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The ordeal of her interview had dissipated her earlier more optimistic mood and she was glad to leave the office, with its depressing smell of despair and defeat, behind her.
Joel saw her emerging from the Social Services office from the other side of the street. He had seen her inside the building earlier and had recognised her immediately.
Even without knowing who she was she would still have drawn his attention. The way she was dressed would have made her stand out like a sore thumb even if her face hadn’t. Initially it had angered him that she should be there—what the hell did someone like her need state benefits for?—and then as she’d turned her head he had seen the look in her eyes, had remembered what Sally had said about hearing that she had been left with nothing other than a mountain of debts.
As she’d felt him watching her she had lifted her chin and stared back at him, and, although there had been nothing remotely sexual in the way she’d looked at him, just for a heartbeat of time he had felt his body respond to her with such unexpected force that it had taken him completely off guard.
He was not a man who had ever allowed his sexuality to rule him. In his view a man’s sexual response to a woman was his responsibility and not hers, and a man who couldn’t take that responsibility wasn’t much of a man.
As he’d turned away from her he’d told himself that that was what happened when you had a wife who no longer wanted you in bed, but deep down inside himself he’d known that his reaction had been more than a mere transfer of sexual frustration from one woman to another.
She’d looked oddly vulnerable standing there despite her fancy clothes and the air of aloofness she was trying to project.
Now, as he watched her step out into the street, he saw the youth darting out of the side-street beside her and running up behind her, reaching out for her bag.
He called out a warning at the same moment as the would-be thief made a grab for her bag.
Philippa swung round, her body tensing as she heard Joel call and felt the hand on her shoulder-strap, hanging on to her bag as the youth tried to take it from her, pushing her to the ground as Joel raced across the road to help her.
As soon as her attacker saw Joel he let go of her bag and ran off. Shakily Philippa got to her feet. The shock of what had happened had brought her dangerously close to the edge of bursting into tears… her whole body had started to shake and she felt physically sick. A small group of people had gathered to see what was going on, adding to her discomfort and embarrassment.
‘Are you all right…?’
Joel’s hand was on her arm, his body protectively shielding her from the onlookers. He was a tall man, broad-shouldered and dark-haired, and for some reason the warm male scent of his body felt so comforting that she was actually tempted to lean closer to him.
It was a totally unfamiliar sensation to her, this instinctive feminine awareness of male comfort and strength, this knowledge that if she did act on her impulses and lean closer to him his arm would curl protectively around her, holding her safe; she could almost hear the steady, comforting thud of his heartbeat, feel the protective warmth of his body.
Shockingly, tears suddenly filled her eyes, an inexplicable sense of loss filling her with pain as she recognised how different a man like this was from the men in her life.
For the first time in years she was aware of feelings she had thought she had successfully dismissed: a sharp, aching sense of deprivation and loss; an awareness of all that her marriage had denied her.
Angrily she pulled away from Joel, irritated by her own weakness, thanking him tersely for his help.
There was no way he could let her walk away on her own, Joel acknowledged as he watched her; for one thing he didn’t think she was physically capable of doing it. She looked as weak as a kitten and when he had held her he had actually been able to feel the shape of her ribs beneath her clothes. Sally was a slim woman but her body was nicely covered with flesh as a woman’s body should be. This woman felt as though she hadn’t eaten a decent meal in weeks. He was surprised she’d had the strength to hold on to that bag of hers.
‘I’ll walk you to your car,’ he told her gruffly.
Philippa shook her head.
‘No. No, I’m fine… honestly…’ But when she turned to look at Joel she saw from his face that he wasn’t going to be deterred and she was forced to tell him, ‘I don’t have my car with me… I… I walked…’
‘From Larchmount Avenue; that’s almost two miles away.’ Joel was frowning, standing in front of her so that she couldn’t really walk past him.
Philippa eyed him uneasily. How did he know where she lived?
Joel read her mind.
‘I recognised you in the social services office,’ he told her. ‘I used to work for your husband.’
Philippa flushed uncomfortably. ‘I… I’m sorry——’ she began, but Joel interrupted her, shaking his head as he told her gruffly,
‘It’s not your fault, and besides, he seems to have left you as badly off as the rest of us.’
Philippa didn’t try to deny it.
She still felt slightly sick and shaky and she wanted to get home. As she moved to walk past Joel he fell into step beside her. When she hesitated and looked at him, he told her lightly, ‘I could do with the exercise; my wife complains that I spend far too much time sitting around making the place look untidy.’
Despite his smile Philippa could hear the bitterness in his voice. ‘Why aren’t you using your car? Walking around isn’t the safest thing for a woman to do these days…’
