When I got the temp job at the college, I really had no idea what to expect - especially given the fact that my work experience was limited to hotel reception work . . . and that extremely brief stint as a waitress, of course!

And it's worked out okay, for the most part. The work itself isn't too bad. The hours are good. And I got to go on this trip, so I can hardly complain.

However, tonight, I am rapidly discovering I work with a bunch of overgrown children. Maybe playing all those school sports this morning caused everyone to regress. Or perhaps it was all that free drink. It is possibly even a combination of those two factors.

Whatever the reason, it's half past eight at night, and I'm currently squished between two bushes in the hotel grounds, trying to make myself as invisible as possible.

"98, 99, 100!" I hear Gareth call in the distance. "Ready or not, here I come!" Scattered excited giggles from various angles nearby follow his words.

When I moved to the city, with all those sophisticated fantasies of cocktail bars and expensive restaurants, I did not expect to end up playing tipsy Hide and Seek with my colleagues. Is this what Carrie Bradshaw would do?

Probably not. But then I've probably already proved at least a dozen times over that I'm no Carrie Bradshaw.

And I guess this is fun. In a way.

I chance a sneaky peak over the top of the bush to ensure I'm currently safe. Gareth has wandered off determinedly in the opposite direction, presumably in pursuit of the source of the loudest laughter so I can relax for now. I settle back down, taking a sip of the glass of wine I brought outside with me.

"You realise your feet are sticking out of that bush, right?" I jump as I hear Ross' voice almost in my ear. He's appeared without warning, dropping down into a crouch beside me.

"Shit, so they are," I belatedly realise, quickly retracting them. Clearly, I'd relaxed a little too much.

He chuckles, glancing around warily before sinking fully into the grass opposite me. "It was giving Wicked Witch of the East vibes - I thought you were a goner for a minute."

"And I think you're some sort of ninja," I retort. "How did you just sneak up on me without me hearing?"

He grins, and my heart does a cautious little cartwheel. "A ninja never reveals their secrets," he says solemnly. "It's part of our honour code. Like the Magic Circle."

Yep, it's official. He's adorable. I try not to imagine him making my knickers disappear, ninja-style.

"Maybe you should have volunteered to be the seeker," I say lightly. "You'd probably do a better job of it than Gareth."

"Possibly," he shrugs. He bites his lip, eyes meeting mine ever-so-briefly before sliding away to the ground. "I'd far prefer to be here, though."

God, what is it with this guy? He is such a strange mixture: a gorgeously wrapped-up bundle of sweet and shy and awkward and flirty all at once. He's thrown me off from the outset and continues to discombulate me. And I want to just rip off the packaging and delve inside the contents  . . . But I feel like I still need to ensure that the gift is addressed to me before I do so.

"I'm glad you're here too," I blurt, then worry that I'm misreading the signs, despite his confession earlier: about looking me up, about feeling our connection too. I'm still very wary about being burned, exposing myself too much to an open flame. Ross somehow makes me feel more vulnerable than I have in a long time, and I don't know if I like that. "I mean, hide and seek is a lonely game; it's nice to have some company."

"I bet you never thought you'd be playing this when you signed up to come here," he says carefully.

I didn't really think much about it at all, beyond the prospect of getting to meet you. I don't say this out loud, of course. I'm not a complete maniac. "Yeah, I didn't realise everything would descend so rapidly into chaos, but I'm here for it!" I say instead.

That smile pulls at his delicious lips again. I want to reach out and trace them with a finger; see if they really are as soft as they appear. "Gareth did warn me that these types of events can be unpredictable, but I thought he might be exaggerating. Even with all the shenanigans that go on in my department on a daily basis!" He shakes his head. "I've never worked in a place like this before. It's been a real eye-opener."

"Have you always worked in I.T.?"I ask him, pulling tentatively on the metaphorical ribbon of that package. It was slightly knotted at first, but it's definitely starting to loosen.

He takes a brief sip from his bottle of beer and nods. "Pretty much. I've always found technology easier to deal with than people. It's largely more predictable and easier to read. I'm more comfortable around machines." He grimaces. "I'm quite a . . . socially anxious person, in case you hadn't already guessed that."

"I actually think you do a pretty good job of hiding it," I tell him. I realise now I've probably noticed glimpses of it within his behaviour during the day, but overall, it just comes across more like he's the "strong but silent" type.

Except around me, I realise. Apart from that initial awkwardness this morning, he actually seems to be comfortable with me. Well, if you don't count that ever-present will-they-won't-they atmosphere that has constantly loomed over us since the moment on the beach!

"It's different with you," he says quietly, as if reading my mind. "I don't know why . . . But from pretty much the first moment I spoke to you on the phone, I could feel it."

"I get it." I nod, taking a deep breath and firmly grabbing hold of my courage with both hands. "So . . . What do we do about it?"

But the words have barely left my mouth in an embarrassed rush, when footsteps thud on the gravel drive on the other side of my hiding place. "That's probably Gareth," Ross says, eyes widening.

Damn him!

It's funny how games turn serious so quickly, though, isn't it? You know it's all just a bit of fun, but if you're getting chased or trying not to get found, it still can throw you into a panic. "Come on," I hiss, squeezing myself further into my hiding place to make space for Ross to fit in, too. "We don't want him to find us!" I grab his hand, almost without thinking, and pull him in between the two bushes so we're wedged between them and the wall, our limbs tangling together once more.

"You're surprisingly competitive," he whispers as we settle down in our new positions, trying to make ourselves comfortable.

"I'm not!" I protest. "I just hate to lose."

"I think that's the same thing," he laughs, and I hush him as the footsteps get closer, placing a finger to his lips.

And they are just as soft as I thought they would be. Smooth and full and perfect. His breathing, I also can't help but notice as my hand reluctantly drops back to my side, suddenly quickens.

And our surroundings have dropped clear away. We could be anywhere right now. The edge of a cliff, about to plunge into oblivion. The surface of the sun, aflame in its heat. It wouldn't matter.

The butterflies have returned to the depths of my belly, and yet the Riverdance cast refuse to leave. They all jostle for position, fighting for space and supremacy, the butterflies determinedly re-forming their conga line and flitting clumsily amongst the Irish dancers. 

Our gazes lock together, the forcefield overwhelming. One second. Two. Heat flares in his eyes, the solar rays contained within his irises briefly flashing brighter in amongst the forest green before it's eclipsed by something darker. 

This is the most intense staring contest I've ever had . . . And I don't care if I win or lose, as long as the prize is the same: Ross Macallister's lips on mine.