A Stranger's Kiss

was orphaned as a baby. She smiled at the memory of that life. She had been lucky she knew. They had cared for her as if she had been their daughter and she had always thought of Nigel as a nothing more than a big brother until he went away to college to study design.
    She had missed him so much more than she had expected. Other girls seemed to quarrel endlessly with their brothers, but Nigel had always been there for her, protecting her, the very best friend she had ever had. When he asked her to marry him it had seemed so obvious, so right.
    She sighed. There had been none of the searing, blazing passion that Adam generated by his very presence, by the sound of his voice on the telephone. Nigel hadn’t turned her bones to jelly, her blood to fire. It had been a comfortable, easy relationship. They would have been happy, given the chance. But a small doubt niggled at the back of her mind. If she had met someone like Adam Blackmore, would it have been enough? Perhaps that’s what Jane’s marriage had been like. Comfortable. Until Adam Blackmore settled like a thorn under her skin.
    The afternoon seemed to drag interminably. Despite work left on her desk, as soon as the clock turned five-thirty Tara pulled on her coat.
    ‘What’s the hurry?’ Beth asked, surprised.
    ‘I’ve had enough. I need a hot bath, a bowl of spaghetti and a very large bar of chocolate. In no particular order.’
    Beth looked sympathetic. ‘I recognise the symptoms. Go and wallow. You’ll feel so guilty tomorrow that you won’t have to time to worry about the heartache.’
    Tara was going to deny it, but it would be pointless. Beth was an incurable romantic, falling in and out of love at the drop of a hat.
    ‘Is it like this for long?’ she asked.
    ‘It varies, sweetheart. What was it like when Nigel died?’
    Tara tried to remember. ‘It wasn’t like this, Beth. I grieved for Nigel. I loved him. I’d loved him all my life.’ She shook her head. ‘But it wasn’t like this.’
    Beth shook her head. ‘Maybe you should go away for a few days. You could do with a break.’
    ‘Perhaps, later.’
    ‘Not later. We’ll go to Alberto’s and have a carbfest. Pasta, Chianti and some of that amazing chocolate cake he makes. It’s the very best sticking plaster for a broken heart, I promise.’ She grinned. ‘Trust me, I know. You can fall into the bath later.’
    Tara suddenly laughed. ‘Fall is probably the right words, but you got me at chocolate cake.’
    ‘Oh, well done.’ Beth said, approvingly. ‘You’re going to make an excellent patient.’
    Beth had her giggling through the meal, telling her the most outrageous stories about the many boyfriends she had had over the years. ‘I don’t believe it,’ she finally, protested. ‘That’s too much.’
    Beth shrugged. ‘Ah, well. It’s my contention that you should never spoil a good story by sticking too closely to the truth.’
    When they parted in Victoria Road to go their separate ways, Tara felt better. The laughter had helped. She didn’t think it would last, but tonight she would have a soak in the bath and she would sleep.
    ‘Good evening, Mrs Lambert.’ The security guard raised his hand in salute as she passed him.
    She let herself in, her good mood evaporated in the space of a second. She glared at the telephone. She should ring him and tell him to call off his watchdog right now, but the morning would do. And she wouldn’t telephone. She would have to keep her distance from Adam if she was ever to recover her equilibrium. She would send him a polite little note instead.
    The light on the answering machine was winking and she pressed the play button. There were a couple of calls from people she hadn’t seen for a week or two. A message from Jim, sounding quite desperate, asking her to ring him. The last call was a voice she had heard before, but couldn’t quite put a name to.
    ‘Tara? I hope this is the right number, I got it out of the phone book. I wondered if you would come into the clinic and see me if you can spare the time? Perhaps at the weekend. Saturday at about four o’clock would be a good time.’ Jane? ‘Sorry, this is Jane Townsend. I should have said that first. I’m absolutely hopeless with these things. I’m rather worried about Adam and I think it’s time we had a little a chat.’
    Oh, yes, it was Jane. That warm breathless charm was unmistakable. And she wanted to have a little chat about Adam. Warn her off, more likely. Under