Page 52 of Book People

I had no idea that pretty Miss Jones, with her fluffy golden hair and her pretty little dresses, hides the most passionate of souls. She’s as fierce in bed as she is stubborn out of it, and I was right about what I’d thought the night before. Itwasa cataclysm and she wrecked me.

She’s changed me and I’m not sure what to do about it.

I should leave, slip out before she wakes up, but . . . I can’t bring myself to do so. That would be a coward’s way out and she deserves better than that, especially after last night.

So I lie there and watch her and, eventually, her golden lashes flutter and they open, her grey eyes meeting mine.

There’s no shock in her face, no surprise. She smiles slowly, like the sun coming up, as if finding me beside her is the best thing that’s ever happened to her.

My chest aches for reasons I can’t explain, yet despite that, I find myself smiling back. It feels like we’re sharing a wonderful secret.

‘Did you read the book I gave you?’ Her voice is soft and husky with sleep.

I turn on my side to face her. ‘Yes. I read it in one sitting. I stayed up until three a.m., thank you very much.’

Her eyes sparkle. ‘I knew you’d like it. I’d never have picked you for a science fiction reader, though.’

It feels easy to talk to her like this, without the relentless tension of physical chemistry between us. Though the chemistry hasn’t gone. I can still feel it crackling in the air. It doesn’t bother me now, though, not like it did before. Not when every muscle in my body is relaxed and I feel sated and lazy with the after-effects of magnificent sex. Not when I can reach out and pull her close if it gets too much.

‘I’ve always read it. Since I was a kid.’

‘Don’t tell me, you were a space geek.’

I don’t deny it. ‘I also liked the ideas, and the escapism factor.’

‘So, what was your favourite book as a kid?’

‘The Hobbit,’ I say, without hesitation. ‘AndThe Lord of the Rings.’

‘Oh my God, you were anLOTRnerd too.’ She looks delighted, her face glowing, and I feel insufferably smug for having so delighted her.

‘Guilty,’ I say. ‘What about you? What was your favourite childhood read?’

‘I Capture the Castle. Dodie Smith.’

I haven’t read it, but I know the title. ‘About the girl who lives in the castle with her disaster of a family?’

‘That’s the one.’

‘That’s an old book.’

‘I know.’ The sparkle in her eyes fades. ‘It was my mother’s favourite.’

Her mother, whom she lost two years ago. I know how that feels.

I reach out and tuck a curl behind her ear, touching her gently. ‘You were close?’

‘Yeah. She brought me up on her own. We had no money, so she used to take me to the library for some free entertainment. Then there was that one birthday where she took me into a bookshop and told me I could choose any book I wanted.’

I can see how much that meant to her. ‘What book did you choose?’

‘I can’t remember the title now. But I was a little girl, so it had fairies in it.’

I smile, thinking of her as that little girl, walking wide-eyed into a bookshop. ‘Is that where your dream of being a bookshop owner came from?’

She nods. ‘We used to live next door to one when I was ten. Mum was out a lot, working, and she knew the bookseller and would ask her to keep an eye on me. She never minded. She’d let me sit there for hours, reading.’

Another feeling I know all too well, that escape from reality into another one. A better one.

---