Part 7 (2/2)

*No.' She is firm as she lets the phone fall back into her bag. *Can't find the desk, sorry. Take my word for it, though, that I'm doing an amazing job.'

*I don't doubt it.' Matt raises his gla.s.s, dropping the subject. *Cheers!' he says as Gabby raises hers. *To us.'

Gabby says nothing as she drinks. Us? To us? What us? There is no *us'. And yet she can't deny a thrill at hearing him say the word, and she can't deny a thrill as her eyes unconsciously move across his body, remembering the picture of him surfing. She can't deny a thrill as he watches her looking at him then gives her a slow, s.e.xy smile that makes her tingle down to her toes.

What am I doing? She thinks: I need to leave.

She doesn't. Of course she doesn't. She has another drink.

Their smiles do not fade, each of them is high on the other's company, and it is only as Gabby sips her third drink that she realizes Matt is talking, has been talking for quite some time, and she has no idea what he is saying.

*I'm drunk,' she says suddenly, staring at the gla.s.s as she tries to focus, pus.h.i.+ng it away and shaking her head as if to clear her thoughts.

Matt raises his eyebrows. *You haven't had that much.'

*I know. I'm a total lightweight,' she says. *Drinking on an empty stomach has never been good for me.'

*Or perhaps it's very good for you. Depends which way you look at it.'

Gabby snorts with laughter then looks up at him through her mascaraed eyelashes.

*What? Why are you looking at me like that?'

*Because you,' she says, wagging a finger at him, knowing she has had too much to drink and it is making her bold, knowing she would never dare say this when sober, *are dangerous.'

Matt sits back, feigning dismay. *Me? Me? Dangerous? I'm not the dangerous one.' Once again, a slow smile spreads across his face. *You're the dangerous one.'

*I'm an old married woman,' Gabby protests, able to say these words only because she doesn't feel like an old married woman at all, knows she doesn't look like an old married woman. *You're the s.e.xy younger man flirting with a woman he can't have.'

*Oh?' Matt sits forward, leaning very close, and as his lips brush her ear a s.h.i.+ver runs through her entire body. *Are you absolutely sure I'm flirting with a woman I can't have?' His voice is a whisper of desire and Gabby closes her eyes, her whole body on fire, knowing this is too much, this is more than she can handle. His hand is on her knee, and it is as if it is burning through her skin. She can feel him in every bone, every fibre, every tendon of her body, and it is so delicious, so intoxicating, she wants to just sit like this for ever, with his breath brus.h.i.+ng her ear, his hand on her leg.

But she is married. To a wonderful man. The thought of Elliott, of his face if he could see them, of his devastation if she was unfaithful, if he ever found out, is sobering.

She opens her eyes to see Matt, his face inches from hers. A few seconds go by as they stare at each other, before Gabby shakes her head.

*Matt, I ... I can't do this. I'm not the sort of woman ...' She stops. She doesn't know how to say this. *I'm married. This feels like too much. I'm sorry.'

*It's fine.' He jumps back, his face filled with apology. *I didn't want to make you uncomfortable. I'm sorry. It's my fault.'

*Oh, Matt. If I was ten years younger, and single ...' Her voice tails off.

*You're perfect exactly as you are,' he says. *You are. Truly.' He gives a wry smile. *It's my bad luck that when I've found the perfect woman, she's unavailable.'

*We can still be friends,' Gabby says.

*Absolutely,' Matt says. *Friends.'

He calls Gabby a cab while she mentally kicks herself. She did the right thing, of course she did the right thing, but he is slightly distant now. The playful flirtatiousness, the dangerous edge of earlier has gone, and Gabby would do anything, anything, to get it back.

When the cab arrives and Matt has put his arms round her in a perfunctory hug, Gabby steps back, then moves forward again, taking his face gently in her hands. She opens her lips as she kisses him slowly, softly, moving back when she feels his tongue. No tongues. Just ... teasing. She needs to keep him wanting her. She needs to continue feeling as beautiful as he has made her feel, and if that requires a tiny bit of teasing, so be it.

This time she pulls back to see a smile of delight on his face.

*Friends?' he whispers.

*Friends,' she nods, climbing into the cab, her heart threatening to pound right out of her chest.

The girls are fast asleep when she walks in. Olivia sleeps in the dark, her face as soft and peaceful as when she was a baby. Gabby brushes her hair off her face and kisses her on the forehead, then the cheek, then the cheek again. When the girls are asleep, at their most vulnerable, not fighting, not looking at her with disdain, not being the vocal, confident children they are, she is reminded of their innocence and she feels herself falling in love with them all over again, every night.

Alanna's light is on, her iTouch still clutched in her hand. Gabby hesitates, then prises it out and clicks the screen on. Sometime in the last six weeks Alanna set up an Instagram account, and Gabby, not allowed to look under normal circ.u.mstances, could perhaps find out more about what's going on.

But the iTouch is now pa.s.sword-protected, and nothing Gabby can think of will work. With a sigh, and after several kisses on the forehead and cheek of her younger daughter, she turns off the light and moves quietly down the hallway to her own bedroom.

The television is on when she walks in, Elliott illuminated by the bluish light of Homeland. His mouth is open as he snores gently, the covers mussed up around his legs, his T-s.h.i.+rt ridden up to expose the rounded belly she has always loved so much.

And suddenly Gabby feels like crying. The familiarity, the comfort in seeing Elliott, the relief at having come so close to doing something so terrible a and she did come close, as close as she has ever come a all makes her eyes p.r.i.c.k with tears.

Kicking off her boots she snuggles into Elliott's side, wanting to smell him, feel him, wanting the safety of her husband to somehow negate the danger of the evening. She nuzzles into his neck just as he stirs.

*Oh a hey! What time is it?'

*Eleven-ish. I just got back.'

*It must have been fun.' Elliott pushes himself up on the pillows and smiles at his wife. *Did they think you were a total hot mommy?'

*You know what?' She is coquettish. *I think he did. This kid, Matt, who started the website, definitely seemed to think I was a MILF.'

*He's clearly a man of excellent taste.' Elliott grins, tracing a hand lazily along the neck of her sweater then moving down to the waistband of her trousers, before pulling her towards him.

As they kiss Gabby helps him ease off her sweater and trousers, and draws his T-s.h.i.+rt over his head.

*Did you lock the door?' he whispers, reaching for the remote and turning off the television.

*No. Hang on.' She jumps off the bed and comes back seconds later, rolling on top of him. His fingers are between her legs, her own stroking him to hardness as she closes her eyes, and once again a please let this be the last time a imagines that it is not her familiar, loved, teddy bear of a husband beneath her, but a hard-bodied, virile, unbelievably s.e.xy thirty-something.

It is Matt's fingers she feels inside her, Matt's body she moves her lips down until she takes him in her mouth, and she is more active, more energetic, more turned-on than she has been in years.

Afterwards, Elliott cradles her in his arms and laughs. *What got into you tonight? You were amazing.'

*Isn't that how MILFs are supposed to show their husbands the love?'

*I don't know, but I sure as h.e.l.l hope so,' he says, and laughs again, turning the television back on. Within five minutes, he is gently snoring, leaving Gabby to replay every single thing that happened tonight, or, rather, every single thing that happened before she came home.

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