short gasps as she tried to stop laughing.

      ‘I don’t believe you!’ she said eventually.

      ‘Oh, believe me.’

      ‘But she looks like one of the nanas that knit Shredded Wheat! What would she know about sex toys?’

      ‘Apparently she’s quite the expert! And now I know way more than I ever wanted to as she insisted on telling me the pros and cons of every item in the bag.’

      ‘Wow! I never would have thought it!’

      ‘Me neither. I thought I was past being shocked and it’s hardly the first time I’ve pulled a vibrator out of a drawer.’ A man walking in front of me did a double take. ‘It’s just that when you look at her…’

      ‘No, I know! I kind of fancied her as a surrogate gran but you’ve shattered all my illusions now.’

      ‘Sorry about that.’

      ‘Not your fault. Are you on your way back in now?’

      ‘No, I’m heading over to Michael O’Farrell. He called and asked if I could come over to help him wrangle the kitchen. It sounds like he’s started and got a bit overwhelmed.’

      ‘Not unusual.’

      ‘No.’

      ‘OK. Give him a snog whilst you’re at it.’

      ‘So not going to happen.’

      ‘Shame.’

      ‘Hardly.’

      ‘Talk to you later.’

      ‘Bye!’

      ***

      ‘Thanks for this. I know it wasn’t one of the scheduled appointments but I wasn’t quite sure what to do.’ Michael took my coat and hung it on one of the hooks. I noticed several of his were alongside instead on being chucked on the console table or floor, as they usually were.

      ‘It’s all right. What’s the problem?’

      ‘Well, I’ve been watching you and you make it seem so easy, so I thought I’d have a go at the kitchen. You know, how hard could it be?’ I tilted my head back to meet his eyes. ‘Turns out it’s harder than I thought.’

      ‘I suppose I’d better take a look then.’

      Michael stood aside and I walked into the kitchen. Or at least as far in as I could get, which wasn’t very far at all.

      ‘I see.’

      ‘It’s bad, isn’t it?’ His gravel edged, melodic voice was close behind me.

      ‘No. It’s…I’ve definitely seen worse.’

      He laughed. ‘Things must be improving between us, because you wouldn’t have cared about being diplomatic before.’

      I turned, finding him closer than I thought but unable to take a step back because of all the crap on the kitchen floor. He caught my arm as I wobbled momentarily.

      ‘I…’

      I swallowed as the scent of his aftershave mixed with soap teased my senses. He let his hand slide gently down my arm until it finally just lay wrapped loosely around my wrist. And, disturbingly, that felt insanely good.

      ‘You all right? You look a bit flushed.’

       Bloody Mrs B.

      I nodded several times. ‘Absolutely. Cold out there, hot in here.’

      ‘It is pretty warm in here, no doubt about that.’

      I kicked something out of the way and casually took a step back. Michael didn’t move, but his hand dropped away from my wrist.

      ‘I’m always diplomatic.’

      ‘Calling me an arse was diplomatic? Remind me not to send you to the Middle East to negotiate peace talks any time soon.’

      ‘Oh ha ha! Are you going to bring that up every time we disagree?’

      ‘I haven’t decided yet.’

      I rolled my eyes at him. ‘Fine. You want the truth?’

      ‘Always,’ he said, looking at me, that intense gaze doing its thing again.

      ‘Right,’ I said, turning back to the kitchen and away from his entrancing eyes. ‘Congratulations, you have succeeded in making it twice as bad.’

      ‘That sounds more like it.’

      I looked back at him. ‘I wouldn’t say that to anyone but you, you know that, don’t you? Tact is my middle name.’

      ‘I’m honoured to be special then.’

      I shook my head. ‘Oh, you’re special all right.’

      ‘Aww, I’m so glad you think so.’

      ‘Oh for goodness’ sake! Stop arsing about and help me find the kettle. I need a cup of tea before tackling this.’ I dropped my bag outside the door and began trying to pick my way between the detritus on the floor.

       Chapter Ten

      We were knee-deep in kitchen utensils and Michael’s face had taken on a bewildered look.

      ‘I don’t even know what this is. It looks like something liberated from a medieval torture chamber.’

      I glanced up. He was peering at a scissor-like contraption with a half dome on each end. His fingers