In Bed With Lord Byron

beautifully. He kissed my cheek and we walked awkwardly down the road, my arms crossed, his hands in his pockets. He said,
‘Would you like to see my new office? It’s just round the corner.’ I said yes. It wasn’t very exciting – lots of furniture still in bubble wrap and smelling of new
carpets – what
was
exciting was the proud thrill on his face. He drew me into his private office and confessed he got a kick out of picking up the phone and saying, ‘Anthony
Brown speaking.’ I thought this was so cute and so honest, I kissed him. A few seconds later, we were pulling down the blinds and making love on the carpet.
    As I remembered all of this, a flush came to my cheeks and my nerves mounted and mounted. Hurry up, hurry up, I willed the smug secretary. Because if Anthony doesn’t emerge in the next
fifteen minutes I shall spontaneously combust and he’ll come out to find nothing but a bit of my leg and a pile of ash.
    I cleared my throat and was about to launch into an attack when Anthony came out.
    ‘Lucy – it’s good to see you!’ His face lit up and he spread open his arms. I flew into them and hugged him tightly. I breathed in the smell of his aftershave and sheer
Anthonyness.
    In his office, I sat on a chair and spun round giddily, all girlish with excitement.
    ‘You look different! You’ve had your hair cut!’
    ‘Yes.’ He smoothed his hand over his dark head. ‘D’you like it?’
    ‘Awful!’ I teased him. I had to be mean, because otherwise I’d end up saying something about how utterly gorgeous he looked and how the cut set off the shape of his cheekbones
and the fullness of his mouth.
    ‘Thanks!’ He pulled a face and punched me playfully.
    ‘Look, I want to explain something about when you called earlier.’
    ‘Oh God, yes. Who was that bloke, Lucy? I hope you’re not following in my footsteps and picking up psychos on dating sites!’
    ‘Of course I’m not,’ I cried, stung that he could even conceive that I might be interested in anyone but him; oh God, I had such a long way to go to convince him.
    Anthony smiled, and I swallowed hotly.
    ‘So, my darling Lucy, why are you honouring me with a visit at this time of day?’
    I reached towards my bag, but nerves caught me again. Suddenly the time and place seemed wrong. And what if the smug secretary waltzed in right in the middle?
    ‘Er – would you like to come over to my place for dinner tonight? I just thought we could, ah, talk—’ I broke off, wincing and smiling awkwardly, realising it
wasn’t his favourite word right now.
    Anthony frowned. ‘Well, I kind of have a date . . .’
    ‘A date?’ My throat went dry. Suddenly I felt as though I was standing on a sheet of ice that was starting to snap and crackle and break. ‘Oh, another one of your nutters from
the dating site. Can’t you cancel?’
    ‘Oh, but listen to this, Lucy! You won’t believe what happened. You know I said I was going to meet a girl called Kerry? Well, she turned out to be Kerry Prendeghast!’
    ‘Who?’
    ‘Kerry – you remember – my ex. I told you all about her. I was with her just before I moved over here from New York. It’s just so bizarre. I mean – can you believe
this – she came over to London for three weeks to research internet dating for an article she’s writing. And then who’s the very
first
person she has a date with –
me!’
    ‘Well . . . Well . . .’ My words hung in the air; my tongue seemed to go on strike. Anthony was looking at me very strangely. ‘Well – I, by coincidence, have a date too,
so why don’t you come round and we can have a foursome? I mean, it’d be so great to meet her!’ And I can poison the risotto while I’m at it.
    ‘Well . . .’ Anthony looked uncertain. ‘I mean, she was expecting dinner out . . . but why not? I’ve been telling her all about you and she can’t wait to meet you.
Oh, Luce, I just know you’re going to love her.’
    ‘Oh, I’m sure I will.’
    ‘So is your date with the psycho?’ Anthony asked curiously.
    ‘Um, yes,’ I said, flushing. ‘He . . . he’s not really so bad when you get to know him . . . So, anyway. A foursome would be lovely. Can’t wait to see
you!’
    ‘And we’ll order some food in, right?’ Anthony asked, a teasing note in his voice.
    ‘Of course not. I’m going to cook,’ I cried defiantly.
    ‘Oh,’ said Anthony, playfully flipping the pages of his diary, ‘I don’t think I can make it tonight after