I debate my conundrum for the rest of the week.  Of course it's ridiculous to spend so much time thinking about something that should be simple enough to decide on. Go out with Sam, or go out with Jake. It's really not that hard. I could also have changed Sam's date to Friday, or Jakes, meaning that I could have done both of them (no pun intended), but I don't. I say nothing to either of them and commit to inertia instead.

In fact I magnify the situation to be much more than a date with Jake or Sam. I extrapolate it, magnify it to the maximum zoom available and turn it into to a major life crossroads.

Who did I want to be from now on? Was I the woman who took risks and did the dangerous thing, and who went with her gut? Or was I the woman who didn't do that? Was I the woman who was sensible and levelheaded and made choices to that effect?

By Friday I know I've left it too late to cancel on Sam. And since he'd been smiling and casting furtive glances in my direction all week, cancelling now would bring it's own awkward repercussions. I decide to wait until the last possible moment to cancel on Jake, reasoning that my emergency/something important came up/not feeling well excuse would sound much more plausible that way.

"So what did you go for outfit wise?" Robyn asks, having called for my pre-date pep talk on Saturday night. I can hear her munching on what I assume is a carrot stick down the other end of the line. She was on her wedding diet and it was her replacement for crisps.

"My black skinny Calvin Kleins, black and white striped silk top and flat red ballet pumps. I'm going for French casual," I glance down at myself. "It's just a few drinks at the pub."

"Sounds perfect. So he's coming at 7 yeah? How are you feeling about it now?"

I ponder this. Since I'd decided to ditch Jake and make the sensible choice of Sam I'd felt relieved actually. Probably because it meant I wasn't still analyzing it. "Better actually. It'll be nice. Sam's a nice guy," I try and sound enthusiastic but it comes out uncertain. Maybe because my stomach's churning and its not because of pre-date nerves, its because I haven't cancelled on Jake yet.

"He is Alex. He's a lovely guy, and cute too. In that geeky clean way you like them. He's perfect Alex material," she says. If only she knew. My taste in men had done a total 180 recently. Apparently tattooed nightclub owning knife wound victims were perfect Alex material these days. We finish up and I promise to call her tomorrow to fill her in.

Sam, of course, arrives on time, just before 7 and I'm greeted with his bright smiling face when I open the door. He has flowers, not white roses, but a lovely hand-tied bouquet of sunflowers.

"Oh Sam you didn't have to." I say as he hands me them.

He shrugs, "Oh I know. You like them though and they were just asking to be picked from your neighbours garden," He smiles. "Though I expect you probably have them all over the house?" He says looking around curiously.

"Actually I don't," I shake my head. "They're really lovely, thank you. Go through to the living room while I put these in water," I gesture towards the front room and go to the kitchen to get a vase. They really are lovely, I'm not surprised that he remembered that sunflowers were my favourites. I normally have them in my office at the surgery - when there aren't white roses taking up space on my desk that is. Sam is the sort of person who remembers those kinds of things though. He's nice like that - nice and safe.

I fetch a vase from under the sink filling it halfway, before walking back into the living room. Sam is browsing the contents of my bookshelf with interest as I put the flowers down on the side table that holds the phone.

He turns to face me an gives me a warm smile, "You look really pretty Alex," He says softly.

"Thank you. You scrub up ok yourself." I smile back.  He's wearing light coloured brown jeans with a dark blue denim shirt and smart trainers. His face is clean-shaven and his eyes are kind and brown and though he isn't wearing the black-rimmed glasses he wears for work, he looks good without them too. His hair is darker and longer than Jakes and he wears it in trendy unkempt style. He actually looks a little like a student - I hope he has ID on him.

"Yeah its good to get the civvies on," he smiles again.  His relaxed manner settles me down and I smile back. "You have a really lovely house by the way. No Fred?"  he sounds disappointed.  Of course he also remembered my cat's name.  Because he's nice like that.

"Oh no, he's out on the tiles. E very night from six until nine is party time for Fred. He's in charge around here. He wont be home until he's scented every square inch of the village. Then once more for good measure," I tell him and he laughs.

"Well that's a shame; would have liked to introduce myself to the man of the house"

"He definitely wears the trousers that's for sure. You'll probably meet him later," I say. Sam's eyes widen and I realise why. Because I've just intimated that there's a chance I'll invite him back here after. Stupid politeness. I ignore the hopeful look in his face and nod. "Ready?" I say. Sam nods and follows me out.

In the hall by the door I put on my black blazer and sling my shoulder bag across my body, fishing my phone out to send the text I've been dreading all week.

Apologies for the short notice, but I can't make tonight - something's come up. Another time maybe - A

Then I leave it on the console table near the front door. I don't want to see the response he'll send. Not whilst I'm out with Sam anyway. He may not even mind that much. He's probably seducing some other girl with an elaborate ruse as we speak. I ignore the slight sinking feeling that idea causes. Outside, Sam's BMW is parked behind my mini on the driveway and he unlocks it as we start down the path.

"Actually Sam, we can walk down. It's only ten minutes down the road. Plus it's a nice night?" I suggest.

"Oh right yeah that's fine. Great." He nods and locks his car again and we head off down my street toward The Pig and Hen which is situated at the bottom of the village near the large wishing well which now functioned as a roundabout. I give him a little mini tour of Shere as we go, pointing out Ken's bakery where I get my croissants this, saying with some certainty that he also does the best chocolate éclairs I've ever tasted outside Paris. Sam frowns at this and says that since his aunt makes the best éclairs outside Paris I must be mistaken. I promise to bring some into work next week to prove my point and tells me it's 'game on'.

It's a nice warm summer night and it shows the village off at its best, and likewise Sam is relaxed and easy to be around. It means that all thoughts of a certain mercurial male are pushed to the back of my mind. To the back of, but not extinguished totally. The pub is busy as always, but we manage to find a small table near the rear next to the large open fireplace, which is obviously unlit tonight.

As we sit down, I smile and give a small wave at Maurice behind the bar and he smiles back, gazing curiously at Sam. Since I'm normally with my Dad or Nick when I come here the fact that I'm clearly here on a date is probably going to be a talking point in the village - a fact that wasn't lost on me when I chose it. I was hoping that word would get out that since I was now dating someone people would now stop trying to set me up with every available bachelor who they may have met in their lives at some point. Not that I'm dating Sam, but they will think I'm dating Sam and that'll do.

It occurs to me that it might be a little immoral using Sam for this purpose, and that I could have done the same with Jake, but I don't think it would have been possible to use Jake for any purpose other than for a lesson in trouble and heartache.

Vaguely I wonder what the reaction would have been if I'd brought Jake in here tonight instead. Sam is the sort of person people round here would expect me to date. Jake is not.

The Pig and Hen is the quintessential village pub, friendly and warm like it's owners. Maurice and Jane had owned it for a few years before I got here and as far as I'd heard had re-done the place. They'd kept a lot of the original features like the exposed beams and old fireplaces but had added some modern touches like contemporary colours, flat-screen TV"s and craft beer. The food isn't bad either.

"So what are you having?" Sam asks once we're seated and I've hooked my jacket over the back of my chair.

"Their cloudy draught cider is very good. Strong, but good, so if you're driving you may want to have a half. But since I'm not, Ill have a pint." I smile.

He nods and goes off to the bar to fetch our drinks and I watch as Maurice introduces himself and shakes Sam's hand. Sam returns five minutes later with a pint and a half of strong cloudy cider and slides my tankard across to me.

"I should have asked them to put this in a cocktail glass. Probably would have made me feel a little more manly," He holds up his small glass. I laugh and say cheers, knocking my glass with his and take a sip.

Sam is funny, in a witty dry way, a side I don't really see from him at work where he's almost always professional and somewhat reserved. I'm not sure how long Sam has liked me but I definitely felt a change in his behaviour toward me after Ben and I broke up. Then a month or so later, at his 30th birthday which I dragged the girls to, he suggested we 'should go for a drink sometime'. It only took him 8 months to pluck up the courage to actually follow up on it.

Sam was also engaged, Sarah I think her name was, but it had ended shortly before Ben and I broke up. I'm pretty sure he had his heart-broken, though I'm not sure exactly what happened because he'd never talked about it. I wonder if that's why it took him so long for him to ask me out - heartbreak tends to kill your confidence with the opposite sex even if you convince yourself otherwise.

We somehow get onto the London club scene, which is apparently his idea of hell. He asks about my night with the girls last week at the opening, which of course causes unbidden thoughts to enter my mind. I say unbidden, but since they didn't need much bidding I'm not sure I could accurately call them that. Jake has been lingering in the shadows of my mind all night. What was his response to my text? Does he want to do it another time? Had I blown it? Was it for the best?

I keep my response to Sam vague, telling him that the club was crowded and trendy and the hospitality great but that I came home early with a headache. We chat about films, and music and I find out that he also plays piano a little, like him my piano playing had also started when I was seven.  I'd been practicing almost every day since. Though after Ben left I stopped playing completely. I think because I was terrified I was going to play depressing sad pieces that would make me cry and I didn't want to cry over him. Now it had become more than that. I wasn't sad anymore but I was scared my rusty fingers had forgotten too much and then I'd cry over that.

I leave all of this out in the conversation and tell him instead how it started, how mum and dad - mainly mum - insisted that we each took up a talent, something we could focus on that would keep us out of trouble and teach us the art of practice makes perfect. Tash rode horses until she fell off when she was 14 and spent three weeks in hospital with a fractured pelvis and four broken ribs. Nick went through rugby, lacrosse and water polo before he moved out for Uni. When Sam says he hopes to hear me play sometime, I make a promise to embarrass myself in front of him at some point. It's out of politeness rather than anything. Of course I can play. I just don't play in front of people often - I'd done it at family parties and gatherings and when I was backed into a corner with no route of escape.

I'd forgotten how much I enjoy dates. The build up, the getting to know one another, and deciding if you like each other or not. Perhaps that's why Leigh is the way she is, jumping from one guy to the next in quick succession. Of course there's always the chance it will go wrong, and that instead of excitement and newness it's just a prolonged stumble through awkward conversation and even more awkward silences. But tonight isn't like that and Sam and I have lots in common and I enjoy his company. It's light and easy and relaxed and it's why we get on so well at work.

I can't imagine being this comfortable with Jake. He makes me too edgy and hot for comfort and chat. My mouth goes dry around him and the way he looks at me makes me feel underdressed. Or naked. And what would we talk about? Jake would just stare that stare at me intensely with those glittering turquoise eyes with the occasional lip bite thrown in. Then he'd do that sexy smirking thing for good measure. I catch myself drifting off in the direction of Jake's mouth and internally chastise my wayward thoughts.

Why when I'm having a perfectly nice time with a perfectly nice man am I still thinking about another man, and other eyes and another mouth?

I have a couple more pints of cider and Sam has a taster of a weak strength craft beer, and two pints of fresh orange and lemonade and then almost too soon, its 11:30 and Maurice is calling time.

"Night Alex, Night Sam, was nice to meet you son," Maurice says warmly, opening the door for us as we head out into the night air.

"Night Maurice, see you soon," I can hear my voice slightly too high with intoxication and as soon as the fresh air hits me I feel the intoxication level increase. Then rather embarrassingly, I stagger slightly and Sam moves in and takes my arm to steady me. I'm thankfully though; falling over pissed would certainly ruin the sensible image of Dr Marlowe that I've tried very hard to cultivate around here.

"Thanks, I'm good now," I say and he releases his arm from my shoulders. "God, that cider really is quite strong. I think three is definitely the limit," I say in my ridiculously high voice. Please don't hiccup. Please don't hiccup.

"You had four Alex," Sam chuckles.

"Oh did I? Ok, then four is the definitely the limit," I nod and he laughs louder.

"Wow, nice car. Expensive postcode you live in Alex. Douglas paying you more than me?" Sam says as we turn up my street. Through my drunken haze, I glance at it. The Taylors clearly have one of their flashy friends over. It's expensive looking I guess but apart from that it looks like any other flashy car to me. I'm not a car person though and all I can glean is that it's silver with black sections on the side of it and tinted windows. That's about as much as I can tell about the car.

"Never seen it before. Eh, wait a minute, don't you live in Richmond?" I exclaim. "In a 4 bedroom townhouse?"

"Yeah but I inherited that remember? I couldn't have bought a shed in that postcode," He throws his hands up. I do remember him telling me that. He'd told me earlier about a rich childless uncle who'd left him his house when he died. Sam was an only child and since his parents had apparently enough money of their own, Sam got the lot. Bizarre but true.

"Hmmmm still.." I say as we walk up my driveway. I feel Sam very close to me and then I feel his hand touch my back to guide me over the rougher gravel and paving of my driveway.

"It wasn't a slight by the way. Plus your postcode means your life expectancy is a lot higher than the average cider drinking female so that's good," He tries to stay serious and I slap him lightly on the elbow. He breaks into a laugh and throws his hands up saying that it's true.

When we get to my front door I'm tempted to ask him in, mainly because it's been a good night, and I've really enjoyed his company, and secondly because I want to delay having to go in there and see what response Jake sent. But then I've also had four pints of strong cider and my judgment is a little impaired.

"I had a really nice night Sam. Thank you. I'm glad we did this," I nod and lean back against my front door and look up at him. He's about as tall as Jake I think, but not as muscular and so doesn't feel as large next to me. Or as dominating. Or as warm.

"You sound surprised," he jokes sliding his hands into his pockets. As his eyes look at me with gentle, expectant eyes I think about whether I want him to kiss me or not. How different from Jake's kiss will it be? I doubt he will kiss me though, it took him 8 months to ask me out so the - then he's kissing me.

I stand there momentarily stunned, my hands at my sides before I bring them up to rest them on his arms. He keeps his hands in his pockets, not touching me, with his head tilted to the side kissing me on my doorstep like a teenager. His kiss is softer and more cautious than Jake's, and there's no urgency in it either, no possessive taking or claiming and he smells of clean linen and tastes of oranges. Sam's kiss feels nice and safe, and if I hadn't been bulldozed by a different kind of kiss from a different kind of man a few days ago then I'm sure it would be making more of an impact.

Then he isn't kissing me anymore.

He stands back and looks at me warily, as though checking to see if he's overstepped a line.

"Sorry, I just thought I'd do that before I over thought it too much." He says.

"No, it's ok. It was fine." I tell him.

He pouts his lip, "Well I was hoping for mind blowing, but I guess fine will do for now."

I smile. "No I meant it was fine for you to kiss me. It was... nice."

"Nice is a bit better I guess," He nods, mouth soft. Suddenly I get the impression we're being watched and I look away from him down the driveway shiftily.

Small village cons: nosy neighbours. Sam takes this as his queue.

"I guess I'll head off now then. I had a really great time Alex," his voice is sincere and hopeful and not for first time tonight I begin to feel as though maybe this could actually go somewhere. Because Jake is done with you?

"Me too Sam. We should do it again sometime," The words are out before I can stop them but I don't care, and I don't think it was drunk talk. I like him, he's nice, and he asks me out on a date before telling me he wants to be inside me. Isn't that all a girl is really looking for in a man? Sam's face lights up.

"I'd really like that. Ok, so see you Monday," he says taking a step back away from me towards his car.

"Night Sam," I stand there for a moment and watch him reverse out, waving a small goodbye before reaching into my bag to get my keys out.

Once inside I lock the door behind me and then pick my mobile up from the hall console table. It's off, having clearly died at some point during the evening; the battery really must be going on it. I really need to admit defeat and upgrade the bloody thing, which I would do if it weren't such a complete pain. I take it through to the kitchen and plug it in to charge. Time to face the music.

I'm hoping for mild irritation and the offer to take me out some other time. I do want to see him again. Despite my reservations and the way he makes me feel, I want and need to figure out what this thing is, this strange intoxicating attraction to him that I don't quite understand. However I don't imagine he gets stood up a lot so by that token I've probably blown it. Yes he said he wanted to chase me but standing him up is another matter altogether - the thought of him walking away leaves me feeling a little cold and empty. I put some dinner out for Fred, and fill the kettle for some tea.

As soon as I flick the switch on the kettle the doorbell goes. Sam must have forgotten something. Though I can't think what since he was only in here five minutes before we left for the pub. Maybe he got the sudden urge to sweep me upstairs to bed and make crazy passionate love to me. Maybe deep down all men secretly want to feel themselves inside you? I walk through the hall and quickly unlock the door expecting to see an apologetic Sam.

Instead, staring back at me is Jake. He looks completely gorgeous and completely pissed off.

Ok, utterly furious (and completely gorgeous) is probably more accurate.

***A Dark Fall is now Available on Ebook and Paperback on Amazon and Kindle Unlimited***