People loved you in the way they knew how - and often it was not the way you knew. Or needed.

I thought again how odd it was to be on formal terms with someone you had once permitted to lick your ears.

You got a little bit of an attitude, Mr. English, if you don't mind my saying so. I don't mind.

He went through the cupboards, found the olive oil, and started upstairs again. He glanced down at the green and gold label and had to bite back a laugh at the words Extra Virgin. That about summed it up.

I thought of the words of the Renaissance philosopher Michel de Montaigne. "If you press me to say why I loved him, I can say no more than because he was he, and I was I.

'What about stress? Are you using your stress-management techniques when things seem to be getting on top of you?' 'Nothing is getting on top of me.' As I said it, a totally inappropriate picture popped into my mind. 'What are you feeling?' Jake's breath warm against my face, my bruised lips tingling from his kisses. 'Tell me what it feels like with me inside you.'

Cops before breakfast.Before coffee even. As if Mondays weren't bad enough.