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and experiences. He adds considerable medical insight to our discussion, which I value immensely. I had forgotten what a gracious conversationalist he can be, putting people at ease, encouraging them to open up and never making them feel inferior, even though his knowledge is so immense. It is the sort of discussion you can only have with a few people in life, those who know you well enough to question and challenge and who have enough intellectual and emotional maturity to be truly authentic.

      With an active listener like Jeremy, coupled with my passion for the subject matter, our dialogue continues for some time. I figure I have had more than my share of air time so I stop to give him a chance to change topics. I notice again the mischievous twinkle in his eyes and his lips trying to hide a smile.

      ‘What is it? I’m sorry, I’ve been talking way too much. You should have stopped me.’

      ‘Not at all, you know I love to see you like this. Hearing you speak so passionately about your work is just wonderful. Not everyone feels that way, so it’s special when it happens.’ He smiles a bashful grin at me. ‘I just need to come clean about something and I haven’t yet.’

      ‘Oh, what’s that?’

      ‘I was actually there today.’

      ‘Where?’ I ask, not fully understanding.

      ‘At your lecture, this afternoon.’

      I stare at him, eyes and mouth wide open.

      ‘You were there, today, at my lecture?’ I am completely astonished.

      ‘Yes, yes and yes. I know I should have told you earlier, but I just wanted to see you in your world.’ He turns to me gently. ‘You were fabulous, Alexandra, you really engaged the audience and stimulated such thoughtful discussion. Both the students and faculty were mesmerised by you and your work. As was I.’ His voice oozes sexiness.

      This time I am truly speechless. The great Jeremy Quinn attended my lecture. Unbelievable! I subconsciously pick up my glass and take a gulp that finishes the rest of my drink. Jeremy tilts his glass toward mine, gesturing a silent cheers and does exactly the same. I suddenly feel the full impact of the champagne in my head, which is quite pleasant actually, and more immediately, my bladder — not so pleasant. I excuse myself and go into the bathroom. After relieving myself rather urgently, I notice the bathroom is bigger than my bedroom at home, with grey, white and blue marble in an attractive pattern. It is stocked with all the luxuries you would expect from the penthouse suite of a five-star hotel — mini bottles of body lotion, shampoo, conditioner, shower gel, as well as soap, grooming kits and shower caps in little pastel boxes that look so gorgeous it would be a shame to open them. I look longingly at the sparkling-clean oval bath when I hear Jeremy tap on the door suggesting that he run a bath for me.

      ‘Have you become a clairvoyant as well in our time apart? Is there anything else I should know?’

      He laughs. ‘I know you’ve had a big day and if I remember correctly, one of your favourite pastimes is having a bath. Also, I have a vested interest in making you feel as relaxed as possible, so I’d be more than happy to run one for you. Just like old times.’ Strange that his words sound so familiar given so much time has passed since this last occurred.

      ‘That sounds delightful. Are you sure? I’m more than happy to do it.’

      ‘Alex, please just do me a favour and go with the flow this weekend.’ He enters the bathroom.

      ‘I don’t want any resistance and I plan on maximising every hour I have with you. Now, it will be my pleasure to run you a bath, so why don’t you go and get your things together and settle in.’

      Once again, I look at him, completely astounded. Am I dreaming? Is this really happening? I walk out and head toward the exceptionally large walk-in robe where my wheelie bag has been placed. I hear his voice over the running bath water as I take a moment to absorb the sheer opulence of the master suite.

      ‘Please unpack your belongings. I need to know you’re not going to run out on me this weekend.’

      As I start doing exactly as he requests, I wonder whether he was always this directive. I suppose he was. Not in a bad way, just in a way that makes it awkward to go against. Surprisingly obedient, I unpack my clothes, shoes, take out my toiletries bag, and leave my work papers in my briefcase.

      I’m about to walk out of the room when I notice the phone on the bedside table. Given the noise of the bath running, I quickly go over to the phone and pick up the receiver. It won’t hurt to leave a quick message for Robert and the kids, just in case they haven’t quite lost reception.

      A female voice answers. ‘Good evening, Dr Quinn. How may I help you?’

      ‘Oh!’ I say into the phone, taken aback by the voice at the end of the line.

      I didn’t expect an operator and I’m obviously not Dr Quinn. At that precise moment Jeremy comes up behind me, wraps one arm around my waist and removes the receiver from my hand.

      ‘Sorry to disturb you, we don’t need any assistance at the moment and please don’t connect any calls from the penthouse suite unless I speak to you personally.’

      I hear the lady say, ‘Yes, of course, Dr Quinn. Enjoy your evening.’

      ‘Thank you. I intend to.’ He gently replaces the phone.

      I feel like an errant child who has been caught in the closet by a grown up eating someone else’s candy and immediately turn a deep shade of red. I have never been able to hide my embarrassment or shame from anyone, let alone Jeremy. I can’t believe I’m feeling so culpable about trying to make a phone call. I don’t utter a word.

      He wraps both arms around my waist so I am entrapped in his strong arms, snuggles his face into the side of my neck and inhales deeply before saying in a low, quiet voice, ‘Try anything like that again and that cute arse of yours will be the same colour your face is right now.’

      My heartbeats faster at his words and the blood pumps through my body, and to my surprise and horror, even my nipples can’t ignore the intent of his words through my blouse. How does he do this to me? He lightly kisses my neck and then leads me silently out of the bedroom.

      As we walk back into the lounge area, I notice he has music softly playing in the background and there is a plate of voluptuous dark chocolate-coated strawberries on the round table. I decide it is probably wise not to acknowledge his previous comment.

      ‘May I?’ Indicating the strawberries.

      ‘Of course,’ he nods, ‘they are there to be eaten.’ How does he make his words sound so enticing?

      ‘They look delicious.’ I realise I have only had champagne since lunchtime. They taste as scrumptious as they look and the thick dark chocolate coating is delectable. I close my eyes, enjoying the sensation. Jeremy places a serviette to the corner of my lip, gently dabbing some strawberry juice that had obviously escaped. This simple movement feels so seductive that my legs quiver as my own juices begin to form between my thighs, even though I vehemently deny their existence in my mind. He smiles deliciously at me while offering the plate as if he is fully aware of the intentions of my body.

      It is as if I have morphed on to the big screen and I’m playing the lead role in a sophisticated Hollywood romance. I let out a nervous giggle at the unlikelihood of the whole situation. It’s not as if this sort of thing happens every day when you are doing the washing up, the laundry and picking up the kids from school. He looks at me quizzically as if unable to decipher my thoughts.

      ‘Don’t worry, just reflecting on life for a moment.’

      I’m relieved he hasn’t mentioned the phone call as I don’t want to spoil the mood.

      ‘Well, unless you would like more strawberries right now, your bath awaits.’ As he opens the door, the scene surrounding me is becoming more Hollywood by the second. Is this my once-in-a-lifetime version of Pretty Woman? Would it be fair to stop now because of the nagging guilt I feel continuously tugging at the bottom of my heart?

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