The Beach House - By Jane Green Page 0,11

was almost to be expected, and it certainly didn’t mean he was looking elsewhere.

Nancy was unlike anyone he had ever met. Where Daff was naturally beautiful, at least in his eyes, Nancy was the most glamorous woman he had ever seen. Where Daff loved the simple life—being at home surrounded by friends, gardening, kicking her feet up on the porch with a cold beer at the end of the day, Nancy was sipping cocktails at trendy bars, high heels swinging off her feet, sophisticated, sexy, and seriously out of his league, or so he had thought.

Daff had dark blond hair, streaked now with gray, that curled gently on her shoulders. It had been highlighted when they first met, but after Jess was born she hadn’t bothered, nor did she use makeup much these days, spending most of the time in jeans and sweats, running around town, getting on with the business of life.

Nancy, on the other hand, was immaculate. Not a hair out of place, never seen without perfect lipstick, she was beautiful, intimidating, and admired by everyone at the office from afar. When they were teamed together to work on a design project for a new restaurant in town, Richard was terrified, and immediately taken aback by Nancy’s sweetness.

And more, by her interest in him. It became clear, very early on, that Nancy thought Richard was wonderful, hung on his every word, and Richard, after he got over his disbelief, was so flattered that a friendship became inevitable.

E-mail helped. At first the e-mails to one another were about their mutual project, but they quickly became more and more personal, fostering an intimacy that grew up so fast and so seamlessly that within weeks it felt as if she was his best friend, as if he couldn’t possibly live without her.

And still, he wouldn’t admit to it being anymore than friendship. They would have lunch together every day, in the beginning always inviting colleagues to join, as chaperones, he realized later.

But they were both married, he would tell himself during those moments when he allowed himself to think it might be more. It would be insane to think that it was anything more than friendship. Insane to think that either of them would allow themselves to have an affair.

“I would never have an affair,” he announced one lunchtime after they had eaten and were sitting on a bench in the park, talking for what felt like hours.

“I . . .” Nancy stopped. She looked at him, looked at the ground and took a deep breath. “I think that this could be dangerous, ” she said eventually. Haltingly. She looked back up at him and he wanted to drown in her eyes. “I think that it is very difficult for men and women to just be friends, and I needed to say it out loud so we . . . so we don’t cross the line, so we’re mindful.”

Richard grinned. “I agree,” he said, and he did.

Another week went by. Then a confession. “I’m sorry,” Nancy said, over an after-work drink in a bar, “but I’ve never met anyone like you. I feel like you’re my best friend in the world, which is ridiculous because we’ve only really got to know one another these last few weeks, but I can’t imagine a life that you’re not a part of.”

“I know.” Richard felt sixteen again. Omnipotent, ready to handle anything. “I feel the same way.”

“I’m so confused,” Nancy said.

“I know.” Richard’s voice echoed her sadness as he said again, “I feel the same way.”

They became one another’s obsession. Nancy, unhappy in her marriage, thought about nothing other than Richard, and Richard, happy enough in his, thought about nothing other than Nancy. The affair—truly an emotional affair at first—was really only ever just a matter of time.

And lust is a dangerous thing, particularly when your life is settled, when you have forgotten quite how heady, how all-consuming it can be. For lust is not just thrilling, it is addictive, and once you have a taste for it, it is very difficult to walk away.

The first kiss came in a Starbucks. After a lunch on a cold and rainy day, they had curled up on a sofa in Starbucks, and Nancy had covered their laps with her coat, had reached out underneath the coat and taken his hand, stroking his fingers, amazed at her boldness, amazed she had the nerve to make the first move.

Nancy never dreamed she would have an affair, and although

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