I know at once she means Jack, but I don't want to admit that's where my mind has leapt to, so I attempt a blank look and say, 'Who, Connor?'
'No, you dope! Your stranger on the plane. The one who knows everything about you.'
'Oh him.' I feel a flush coming to my cheeks, and look down at my embossed paper coaster.
'Yes, him! Have you managed to avoid him?'
'No,' I admit. 'He won't bloody leave me alone.'
I break off as a waiter puts two fresh strawberry daiquiris on the table. When he's gone, Lissy gives me a close look.
'Emma, do you fancy this guy?'
'No, of course I don't fancy him,' I say hotly. 'He just … disconcerts me, that's all. It's a completely natural reaction. You'd be the same. Anyway, it's fine. I only have to get through until Friday. Then he'll be gone.'
'And then you'll be moving in with Connor.' Lissy takes a sip of her daiquiri and leans forward. 'You know, I reckon he's going to ask you to marry him!'
I feel a tiny lurch in my stomach, which is probably just my drink going down or something.
'You're so lucky,' says Lissy wistfully. 'You know, he put up those shelves in my room the other day without even asking! How many men would do that?'
'I know. He's just … great.' There's a pause, and I start to shred my paper coaster into little bits. 'I suppose the only tiny little thing would be that it's not that romantic any more.'
'You can't expect it to be romantic for ever,' says Lissy. 'Things change. It's natural to become a bit more steady.'
'Oh, I know that!' I say. 'We're two mature, sensible people, and we're having a loving, steady relationship! Which, you know, is just what I want out of life. Except …' I clear my throat awkwardly. 'We don't have sex that often any more …'
'That's a common problem in long-term relationships,' says Lissy knowledgeably. 'You need to spice it up.'
'With what?'
'Have you tried handcuffs?'
'No! Have you?' I stare at Lissy, riveted.
'A long time ago,' she says with a dismissive shrug. 'They weren't all that … Um … why not try doing it somewhere different. Try doing it at work!'
At work! Now, that's a good idea. Lissy is so clever.
'OK!'I say. 'I'll try that!'
I reach for my bag, get out a pen and write
[email protected]
/* */
on my hand, next to where I've written 'nb: darling'.
Suddenly I'm filled with fresh enthusiasm. This is a brilliant plan. I'll shag Connor at work tomorrow, and it will be the best sex we've ever had, and the sparkle will come back, and we'll be madly in love again. Easy. And that will show Jack Harper.
No. This is nothing to do with Jack Harper. I don't know why that slipped out.
There's only one tiny hitch to my scheme. Which is that it's not quite as easy to shag your boyfriend at work as you'd think. I hadn't quite appreciated before how open everything is in our office. And how many glass partitions there are. And how many people there are, walking around all the time.
By eleven o'clock the next morning I still haven't managed to put a game plan together. I think I'd kind of pictured doing it behind a pot plant somewhere. But now I actually look at them, pot plants are tiny! And all frondy. There's no way Connor and I would be able to hide behind one, let alone risk any … movement.
We can't do it in the loos. The girls' loos always have people in there, gossiping and putting on their makeup, and the men's loos … yuck. No way.
We can't do it in Connor's office because the walls are completely made of glass and there aren't any blinds or anything. Plus people are always coming in and out of it to get stuff out of his filing cabinet.
Oh, this is ridiculous. People having affairs must have sex at the office all the time. Is there some special secret shagging room I don't know about?
I can't email Connor and ask for suggestions, because it's crucial that I surprise him. The shock element will be a huge turn-on and make it really sizzling hot and romantic. Plus there's a tiny risk that if I wrarn him he'll go all corporate on me and insist we take an hour's unpaid leave for it, or something.
I'm just wondering whether we could creep out onto the fire escape, when Nick comes out of Paul's office saying something about margins.
My head jerks up, and I feel a twinge of apprehension. There's something I've been trying to pluck up courage to say to him since that big meeting yesterday.
'Hey Nick,' I say as he walks by my desk. 'Panther Bars are your product, aren't they?'
'If you can call them a product,' he says, rolling his eyes.
'Are they going to axe them?'
'More than likely.'
'Well, listen,' I say quickly. 'Can I have a tiny bit of the marketing budget to put a coupon ad in a magazine?' Nick puts his hands on his hips and stares at me.
'Do what?'
'Put in an ad. It won't be very expensive, I promise. No-one will even notice.'
