A Stranger's Kiss

rain-soaked cobbles of the courtyard before they were finally lost on the softer surface of the main road where they had to compete with the sound of traffic. She closed the door softly, not quite certain if she was glad or sorry that he had gone.
    * * *
    It was the sound of her telephone ringing that finally woke her.
    ‘Hello, Tara Lambert,’ she mumbled, still half asleep, into the receiver.
    ‘Tara? Are you ill?’ Beth Lawrence demanded.
    ‘Ill? No—’ She caught sight of the clock. ‘Beth, I’m sorry. I’ve overslept. I’ll be with you in twenty minutes.’
    ‘No don’t come to the office. We’ve had a response to one of those leaflets you delivered at the weekend. You’ve an appointment at ten-thirty with a Jenny Harmon at Victoria House.’ She gave her the details and wished her luck.
    She ducked under a cool shower to finish the job of waking up, twisted her shoulder length hair up into a business-like chignon and then dressed in the expensive charcoal grey suit that she kept for important meetings. She checked her document case to make certain she had all the figures she would need and, after a final glance in the hall mirror, set off briskly to keep her appointment.
    The sun was making an effort this morning, lending an air of promise to the morning. Tara took only the very best secretaries on her agency books for temporary work and a client company that could afford accommodation such as Victoria House would make a big difference to their business. It would have a large clerical staff, all needing holiday, sickness and maternity cover.
    In the twelve months that she and Beth had been running their secretarial and computer staff agency, there was no denying it had been a struggle to break even. This response to her efforts to win new business was just what they needed and it was up to her to make the best of it.
    On one side of the ground floor was the wine bar that had been her refuge of the night before.
    The reminder of her evening with Adam Blackmore brought a faint blush to her cheeks and a lingering regret that their meeting had been in circumstances that had shown her in such an unfavourable light. She had spent a restless night disturbed by the thought that he might assume she regularly threw herself at strangers in the hope of getting a free meal. No doubt he thought she always invited them back to her flat for...coffee.
    For a moment the brilliant light-filled atrium, with its expensive boutiques lost its sparkle, but she took a deep breath and firmly banished him from her mind. If that was what he thought it was far too late to do anything about it. Certainly too late to withdraw her rash, uncharacteristic invitation. She should just be glad she would never have to face him again.
    She stepped quickly onto the escalator and tried to compose herself on the stately ride up to the mezzanine. The receptionist checked her name off a list and told her to take the lift to the top floor where she would be met.
    As she was whisked noiselessly upwards she mentally ran over all the things she would say to convince Jenny Harmon that she should give them a chance, determined to make a good impression. The lift came to a halt and the doors slid back.
    The figure that filled the space was shadowed, brilliantly backlit by the great floor to ceiling arch of window that faced the entrance to the lift. Then he moved and the light caught the harsh planes of his face bringing it into sharp relief.
    ‘Adam!’ Tara’s breath left her in a little exclamation of shock as she said his name. The impact made by Adam Blackmore was no less in the clear light of day. Rather the reverse. For a moment they both stood quite still while Tara’s confident smile, in place for Jenny Harmon, faded under eyes about as welcoming as the Atlantic on a bad day.
    Then the doors of the lift began to slide together, galvanising them both into action, Tara in an attempt to escape before they closed and she was whisked away at the whim of some unseen hand, Adam simply to place a well-shod foot in the way so that they opened again. He stood aside to let her out.
    ‘Tara.’ Not a question. No surprise. Her name was simply a statement of some unwelcome, but not unexpected fact.
    ‘Hello, Adam. I didn’t expect to see you here.’ Her voice sounded incredibly small and unconvincing even to her own ears. ‘You said your office was convenient, but I hadn’t realised—’
    ‘No? This is a simple coincidence?’ He didn’t