I peered out into the dark night, watching as rivulets formed and streamed down the street, the heavy rain producing mini floods at every turn. I was home alone, I reasoned, nobody needed me here, I could be there and back in five minutes. It would be worth it to make sure those bolts of silk were safe. They'd been delivered right before closing time and I knew Kirk wouldn't have put them up on the racks before he'd buggered off to the Rovers. My mind was made up, I was not risking water damaged silk.

The moment I stepped onto the street the wind whipped my umbrella inside out and tore the fabric from the metal frame. Tossing it aside, I pulled my coat up over my head and I, I wouldn't say I ran, but I hopped between puddles, leaping from one cobble-ey island to the next, until I reached my goal, my factory.

Safely inside I felt, for one moment at least, a reprieve from the storm. But that reprieve was short-lived when I heard the unmistakable sound of rushing water. I soon saw it, a veritable waterfall cascading onto the sewing room floor from where the second-floor balcony intersected with the lower floor ceiling. There must be a blockage in the guttering that flanked the roofline. There was only one thing for it; I needed to remove the blockage.

Did I know what I was doing? Not at all, but that had never stopped me before, not when it came to protecting this place. So I grabbed a handy broom and climbed up to the mezzanine level.

The rain, driven almost horizontal by the strong winds, hit me with full force the moment I stepped onto the balcony. I squinted as I scanned the roofline, using the handle of the broom to poke and prod inside the gutter, knowing the blockage had to be somewhere in the vicinity.

It was there, I could feel it, I just needed to reach a little bit further. So I reached, stepping forward, leaning forward, just that little bit further, feeling my way.

And then I felt something else, a pair of strong arms around my waist, a wet cheek pressed against mine, and a familiar voice in my ear.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"It's blocked!" I yelled back at Adam through the roar of the storm. "I need to clear it before the whole place floods."

"It's too dangerous."

"I don't care! I'm not losing this place, not again."

"Stubborn cow."

This last from him I barely heard, he had muttered it under his breath.

"Fine," he said resolutely, gripping onto me even tighter now, "I've got you."

I understood his intention. Feeling safe in his arms, I reached out further than I could have by myself and with a few hard thrusts of the broom handle, I finally dislodged the giant plug of mud and old leaves and who knows what other muck, yelling a victorious "wooo!" as the water began to flow freely along the gutter.

"Come on," Adam said, pulling me safely back onto the balcony.

But our job wasn't done. Working together now we quickly moved the machines out of the flooded area and swept away as much of the water as we could before retreating to the safety of the office.

"What are you doing here, Adam?" I asked, making a beeline for the heater controls and cranking up the temperature.

"Saving your butt by the looks of it."

I looked up at him as he stood, soaking wet, dripping water onto the floor, and nodded my agreement. "Thank you," I said with sincerity, "really, I couldn't have done that without you."

"You're welcome."

"But seriously, Adam, what were you doing? Were you just strolling past the factory? In the middle of a storm? Look at you," I ran my fingers through his wet hair that had formed into the cutest ringlets plastered onto his forehead. "You're all wet."

"Something like that," he said sheepishly, running his hand through his hair, mirroring my action.

"Something like what?" I was curious now.

"What do you mean, what?"

"You know what I mean. What were you doing on the street?"

"Alright," he shrugged, "If you must know, I was coming home from a date when I saw the factory lights on."

"See, that wasn't so hard, was it?"

Why would Adam be reluctant to tell me he was dating? I wasn't bothered that Adam was dating. Why would I be bothered that Adam was dating? It was nothing to do with me if Adam was dating.

Aware that I was beginning to overthink the concept of Adam dating, I hastily changed the subject and, grabbing a robe from a box of samples, tossed it to Adam.

"Get out of those wet clothes before you catch your death."

"It's pink," he said, staring with distaste at the frilly fabric in his hands.

"It's dry and it's warm," I countered, "besides, I think pink's your colour, matches your rosy cheeks. Now, turn around, I'm going to get changed."

"You know I've seen it all before."

"Not the point."

"Actually, that's exactly the point."

Despite his protests, he turned away while we both changed, only daring to look again when I signalled that it was safe.

"Here," I said as I plonked two heavy cut-glass crystal tumblers onto the desk, filled each with whiskey from a bottle I had retrieved from my desk drawer, and handed one to Adam, "Get this down ya neck."

I gulped the fiery liquid down, watching Adam closely as he did the same.

"So," I couldn't help myself, "what's her name?"

"Who?"

"The lucky lady. Your date for the evening."

"Oh."

Had he forgotten her already? I couldn't help but smile at the thought.

"It was… Cherry. No, Chelsea… Kelsey? Chelsea."

"Wow."

He had forgotten her. I laughed. He laughed. And then he asked me the burning question.

"Does it bother you?"

"That you're hopeless with names?"

"That I'm dating."

"Why would that bother me? You're single… almost. You can do what you want."

"So, it doesn't bother you?"

I felt the intensity of his gaze as he searched my face for a truthful answer.

"Do you want it to bother me?" I deflected. "Is that it?"

"Now you're being ridiculous."

"I'm being ridiculous? Me?"

"Yes."

"Can you hear yourself?"

"Can I hear–?" I could see the growing frustration on his face. "You're the one that's so interested in who I'm dating."

"I was merely making conversation."

"Really?"

"Yes, really."

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Okay, yeah," he gave a weird little shrug and screwed up his face as if to say 'whatever'. "You're right, I wanted it to bother you, I wanted you to be…"

"Jealous?"

"To have some kind of reaction. But you're just so… cold. Like you don't care at all."

A strangled gasp escaped my lips. Fully blown words were beyond my power in my initial state of shock at Adam's accusation. I knew he was wrong, so very wrong, but I'd so successfully pushed down every selfish desire deep within me in favour of my chosen morality, that I was forced to admit to myself that outwardly, yes, I most likely did come across as cold to him.

"I'm trying to do what's best," I explained for what felt like the millionth time, "for everyone. Besides, I thought we were just having fun."

"We were."

"But you wanted more?"

"I don't know. I don't know what would've happened in the future. But I sure as hell wanted a say in what that future looked like."

"Even if it hurt your own family?"

"The family. Ah, yes, the family. The thing that gets me, Carla, is that no one in the family would return the favour."

"What do you-"

"Do you really think Peter would have the same scruples given a similar situation? Do you think he gave a second thought to Leanne when he got with Toyah? Did he give one thought to you when he was sexing up that mechanic on the boat that you bought him? Doing it right in your face?"

"I'm not sure you're making the point you think you're making."

"The point I'm making is that making decisions when it comes to love is intrinsically selfish. You're choosing what you want. Who you want."

"Love?" I unconsciously moved towards him at this turn in the conversation. "Don't you mean lust?"

"Lust is generally the first step on the road to love."

"Were we on that road?"

"I don't know." It was him that moved closer this time. "But we were having fun finding out, weren't we?"

"Mmm…"

All logical arguments against the morality of us had by this time fled from my mind. I was standing close enough to him now to be fully conscious of every part of his body, barely concealed beneath the silky drapes of the pink robe, and feel his breath, warm on my face as I looked up into his eyes. No further thoughts of right or wrong filled my mind as my hand reached for the sash that was fastened around his waist. With one swift movement, I untied it and allowed his robe to fall open.

He needed no further invitation. He lifted me up off my feet and sat me down on the desk. Then he kissed me, passionately, urgently. I felt his hand reach inside my robe and, with no time for fumbling with sashes, he pulled the robe open and off my shoulders. He kissed my bare shoulder, my neck, my lips. His arms held me, safe and secure, as I leaned back onto the desk and he lowered himself over me, kissing me, pressing into me.

"Well, well, well."

Not much could've stopped us in that moment, but the sound of Sarah's voice sure did the trick.