on!’
Adam leapt up and banged her on the back. Her coughing fit ceased but he continued to massage either side of her spine. She let him. A deep warmth invaded her body through the thin T-shirt, loosening tendon, muscle and sinew. The massage became slower. She could hear him breathing. Every inch of her was aware of him and tingling with an electric tension. A light touch of something—his fingers, perhaps?—brushed the nape of her neck and then he was moving back to his chair.
‘OK?’ he asked abruptly.
No. Aroused. Angry. Resentful... ‘Thanks to you. Good thing you were here!’ she said vigorously, in an effort to drive the devils from her body. ‘Think how awful it would be, having “Suffocation from home-made flapjack” on your death certificate!’
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