‘You look different,' he said, a little while later, looking at her over the top of his mug. 'I don't mean because you're not dressed up any more. There's something else.’

Elsa looked down. She was fairly sure it was the leftover make-up that still smudged her eyes and the way that all those products that Bron had put on it gave her hair a bit more body than usual.

‘Maybe it's the satisfaction of having driven your car safely back,' she said, looking back up at him and smiling.

‘There isn't a mark on it – or at least, not one that wasn't there before.'

‘It was incredibly trusting of you to let me drive it. Now I can tell you that I hadn't driven for ages. I was dreadfully nervous.’

Retrospective horror passed over his face. 'But you felt OK once you were on the way?'

‘Yes, actually. I had Maggie for support and there was no traffic to speak of. I actually quite enjoyed my journey back here. It was only when I got home that I went into shock.’

He shook his head slightly. 'I would never have put you through that if I'd known.’

She bit her lip, suppressing a smile and regarded him with her head on one side. 'That's the second time you've said that to me this evening.' He looked a bit blank. 'The costume competition? That involved having to do a Viennese waltz on our own?’

He smiled. 'You were superb, and you certainly deserved to win the competition. Who will you take for your weekend away, or shouldn't I ask?'

‘You certainly shouldn't ask. Have another biscuit.' She reached for the tin and passed it to him, fervently hoping he wouldn't see her blushing.

He looked around her workroom, admiring all her handiwork as he gave her a detailed account of an A and E department on a Saturday night. She was about to suggest making some more hot chocolate when she saw him yawn. 'Have you far to go tonight?' She almost whispered the words.

The charge she'd felt when he nearly kissed her before couldn't have been only one way, could it? It seemed so strong. And much as she knew he adored his car, he hadn't really needed to come in for a hot chocolate. But she didn't want to make a fool of herself by being too forward. She suddenly felt rather shy.

‘Mm. Quite far.' He blinked at her but she couldn't quite read his expression.

She took a breath. 'Unless you've got to be somewhere very early in the morning or something…' She paused.

‘I haven't got anything in particular to do tomorrow morning, actually,' Laurence said.

She decided to take a leap of faith. 'You could spend the night here,' she said before losing her nerve. 'The sofa in the workroom converts to a double bed.' Oh, why had she said 'double' when just bed would have done? She felt herself blush again.

‘I don't want to put you out.’

Why was he being so polite? She wasn't his maiden aunt. She laughed nervously. 'Of course you wouldn't put me out!' she said. 'I wouldn't have offered if it would. I'll go and get some bedding. You can work out the mechanism. There's a lever somewhere.’

While she found the spare double duvet and some sheets she wondered if there was anything she should do. Why was it all so difficult? She was definitely out of practice. Perhaps she should just lure him into her bedroom and forget the sofabed. But that just wasn't her style and, anyway, she remembered her bed was strewn with clothes – hardly romantic. If he wanted to sleep, alone, he could and she wouldn't lose face. It wasn't that she necessarily wanted to have mad passionate sex with him (although part of her did) but she did want him to kiss her.

The sofabed looked embarrassingly double when Elsa got back with her pile of bedding. They arranged it together, placing pillows, trying to anchor the bottom sheet.

‘There,' she said. 'I hope that'll be comfortable.'

‘A plank would be comfortable after the night I've had.’

‘You should have said. I've got a nice plank I could have rigged up for you,' she teased, feeling bolder.

He gave a tired laugh and then looked across at her in the soft light of a table lamp. 'Come here, you.' He put his arms round her and hugged her for a long time. Then, after what seemed a lifetime of waiting and wondering for Elsa, he found her mouth.

Any doubts Elsa may have had about her feelings for Laurence were dissipated within seconds of his lips touching hers. She wanted him desperately and knew he felt exactly the same. The kiss went on and on; they stopped only to breathe, and then their mouths found each other's again and continued.

At last they sank on to the bed. Elsa's dressing gown fell open and Laurence found his way to her skin and her breasts.

In her turn she undid his shirt buttons and relieved him of his dress shirt. His chest was wonderful to her and as her hands explored it tentatively she thought how aesthetically pleasing a toned male body was.

‘Elsa,' he said later, huskily. 'We have to decide whether to stop or go on.’

She knew what she wanted to do: a lightning bolt of insight told her clearly she did not want to stop and that she must say so. Laurence wouldn't push it if she showed a moment's reluctance.

‘In which case I'll have to go out to the car.'

‘Why?' For a panic-stricken moment she wondered if he'd suddenly remembered he hadn't locked it or something, in which case his mind hadn't been as connected with hers as she'd thought.

‘Condoms,' he said bluntly. 'Part of a best man's kit – or at least, sometimes. They're still in the glove box. Back in a minute.’

Elsa used the time to make the bed more comfortable but Laurence must have travelled at the speed of light. He was back before she'd had time to miss him.

Elsa woke and knew something was very, very different about her. A second later she realised what it was. The cause of this vast change was lying asleep beside her. He was, she decided, entirely fabulous. She moved a little closer to him, intending to gently wake him up but then she remembered.

‘Damn!' she whispered. 'Bloody packet of three!’

She sighed deeply and got out of bed as carefully as she could so as not to wake him. If there were no more condoms there could be no more sex and she really didn't know if she could snuggle up to him without wanting it. She didn't want to put pressure on him, either.

It was difficult not to feel smug, she mused, as the water washed away what felt like several cans of hair lacquer and, reluctantly, their night together. Her body looked superficially the same but felt so different. When she turned off the shower she examined her face for traces of their passion and was certain she could see them. 'Post-orgasmic glow' her friends at college used to call it. She'd better not make plans to see her parents this Sunday – her mother would definitely notice.

Laurence was in the little kitchen area before her, washing up the cocoa mugs and boiling the kettle.

‘Morning!' she said breezily, drying her hair with her fingers, suddenly feeling underdressed in an outsized T-shirt and a smile. 'Shall I make the tea?'

‘First things first,' he said and took her into his arms. 'Oh,' he said a moment later. 'No knickers. How delightful.’

A little while later she sighed, and pulled away. 'I'd better put them on.’

He gave her a last, lingering kiss before he released her. 'Yes, I suppose you had.’

Reluctant to leave him, she said, 'I've got a nice big towel if you'd like a shower?'

‘Big enough for two?’

She giggled. 'The shower's not big enough for two. You have to watch your elbows even if it's just one of you in there. I'll make breakfast.’

With a lingering pat on her bottom, he moved past her into the bathroom.