She was sitting on his bed in the moonlight, brazen as you like, with her slender back curved towards him. One arm propped her up, taking her weight, and her head was dipped, as if she were posing for one of those romance book covers he’d seen in the airport newsagents. He guessed she’d just got out of the shower, because her long blonde hair hung in wet clumps around her shoulders. He watched in irritation as a water droplet ran down the shadowed line of her spine before dripping onto his bedspread. Through his travel-weary eyes she seemed to cast a glow in front of her, as if all the cloying positivity she used to force on him day after day radiated from her. Katherine Meers. He’d thought he’d finally convinced her it was over between them, but here she was, waiting naked in his bed again, in his holiday home. A holiday home that he couldn’t remember ever telling her about. Was nowhere a safe haven from her needy optimism?
