Susan woke early. Her head felt terribly heavy, even against the pillow... Her eyes snapped open. Vivid, disconnected memories came flooding back — and irrefutable proof that all of it had really happened lay sleeping right beside her! Susan slipped carefully out of Alan's embrace and got out of bed. Bending low, she quietly gathered her clothes from the floor. Then she stopped and for a long time looked at the sleeping man. Sleep erased the tension from his features and gave him a youthful charm. Yes, he was handsome, the night itself was special, and the whole night had been leading here. But it was Alan!

Susan groaned softly and shut her eyes. What did one say, in the morning, to a man who had been so tireless a lover? What had happened was pure madness — and now, in daylight, a frightening, unsettling madness! She grabbed clean clothes from her bag and locked herself in the bathroom. A quarter of an hour later, praying Alan was still asleep, she eased the door open. God, apparently, was not answering her prayers today. Alan was not only awake — he had pulled on his trousers and settled into one of the armchairs. His night-dark eyes were fixed on her.

"Hello," he said uncertainly.

Susan pulled her short yellow summer dress down and lowered her head, embarrassed.

"I have... I have a lot to do this morning!" With that, she made quickly for the door.

"Wait!" In one bound, Alan was at the door ahead of her. "Is that all you have to say?"

"The garden must be in a terrible state after the party. I have to help my parents and the others put it right," she said in a rush.

"Sue, you've never been able to lie well!"

Her gaze fixed firmly on the window, she pressed her lips shut.

"Look at me!" Alan insisted.

"No!" Susan turned away and stepped back.

"Why? Because I slept with you?"

"I don't want to talk about that!"

"Well, I do!" he declared firmly.

"Let's just forget it happened, all right? Let me out!" Susan turned resolutely for the door. Alan didn't move an inch.

"No." He shook his head. "I don't think I could forget it if I tried! Besides — you liked it too."

"Don't you dare bring that up!" She shivered despite herself.

"Oh no, my dear — I'll bring it up, and often, because it's true. Making love changes things! We will never again be just friends. And I will never forget how good it felt to be inside you!"

"Will you stop!" Susan cried, trembling. The memory, hazy as it was, came rushing back.

"I want to taste you again — to kiss you, and lick you, and—"

"Stop!" She raised her hand.

"I want to touch you again — to feel your hands, your thighs!" Alan went on, his voice rough with sensuality. His eyes burned like coals.

"Stop, damn it! You'll drive me mad!"

"Can you forget all of this, Sue?"

She sighed heavily and ran her fingers through her hair.

"What do you want?"

Alan stepped towards her like a predator.

"I want to hear the truth from you! You didn't pretend last night, nor did I!"

"Fine, then! I admit it — we had a fantastic night in bed! But that's all it was! From here on, everything goes back to the way it was before!"

"Do you believe what you're saying?"

"That's enough, Alan!"

"Sue, what I feel for you isn't just desire — though clearly, sometimes, it drowns out everything else! You are very dear to me. Having you here makes me happy!"

His gentle voice made her shiver. Taking advantage of her stillness, he pulled her swiftly against his lean, muscular body and kissed her — a thirsty, fiery, commanding kiss. A soft moan escaped her. One night with him, and already she was behaving like a lover! Worse — she felt like one! Her knees went weak with excitement.

"Alan!" She wrenched herself free and stepped back. In her almond-colored eyes flickered some unnamed fear.

"I know you want me, Sue, the way I want you! Don't—"."

"I can't! Please don't push me! Last night was a mistake! It was the alcohol, the music, the moon — and my grandfather!"

"A mistake?" Alan repeated coldly. His face turned to stone, and anger flashed in his dark eyes. "Of course. You were only out for a bit of fun, weren't you?"

Susan struggled to swallow the lump in her throat. Alan bent and snatched his shirt from the floor in one motion, turned his back on her, and opened the cottage door.

"It's been a pleasure. Isn't that what one says?" he added over his shoulder, and was gone.

Susan bit her lip to keep from crying. Oh God, what had she done!? Her heart was racing; she could feel her pulse hammering painfully in her temples. How could she have let this happen? She had never in her life done anything so stupid, so reckless!

It was all his fault! He had kissed her, whispered all that intoxicating nonsense! His fault — and her grandfather's, telling her all evening long to have fun! Well, fine. She'd had her fun. Now she had to live with it.

"Steady, Susan!" she commanded herself out loud. After that conversation, Alan must not see her shaken. Whatever happened, she would not let him see how confused, hurt, and miserable she was! She would pretend nothing had happened. She'd had practice at pretending — plenty of it, after her engagement to Martin. How much longer would she have to hide her wounded heart from everyone?

She caught herself doing it in the mirror above the dressing table — assembling the case with the same tidy precision she used in her sessions at school. Situational factors. Alcohol. Emotional vulnerability following a recent loss. Nostalgia as a trigger. She could practically hear herself saying it to one of her students, could see the student nodding along.

The woman in the mirror did not look like someone conducting a clinical assessment. Her hair was tangled, there was a mark blooming on her collarbone, and she had not yet managed to look herself fully in the eye.

You're doing it again, she thought. You're opening a file on it. Give it a label, and you never have to feel it.

She allowed herself one more moment. Then she straightened her shoulders and brushed out her thick blonde hair. There was work waiting — work that would keep her mind off the night just past.

Around noon, when the garden was set to rights, Susan went to her grandfather's study. The old man sat, as always, in the chair behind the desk.

"How are you, Grandpa?"

"Fine, my girl! I may have overdone it a little last night, but I'm feeling better now!"

"What on earth did you say to Aunt Mary? She's leaving tonight! Did you invite us all here just to put us to work?"

"No, no! She's just sulking over the bills. Everything was paid for with my money! Relatives are an enormous burden — always complaining about something!" He waved a hand.

"You might have been more tactful!"

His face looked tired, the lines in it deeper than before. Susan sat on the arm of his chair and stroked his cheek.

"Grandpa, come have lunch! Most of the relatives are in the dining room — go surprise them with something. By tomorrow they'll all be gone!" she said. The old man laid his hand over hers and looked at her sorrowfully.

"And you will also leave, Suzie?"

She looked away, embarrassed. Her heart whispered stay — but reason commanded her to run as far from Alan as she could get. Every meeting with him would cost her enormous effort and put her feelings to the test. Now, a few hours after that morning conversation, she knew he had been right about one thing: they would never again be just friends.

"Grandpa, this time I won't stay away so long, I promise! By the end of the summer I'll definitely come back for a proper stay!"

"Why not stay now?"

"I..." She shifted uneasily. "I promised a friend from work I'd visit her. She has a villa by the sea — we'll be holidaying there with friends of hers!" she said, seizing on Reni's invitation just in time. Grandpa Max sighed.

"Ah yes! An old grandpa can't compete with handsome young men on a beach!" he said with a smile, patted Susan's hand, and added: "Come along to lunch!"

She took her grandfather's arm, and together they headed for the dining room, where the relatives were laying the table. Grandpa Max thanked them all for their help and their company. They seemed satisfied with that, and no more questions were asked.