Oh my God, this is quick. He's ripping off my knickers. His hands are … his fingers are … I'm panting helplessly … We're going so fast I can barely register what's happening. This is nothing like Connor. This is nothing like I've ever — A minute ago I was standing at the door, fully clothed, and now I'm already — he's already —

'Wait,' I manage to say. 'Wait, Jack. I just need to tell you something.'

'What?' Jack looks at me with urgent, aroused eyes. 'What is it?'

'I don't know any tricks,' I whisper, a little gruffly.

'You don't what?' He pulls away slightly and stares at me.

'Tricks! I don't know any tricks,' I say defensively. 'You know, you've probably had sex with zillions of supermodels and gymnasts and they know all sorts of amazing …' I tail off at his expression. 'Nevermind,' I say quickly. 'It doesn't matter. Forget it.'

'I'm intrigued,' says Jack. 'Which particular tricks did you have in mind?'

Why did I ever open my stupid mouth? Why?

'I didn't!' I say, growing hot. 'That's the whole point, I don't know any tricks.'

'Neither do I,' says Jack, totally deadpan. 'I don't know one trick.'

I feel a sudden giggle rise inside me.

'Yeah, right.'

'It's true. Not one.' He pauses thoughtfully, running a finger around my shoulder. 'Oh, OK, Maybe one.'

'What?' I say at once.

'Well …' He looks at me for a long moment, then shakes his head. 'No.'

'Tell me!' And now I can't help giggling out loud.

'Show, not tell,' he murmurs against my ear, and pulls me towards him. 'Did nobody ever teach you that?'

EIGHTEEN

I'm in love.

I, Emma Corrigan, am in love.

For the first time ever in my entire life, I'm totally, one hundred per cent in love! I spent all night with Jack at the Panther mansion. I woke up in his arms. We had sex about ninety-five times and it was just … perfect. (And somehow tricks didn't even seem to come into it. Which was a bit of a relief.)

But it's not just the sex. It's everything. It's the way he had a cup of tea waiting for me when I woke up. It's the way he turned on his laptop especially for me to look up all my Internet horoscopes and helped me choose the best one. He knows all the crappy, embarrassing bits about me which I normally try and hide from any man for as long as possible … and he loves me anyway.

So he didn't exactly say he loved me. But he said something even better. I still keep rolling it blissfully round my head. We were lying there this morning, both just kind of staring up at the ceiling, when all at once I said, without quite intending to, 'Jack, how come you remembered about Kerry turning me down for work experience?'

'What?'

'How come you remembered about Kerry turning me down?' I swivelled my head slowly to look at him. 'And not just that. Every single thing I told you on that plane. Every little detail. About work, about my family, about Connor … everything. You remember it all. And I just don't get it.'

'What don't you get?' said Jack with a frown.

'I don't get why someone like you would be interested in my stupid, boring little life,' I said, my cheeks prickling with embarrassment.

Jack looked at me silently for a moment.

'Emma, your life is not stupid and boring.'

'It is!'

'It's not.'

'Of course it is! I never do anything exciting, I never do anything clever, I haven't got my own company, or invented anything—'

'You want to know why I remember all your secrets?' interrupted Jack. 'Emma, the minute you started talking on that plane — I was gripped.'

I stared at him in disbelief.

'You were gripped?' I said, to make sure. 'By me?'

'I was gripped,' he repeated gently, and he leant over and kissed me.

Gripped!

Jack Harper was gripped by my life! By me!

And the point is, if I'd never spoken to him on that plane — and if I'd never blurted out all that stuff — then this would never have happened. We would never have found each other. It was fate. I was meant to get on that plane. I was meant to get upgraded. I was meant to spill my secrets.

As I arrive home, I'm glowing all over. A lightbulb has switched on inside me. Suddenly I know what the meaning of life is. Jemima is wrong. Men and women aren't enemies. Men and women are soulmates. And if they were just honest, right from the word go, then they'd all realize it. All this being mysterious and aloof is complete rubbish. Everyone should share their secrets straight away!

I'm so inspired, I think I'm going to write a book on relationships. It will be called 'Don't Be Scared To Share', and it will show that men and women should be honest with each other and they'll communicate better, and understand each other, and never have to pretend about anything, ever again. And it could apply to families, too. And politics! Maybe if world leaders all told each other a few personal secrets, then there wouldn't be any more wars! I think I'm really on to something.