to believe otherwise. And yet…
‘I—really think I must go and get dressed,’ she insisted, moving towards the door. ‘Er—if you’d like another cup of tea, help yourself. I—won’t be long.’
She made her escape before he could say anything else. And, as she went up the stairs again, she realised she was trembling. For heaven’s sake, she thought impatiently, what was wrong with her? It wasn’t the first time she had had a conversation with a strange man, and certainly he had given her no reason to feel this consuming sense of vulnerability in his presence. It wasn’t as if he’d made a pass at her or anything. He’d been a perfect gentleman, and she was behaving like a silly spinster. For God’s sake, she told herself, locking the bathroom door and taking a good look at herself in the mirror, she was too old and too jaded to be attractive to a man like him. Even if Julie had not been on the scene, there were probably dozens of women like her, waiting to take her place. She was just a middle-aged housewife, with a pathetic lust for something she had never had.
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