Kitabı oxu: «Tycoon's Choice: Kept by the Tycoon / Taken by the Tycoon / The Tycoon's Proposal»

He’s always been driven by the need to succeed,so can he surrender to love?

Tycoon’s Choice

Three sizzling, sparkling romances from three

beloved Mills & Boon authors!

In July 2010 Mills & Boon bring you fourclassic collections, each featuring three favouriteromances by our bestselling authors

THE PRINCES’ BRIDES

by Sandra Marton

The Italian Prince’s Pregnant Bride

The Greek Prince’s Chosen Wife

The Spanish Prince’s Virgin Bride

TYCOON’S CHOICE

Kept by the Tycoon by Lee Wilkinson

Taken by the Tycoon by Kathryn Ross

The Tycoon’s Proposal by Leigh Michaels

THE MILLIONAIRE’S CLUB: JACOB, LOGAN & MARC

Black-Tie Seduction by Cindy Gerard

Less-Than-Innocent Invitation by Shirley Rogers

Strictly Confidential Attraction by Brenda Jackson

SAYING ‘YES!’ TO THE BOSS

Having Her Boss’s Baby by Susan Mallery

Business or Pleasure? by Julie Hogan

Business Affairs by Shirley Rogers

Tycoon’s Choice
Lee Wilkinson
Kathryn Ross
Leigh Michaels

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Kept By The Tycoon

By

Lee Wilkinson

Lee Wilkinson lives with her husband in a three hundred-year old stone cottage in a Derbyshire village, which most winters gets cut off by snow. They both enjoy travelling and recently, joining forces with their daughter and son-in-law, spent a year going round the world ‘on a shoestring’ while their son looked after Kelly, their much loved German shepherd dog. Her hobbies are reading and gardening, and holding impromptu barbecues for her long-suffering family and friends.

Chapter One

THE physiotherapy room at Mayfair’s exclusive Grizedale Clinic was quiet and peaceful, the only sound the muted background roar of London’s traffic. A deep-pile carpet covered the floor, a vase of crimson roses scented the air and a black leather couch was spread with a spotless sheet ready for its next occupant.

At the open window muslin curtains lifted in the slight breeze, allowing light to enter but keeping the lingering summer-in-the-city heat at bay.

Wearing a silky, charcoal-grey suit and an ivory blouse, her long, naturally blonde hair taken up in a coil, Madeleine was sitting at the desk, updating her previous patient’s file, when there was a tap, and the door opened.

Neat in her blue uniform, dark curls secured in the nape of her neck by a gilt clip, Eve came in with some notes.

Eve Collins, along with her brother Noel, had been Madeleine’s friend since their nursery-school days.

It had been Eve who had mentioned this post at the clinic. ‘If you’re interested, Maddy, the woman who usually fills it has taken maternity leave, which means it will only be temporary.

‘But I promise you the surroundings are pleasant, and the money’s good, so this might be just what you need to tide you over until you’ve built up a clientele of patients…

‘That is, if you don’t mind working four evenings a week throughout the summer months…’

‘I don’t mind at all,’ Madeleine had said gratefully, ‘and I’d be glad of both the money and the experience.’

‘I’ll mention your name to Mrs Bond, who deals with personnel.’

On being offered the post, Madeleine had started work immediately. It meant she could no longer see her mother in the evenings, but she had reorganised her daytime routine to fit in visits to the nursing home between her private patients.

Smiling at her friend, Eve put the notes she was carrying on the desk and, her blue eyes gleaming with excitement, hurried into speech. ‘Your last patient for tonight is a new one, a Rafe Lombard…’

Then dropping her voice to a whisper, ‘And boy, is he gorgeous! A real hunk, with all the charm of a young Sasha Distel! Tall, dark and handsome may be an overworked phrase, but there’s no other way to describe him.’

Madeleine sighed and raised her eyes to heaven. ‘The last time you told me someone was gorgeous he turned out to have pimples and dandruff.’

‘Scoff if you must, but this time you’ll have to admit I’m not exaggerating. All the female staff are in a tizzy, married and single alike.

‘When he smiled at Thelma, who you must admit is a bit of a man-hater, she went weak at the knees and dropped all the papers she was carrying.’

‘Well, you’d better send this gorgeous hunk in,’ Madeleine said drily. ‘Otherwise I won’t have time to take a look at him.’

A moment or so later the latch clicked, and, pushing aside the notes she had just scanned through, Madeleine glanced up.

The man who entered the room carried with him an air of power, of self-reliance and quiet authority.

As she looked at this ruggedly handsome, perfect stranger, everything stopped—her breathing, her heart, the blood in her veins…even the world ceased to spin on its axis.

It was as if she’d always known him. As if she had just been marking time, waiting for him to appear. Waiting for him to fill the void she had been only too aware of, even while she was married to Colin.

Rather than rushing into speech, as many of her patients did, he stood quite still, his forest-green eyes fixed on her face.

Dragging air into her lungs, she struggled to pull herself together. Though it seemed an eternity, it could only have been a few seconds before she succeeded in regaining at least some outward semblance of composure.

His effect on her had been pure and immediate and total, and she knew instinctively that she must stay cool and aloof, or be lost.

For perhaps the first time she understood fully why every tutor on the physiotherapy courses—apart from Colin—had found it necessary to warn their pupils not to allow themselves to get emotionally involved with any of their patients.

And, when it came to the crunch, how useless that warning was.

Drawing another deep, steadying breath, she rose to her feet and, daring her knees to tremble, advanced to meet him, holding out her hand. ‘Mr Lombard, I’m Madeleine Knight…’

He took her hand in a firm grip and smiled, he looked deep into her eyes and nearly stopped her heart for a second time.

Her breathing impeded, her throat desert dry, she began, ‘I understand you’ve suffered a possible whiplash injury. When did it happen?’

‘Earlier this evening.’

His voice, low-pitched and slightly husky, shivered along her nerve ends.

Those clear green eyes lingering on her face, he added, ‘Since then I’ve had some discomfort. I don’t think it’s anything to worry about, but I was advised to see a physiotherapist just in case there was any muscle damage.’

In spite of all her efforts her voice wasn’t quite steady as she asked, ‘How did it happen?’

‘I was taking my racing car round a private circuit when the steering went.’ Drily, he added, ‘Straw bales can seem remarkably solid at speed.’

He was still watching her and that steady appraisal threw her far more than any of her previous male patients’ attempts at flirtation.

‘If you could strip to the waist and get up on the couch so I can check it out, please?’ She tried to sound cool and professional, in control.

While Madeleine kept her eyes fixed firmly on his notes he took off his jacket and shirt and draped them over a chair, before hitching himself up to sit on the couch.

Only when he was settled did she look up.

His back was straight and muscular, the line of his spine elegant, as the broad shoulders tapered to a lean waist and narrow hips. His clear, tanned skin carried the glow of health and gleamed like oiled silk, making her want to touch it.

Even the back of his well-shaped head was attractive and sexy, the short dark hair curling a little into the nape of his neck.

Taking a deep breath, she went over to him and, concentrating fiercely on her professional task, with firm but gentle hands began her examination.

Though he must have been well aware of his effect on women, he made no suggestive remarks, nor did he try to chat her up. Instead he sat quietly, obediently raising his arms and flexing his muscles when asked to.

As soon as she had finished the examination, she said briskly, ‘Right, Mr Lombard…’ and moved away to a safer distance.

As he swung his feet to the floor she confirmed, ‘Though there’s some obvious stiffness in the neck and shoulder muscles, luckily there’s no evidence of any real damage. In a few days, if all goes well, you should be back to normal.’

‘That’s great.’ He smiled at her, his smile a white slash across his tanned face.

She watched as his lean cheeks creased, and a fan of fine laughter lines appeared at the corners of those fascinating almond-shaped eyes. Eyes that tilted up at the outer corners. Eyes that would have made even the most ordinary face appear extraordinary. And his face was far from ordinary…

Dragging her gaze away with an effort, and trying to ignore the way his smile had sent her pulses racing madly, she went on, ‘Rest is all it needs until after the weekend. Then I suggest you have a further check just to be on the safe side.’

Looking directly into the clear aquamarine eyes of this cool, fascinating woman, who seemed totally unaware of her own beauty, he asked, ‘So when shall I see you again?’

His intent gaze and the question, phrased as it was, shook her rigid.

But seeing him again, even in a professional capacity, would be far too dangerous. It would be courting disaster.

The clinic’s policy was that a strict protocol should be observed between staff and clients, and, faced with soaring costs at the nursing home, she couldn’t afford to lose this job.

‘Perhaps you’d like to come in again on Monday or Tuesday morning?’

He shook his head. ‘Evening would suit me better.’

Biting her bottom lip, she made a pretence of studying her appointments before she suggested evenly, ‘In that case, suppose you make it Monday evening at the same time?’

Mrs Deering, the plump, middle-aged and happily married part-timer who worked weekends and Monday evenings, could hopefully help him without any threat to her peace of mind or her position.

‘That suits me fine.’

‘Then I’ll say goodnight, Mr Lombard.’

‘Au revoir, Miss Knight. Many thanks.’ He strode to the door and made his way out.

Some element of vitality went with him, and she was left feeling, life goes that way.

With a hollow emptiness in the pit of her stomach she sank down at her desk and, with the image of his dark, attractive face filling her mind, started to update his notes.

The notes finished, she was sitting there gazing into space when the door opened and Eve came back in. ‘I wondered if you were still here…Almost everyone else has gone.’

With nothing to look forward to but a solitary supper, there had been no incentive for Madeleine to hurry home.

‘So what did you think of Rafe Lombard?’

‘He was every bit as gorgeous as you said,’ Madeleine answered as lightly as possible.

Eve looked gratified. ‘And there’s more…’

‘More?’

‘According to Joanne, who always seems to know these things, he inherited Charn Industries from Christopher Charn, his godfather…Which must make him a multimillionaire, and a prime catch.

‘Though so far apparently he’s managed to elude the hook and stay a bachelor. Which is a challenge in itself. A challenge I wouldn’t mind taking up if I got half a chance. After all, a multimillionaire must be worth the risk of getting fired.

‘Ah, well,’ Eve sighed as she continued, ‘I suppose I mustn’t let myself dream. He’s hardly likely to be interested in the likes of me. With those kinds of looks and that amount of charisma, Rafe Lombard must have women queuing up to throw themselves at his feet.’

No doubt Eve was right, Madeleine sighed, and pushed all thoughts of Rafe Lombard firmly to the back of her mind.

‘Finished with these?’ At the other girl’s nod, Eve gathered up the notes and headed for the door. ‘Well, I’m off. I’ve a date with Dave. See you Tuesday. Don’t spend all weekend at the nursing home. Try to get out a bit.’

‘I’ll try.’

Since her mother had suffered severe head injuries in the gas explosion that had wrecked their rented house, she had spent most of her free time by the sick woman’s bedside.

Sitting hour after hour with the corpse-like figure, talking or reading to her, not knowing how much, if anything, her mother understood, had taken a heavy toll on Madeleine.

As had the death of Madeleine’s husband, Colin, in the same tragic accident. An accident she could only blame herself for.

As the weeks turned into months, finding she was no longer any fun, most of her friends had drifted away, and only Eve and Noel had stuck by her wholeheartedly.

Eve, in her usual cheerful, down-to-earth way, had provided an emotional crutch, while Noel had been there for her in a practical capacity.

First he had helped her find somewhere to live, then he had taken her out, chivvied her to eat and done his utmost to raise her spirits while she tried to pick up the pieces of her shattered life.

As a shoulder to cry on, Noel was the first to admit that he was useless. But when she had needed someone to make her laugh, to forget for a short time at least that she needed a shoulder to cry on, he had been ideal.

When he’d gone to work abroad, troubleshooting for an oil company, she had missed him. Missed his unstinting support, his irreverent tongue, his spiky sense of humour and laid-back attitude.

Missed having a man in her life.

Since she had been on her own several men had tried to get on more than friendly terms with her. But, well aware that, in the circumstances, the odds were stacked against any new relationship succeeding, she had steered clear.

After being alone so long it was time to move on, she knew, yet no one had attracted her enough to act as the catalyst to make her want to take the chance.

Until today. And that attraction, fierce though it was, was futile.

Becoming aware that time was slipping past, she closed the window and collected her shoulder-bag before letting herself out through a side-door and heading for the main gates.

On rainy days she caught the bus back to her Knightsbridge flat, but during the dry, settled spell of weather that had lasted for almost a week now, she had enjoyed walking home.

Tonight, however, having reached the imposing gates and turned west along Grizedale Street, she felt oddly weary and dispirited, in no mood for the thirty-minute walk.

She had just drawn level with a midnight-blue limousine that was parked by the kerb, when its rear door opened and a tall, dark-haired figure climbed out.

Dazzled by the low evening sun, she took a moment to realise that the man blocking her way was Rafe Lombard.

Surprise stopped her in her tracks, and as she shielded her eyes to look up at him he said easily, ‘I thought if I hung around a while I might catch you. Have dinner with me?’

He was tall, dwarfing her with his height. If they were standing closer her head would rest on his broad chest.

Confused by the thought, she found herself stammering, ‘N-no, thank you.’

‘Perhaps it was stupid to spring it on you like this, but now I’ve admitted I’m an idiot,’ he laughed, ‘won’t you reconsider and go out with me?’

With a flash of humour, she said, ‘What? Go out with a self-confessed idiot?’

He gave her an appreciative grin. ‘Think of the entertainment value.’

She shook her head. ‘I can bear to give it up.’

‘Surely not!’ he mocked gently.

‘Afraid so.’

‘Go on. I promise I don’t bite.’

Madeleine lowered her eyes. ‘I’m sorry, but I can’t.’

Putting his head on one side, he asked, ‘Why not?’

His face was so full of charm that it took her breath away and turned her very bones to water.

Her voice sounding impeded, she said, ‘It’s against the clinic’s policy for staff and clients to get familiar or meet on a social basis.’

He grimaced at the prim phrasing. ‘If we do get familiar I promise not to breathe a word to a soul.’

‘I’m not dressed for eating out.’

‘You look absolutely fine to me.’ He grinned.

Before she could make any further protest, she found herself drawn towards the car and urged into the back seat.

He slid in beside her, and she went hot all over when his muscular thigh pressed against hers as he reached to fasten first her seat belt and then his own.

Sensing that heated confusion, and warning himself not to rush things, he moved away to leave a little space between them.

With a silent sigh of relief, she glanced at him.

He met her gaze directly. The sun slanting in showed that her long-lashed aquamarine eyes had in their depths a sprinkle of gold dust, and her flawless skin a peach-like down.

His fingers itched to stroke it.

Controlling the urge, he asked lightly, ‘Anywhere in particular you’d like to go?’

Wits scattered, knowing she shouldn’t be here at all, she shook her head. ‘No, I—’

Touching a button, he instructed the chauffeur, ‘Just drive around for a while, Michael.’

As the limousine pulled smoothly away from the kerb, feeling rather as though she’d been hijacked, Madeleine began weakly, ‘What made you…?’

‘Chance my arm?’ Rafe suggested when she hesitated. ‘Sheer determination. If I’d been sure of seeing you again, I might not have rushed things. But when I made a few tactful enquiries I discovered that you wouldn’t be here Monday evening…

‘Which could have meant one of two things: either I was just another patient you didn’t mind if you never saw again…or else someone you could be interested in and felt, because of the clinic’s policy, you should steer clear of. I rather hoped it was the latter…’

Trying to control the surge of excitement that ran through her, she bit her lip.

Though his phrasing had been reasonably cautious, there was an air of confidence about him that suggested he felt fairly sure it was the latter.

And the way she had allowed herself to be shepherded into the car without protest must have reinforced that assumption.

‘It opens up such possibilities…’ He smiled at her. ‘And I’m only too pleased you’re free to explore those possibilities…’

The sexual chemistry between them was like an electrical force she could sense through every pore in her skin.

But recalling what Eve had said about women throwing themselves at his feet, and disinclined to let him believe that she might be one of them, she tried to appear cool and unmoved.

Judging by his face, her strategy hadn’t worked.

In an effort to take the wind out of his sails she looked him in the eye and asked, ‘What makes you so sure I’m free?’

Apparently unruffled, he answered, ‘Well, for one thing, you’re not wearing a ring—’

‘That’s nothing to go by these days.’

‘True. That’s why I waylaid your colleague.’

‘Which colleague?’

‘The pretty, dark-haired girl who first took my details. I happened to see her leaving the clinic and spoke to her. Eve, isn’t it? I gather she’s a good friend of yours.’

Without a blush, he added, ‘I managed to coax quite a bit of information out of her.’

An edge to her voice, Madeleine asked, ‘What kind of information?’

‘I needed to know if you were married or in a steady relationship. When I asked her, she told me you’d lost your husband and been alone for quite a while now. I couldn’t imagine a beautiful woman like you being on your own, but she seemed fairly sure there was no man in your life at the moment.’

When Madeleine merely looked at him, he added, ‘Which means you have no commitments, no one waiting at home for you?’

‘No.’ As though he was willing her, she found herself unable to lie.

‘Then I’d like to think that having dinner with me is marginally more appealing than eating alone?’ he said quizzically.

When she made no immediate response, he urged, ‘Please say it is, for the sake of my fragile ego.’

She smiled in spite of herself, a smile that brought her beauty to life and set those tiny gold flecks in her eyes dancing.

As he stared, entranced, she said a shade tartly, ‘I have the distinct feeling that your ego is robust enough,’ then, throwing caution to the winds, added, ‘But yes, it is. Marginally.’

He laughed. ‘A woman with spirit, I see…So where would you like to go?’

His mouth was beautiful, she thought, at once controlled and sensitive, the lower lip a little fuller than the upper. It was a mouth that tied knots in her stomach.

Somehow she managed, ‘I really don’t mind. Anywhere you choose.’

That was the first hurdle cleared, Rafe thought triumphantly as he instructed the chauffeur, ‘The Xanadu, please, Michael.’

Knowing he shouldn’t touch her—yet—but desperate to do so, he took her hand and, his thumb stroking across her palm, went on softly, ‘I think you’ll agree that it’s the perfect setting for a romantic evening.’

She shivered.

Things were moving fast. Too fast.

Knowing she needed to apply the brakes, she withdrew her hand and, gathering herself, stared resolutely out of the car window.

But she was still breathing unevenly when they drove through tall ornamental gates and drew up outside the celebrated Mayfair restaurant.

Once a private house, the Xanadu was built in the style of a Spanish hacienda, and stood in its own discreetly floodlit gardens. Mature trees and shrubs provided a pleasant backdrop to smooth green lawns, and flowering shrubs climbed the stuccoed walls.

When the middle-aged chauffeur got out to open the door, Rafe told him, ‘Don’t bother hanging around, Michael. Get off home to the wife.’

His look grateful, the man said, ‘Thank you, sir. Goodnight sir, madam…’

Rafe opened the thick smoked-glass door with an easy courtesy that she soon came to know was part of his nature.

Inside the foyer, his jacket was whisked away and they were greeted by the proprietor. ‘Good evening, Mr Lombard…madam…How nice to see you. Your usual table?’

His usual table…Did he make a habit of bringing his women here? Madeleine wondered.

‘Please, Henri.’

The maître d’ appeared to show them through a series of archways to a secluded corner table in the stylish, white-walled restaurant.

Long windows looking onto the gardens were open wide, letting in warm evening air fragrant with the scent of roses and honeysuckle. A few bright stars were appearing, and a thin, silvery disc of moon floated in the blue sky.

As he’d said, it was the perfect setting for a romantic evening.

Watching her glance round, and instantly on her wavelength, he queried, ‘Yes?’

‘Yes,’ she agreed with a smile.

While they sipped an aperitif she tried to concentrate on the menu, but, try as she might, she couldn’t prevent herself looking at him, and whenever he wasn’t watching her her eyes were drawn to his face.

He wasn’t merely good-looking. With a cleft chin, a mouth that was at once ascetic and sensual, a strong nose, high cheekbones, brilliant, thickly lashed green eyes and dark, curved brows, he was intriguing, riveting.

But it was more than his looks. Much more. There was something about the man himself. Something she couldn’t quite put a name to, but something that fulfilled a need in her. It felt right to be with him, as if she had always known him, as if they belonged together.

While they ate an excellent meal he kept the conversation light and general, moving from topic to topic, finding out what interested her, seeking her opinion on the subjects that did.

In spite of her awareness of him, the heated attraction that lay just beneath the surface, she found herself responding with an ease that, when she thought about it later, surprised her.

It wasn’t until they reached the coffee stage that he deliberately moved into more dangerous territory.

Needing to know, and recalling the levelness of her gaze even when she was flustered, he went for the direct approach. ‘Tell me about your husband.’

Every nerve in her body tightening, she said, ‘There’s not much to tell.’

‘What was his name?’

‘Colin. Colin Formby.’

‘You kept your maiden name?’ he queried.

‘Yes. It was what my family wanted,’ she said quietly, taking a sip of her drink.

He raised an eyebrow quizzically. ‘You were an only child?’

‘Yes,’ Madeleine answered.

Rafe paused, leaning back in his chair. ‘What field was your husband in?’

‘Physiotherapy.’

‘When did the pair of you meet?’

‘At university.’ Madeleine lowered her gaze, focusing on anything but Rafe’s probing gaze.

‘You were students together?’

‘No. I was in my final year. Colin was a tutor.’

Rafe was intrigued. ‘So he was older than you?’

‘Eighteen years.’

‘A big gap.’

‘Yes,’ she said shortly. Madeleine had always thought that the age gap, big as it was, wouldn’t have mattered if she had truly loved him.

Rafe could sense her growing discomfort, but having got this far, he decided to press on. ‘How long were the two of you married?’

‘Six months.’

‘Not long.’

‘No,’ Madeleine almost whispered.

Rafe paused, knowing his questions were difficult for her. ‘How did he die?’

‘He was killed in an explosion.’

Quelling the urge to ask any further questions, Rafe commented, ‘Tough.’

Madeleine raised her eyes to his. ‘Yes, it was.’

There was sadness there and some other emotion Rafe couldn’t put a name to. But it wasn’t the utter desolation, the inconsolable grief, of someone who had lost all they held dear. Of that he was sure.

He breathed an inward sigh of relief. The absence of a man in her life had made him fear that she was still in love with her dead husband, but the vibes he was picking up convinced him he was wrong.

Which must make his chances of succeeding, a great deal easier, he thought.

Refilling her coffee-cup, he changed the subject smoothly. ‘What does Madeleine Knight do in her spare time? Are you a secret television addict?’

Relaxing again, she laughed and shook her head. ‘No, I much prefer a book.’

‘Ah, a woman after my own heart! Have you read Matthew Colt’s Funny Business…?’

‘Oh, yes…I loved the part where Joe tries to steal his exwife’s poodle…’

For a little while they talked about the book, laughing over the bits that had amused them the most, before Madeleine remarked, ‘I read somewhere that it’s going to be turned into a play.’

‘So I understand. Should be worth seeing…Do you like the theatre?’

‘Love it.’

‘Have you had a chance to see the new West End play everyone’s talking about?’

‘Beloved Impresario?’ She shook her head and, unwilling to admit she couldn’t really afford to go to the theatre these days, said, ‘I imagine tickets are like gold dust.’

‘I’m sure I could get hold of a couple, if you’d like to see it?’ he asked casually.

Her heart starting to hammer against her ribs, she bit back the urge to accept. She was being foolish in the extreme just having dinner with him. No doubt all he wanted was a brief fling.

But while many women might have jumped at the chance, that kind of thing wasn’t her style.

Plus, it could cost her her job.

Her expression tight, controlled, she refused with formal politeness. ‘I don’t think so, thank you.’

He was having none of it. Green eyes looked into aquamarine. ‘You mean you don’t want to see it? Or you don’t want to see it with me?’

Feeling as though she’d been set down in the middle of a minefield, she found herself wishing the evening were over. Wishing she could escape.

And he knew it.

Lifting her chin, she answered as steadily as possible, ‘I don’t have much spare time, so I don’t want to commit myself.’

He had known from the start that getting anywhere with this woman wouldn’t be easy. Now he realized that it was going to be a great deal harder than he had anticipated.

But he had wanted her on sight, wanted her with a passionate hunger that had surprised and shaken him. And no matter what it took, he vowed, he intended to have her.

But it would be a mistake to come on too strong.

With a graceful movement of his hand he conceded defeat and, his expression bland, steered the conversation into less perilous channels.

Feeling relieved, she followed his lead.

Watching her, he noted that relief and wondered why she was so wary, so reluctant to get involved.

Still, the night was young. There was time to change her mood.

His charming nature soon set her at her ease once more, and by the time they finally rose to leave she could have stayed there all night.

And he knew that too.

Watching her face, soft and dreamy now, he felt a strange tenderness mingling with satisfaction as he escorted her outside.

Moonlit air caressed her skin like velvet, and the stars were so close she felt she only had to stretch out a hand to pluck one from the sky.

The taxi Rafe had ordered was waiting for them, and his hand a warm weight in the middle of her spine, he ushered her towards it.

When they were settled in the back, he said, ‘I understand from Miss Collins that you live in Knightsbridge. Where exactly?’

She gave him the address of her flat and, sliding open the glass panel, he relayed it to the driver.

As they reached the gates and joined the late-night stream of traffic, he looked deep into her eyes. His look was so intent and searching it made her heart beat faster and her breath grow short.

While she stared back at him as though mesmerised, he took her heart-shaped face between his palms and, bending his dark head, touched his mouth to hers.

His kiss, light and fleeting though it was, seemed to melt every bone in her body and filled her with an almost uncontrollable longing.

Drawing back, he said quizzically, ‘There now, that’s what you’ve been fearing all night, but it didn’t hurt a bit, did it?’

When she just looked at him with big, dazed eyes, he said, ‘So shall I do it again?’

Somehow she found her voice and lied jerkily, ‘I’d rather you didn’t.’

‘OK,’ he said, and kissed her again. This time there was nothing light or fleeting about it.

When, without conscious volition, her lips parted beneath the light pressure of his, he deepened the kiss until her head was reeling and her very soul had lost its way.

He could feel her trembling and, sensing that she was his for the taking, he suggested softly, ‘My apartment is quite close to here. Will you come up for a nightcap?’

Somehow she found her voice and objected huskily, ‘It’s late. I should get to bed.’

‘Exactly what I had in mind…’ he murmured.

She didn’t dare look at him.

‘With so much chemistry between us…’ He let the sentence tail off.

But then he didn’t need to say any more. Sex with him would be good, she knew that instinctively. Better than good. Mind-blowing.

Heat running through her, she said, ‘I’ve never gone in for one-night stands,’ and was uncomfortably aware that she sounded stuffy and old-fashioned.

Raising a dark brow, he asked, ‘Who said anything about a one-night stand? I have the distinct feeling that having you in my arms for a million and one nights wouldn’t be enough.’

Struggling to close her mind to the seduction in his voice and words, she looked down at her lap. For once in her life she was sorely tempted to do what Eve was always telling her to do, and live a little.

But the guilt that had been her albatross now became her saviour, reminding her that she couldn’t afford—either financially or emotionally—to get involved with this man.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, she said, ‘I don’t want to go to bed with you. I’d like to go home, please.’

Chapter Two

MADELINE braced herself, expecting him to be angry, to try and persuade her to change her mind, but, showing no signs of temper or disappointment, Rafe said evenly, ‘Very well. If that’s what you want.’

Relieved that he’d accepted her decision, that she’d won so easily, she made an effort to relax her taut muscles.

The relief turned out to be premature, as he returned to the attack.

‘Have lunch with me tomorrow?’ Before she could answer, he swept on, ‘According to the forecast, it’s going to be another lovely day. We could go for a drive, and picnic in an idyllic spot I know.’

‘I’m afraid I can’t.’

‘You’re not working tomorrow, are you?’ he questioned.

‘No. But I’ve a lot to do.’ In a rush, she added, ‘Saturday mornings I clean the flat, and then I do some shopping.’

She always bought a selection of small gifts for her mother, before catching the two-thirty bus to the nursing home.

He raised dark brows. ‘Surely housework and shopping can wait? While this good weather holds, having a drive in the country and a picnic would be a lot more fun.’

Thinking of what had happened to her mother and Colin, and feeling the black taste of guilt in her mouth, she said sharply, ‘There’s a lot more to life than just having fun.’

Then, seeing the shadow that had fallen across his face, and regretting lashing out, she touched his sleeve. ‘I’m sorry. That wasn’t very gracious of me.’

‘No.’ He covered her hand with his. ‘But you don’t have to be gracious with me. I’d much prefer honesty…’

She was surprised. None of the men she’d known had particularly valued honesty.

‘Tell me why the idea of having a little fun upset you so much,’ he pursued.

It wasn’t something she could tell him.

It wasn’t something she could bring herself to tell anyone. Not even Eve and Noel.

Pulling her hand free, she said jerkily, ‘It isn’t the idea of having fun…It’s just that…’ The words tailed off.

‘You really can’t stand the sight of me?’

She should have said yes, and be done with it. Instead, she said, ‘No, it’s nothing like that.’

‘So what is it?’

‘I—I don’t have time for commitments…’

‘I wasn’t asking you to sign your life over to me,’ he said mildly, ‘merely to spend a few fleeting hours in my company. If you’re busy Saturday morning, let’s make it the afternoon.’

‘I’m not free Saturday afternoon. I have to be out by two-thirty.’

‘What time will you be home?’

Naturally truthful, she admitted, ‘About six.’

‘Then have dinner with me.’

Before she could think of an excuse, they were turning into Danetree Court, an old-fashioned block in a tree-lined square.

As they drew up outside her ground-floor flat, fumbling in her bag for her key, she said quickly, ‘Don’t bother to get out.’

Ignoring her injunction, Rafe asked the driver to wait and accompanied her across the pavement. In the amber glow from the street lamp he unlocked the door and handed her back the key.

‘Thank you.’ Dropping it into her bag, she slipped inside and turned to face him.

He was standing so close that she could feel the warmth of his body and his breath stirring her hair.

She glanced up.

His mouth was only inches away. Just the thought of it touching hers again sent shivers down her spine and brought her out in goose-pimples.

She backed a step. ‘And thank you for a very nice evening. I’ve had a lovely time.’

‘I’m pleased you’ve enjoyed it.’ Then, as though it was all settled, ‘I thought we’d go to Annabel’s tomorrow evening

She hesitated, knowing full well she should stop this thing in its tracks but wanting desperately to see him again.

Looking into her face, seeing her waver, he added firmly, ‘I’ll pick you up at seven-thirty.’

Though common sense told her she was being a fool, she agreed, ‘All right.’

When he lifted a quizzical brow at her lack of enthusiasm, her voice unsteady, she added, ‘I’ll look forward to it…Well, goodnight.’

He tilted his head to one side, a gesture she was coming to know. ‘Rafe?’

‘Rafe,’ she echoed obediently. It was the first time she had used his name.

‘Goodnight, Madeleine. Sleep well.’

‘Goodnight,’ she said again.

He didn’t turn away as she had expected. Instead he stood quite motionless, watching her.

She knew she should step back and close the door, but, fascinated by the unnerving stillness that generated so much sexual tension, she was still rooted to the spot when he bent and kissed her.

This time his mouth was not only sweet, but also familiar. His arms went around her, and he drew her close. His kiss was firm and masterful and when he sought to deepen it her lips parted as though there was no help for it.

The last obstacle removed, his mouth began to move against hers in a sizzling kiss that melted her last defences as easily as a blowtorch melted butter.

He tasted like ambrosia. Her stomach clenched and her heart began to race wildly, while desire dried her throat and ran like red-hot lava through her bloodstream.

She was no longer capable of thinking straight when, a few seconds later, he freed her mouth and, his voice husky, murmured, ‘You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. I can’t wait to feel your naked body against mine, to make love to you…’

Looking up into his shadowy face, she knew she ought to send him away. But she couldn’t.

‘Is that what you want?’ he murmured.

She nodded silently and, her breathing shallow and ragged, waited impatiently while he went to pay off the taxi.

He came back and, taking her chin in his hand, lifted her face and began to kiss her again, kisses sweeter than wine, as he eased them inside and closed the door.

In the gloom, he continued to kiss her while he removed the clasp that held her hair. She heard his little murmur of satisfaction as the silky mass tumbled around her shoulders and he ran his fingers through it.

Then his hands slipped to the warmth of her nape and began to travel over her, tracing her shoulders, her ribcage, her slender waist, the flare of her hips and the curve of her firm buttocks.

‘I’ve never met a women I wanted so much,’ he murmured against her lips.

His touch was all she had ever hoped for or needed, and above his softly spoken words she could hear his heart beating. Or was it her own?

Caught up in a whirl of sensual delight, on a flight to the stars, she was hearing things, tasting things, feeling things that she had never heard or tasted or felt before.

While he continued to kiss her he unbuttoned her blouse and, unhooking the fastening of her bra, slipped one hand inside. Her breast fitted neatly into his palm. Enjoying the warm weight of it, he brushed his thumb over the velvety nipple and felt it firm beneath his touch. Shudders of pleasure running through her, she gasped deep in her throat. Hearing that muffled sound and interpreting it correctly, he bent his head to take the other nipple in his mouth and suckle until her whole body was on fire with longing.

When she could stand no more she pushed him away and, taking his hand, urged him towards the bedroom.

As the door closed behind them, the small voice of reason warned her that she was acting completely out of character. Acting like a fool.

But, having jumped into the deep end, she was in over her head and unwilling to be saved. Brushing reason aside, she moved to close the slatted window blind and shut out the night.

Turning to him, she saw the gleam of his eyes in the semidarkness before he switched on the bedside lamp, flooding that part of the room in amber light.

On the dressing table close by was a framed snapshot of a smiling, fair-haired man.

Reaching out, Rafe picked it up and, his voice a little wary, asked, ‘Is this your husband?’

She answered distractedly, ‘Oh, no, that’s Noel. He’s out in the Middle East. In the oil fields.’

‘An ex-lover?’

‘A friend.’

Rafe replaced the photograph with care, and turned to gaze at her.

She had expected him to skip over the preliminaries and hurry her into bed, but with no suggestion of haste he said softly, ‘I want to look at you. Take off your clothes for me.’

As though under a spell, she began to take off her suit and blouse. But modesty once ingrained was hard to dislodge, and, aware as she was of his appreciative gaze, the lick of flame in his eyes, her cheeks were hot as she stripped off her panties.

When she straightened and stood before him naked, he made a half-smothered sound deep in his throat, a very male sound, and without taking his eyes off her for an instant began to divest himself of his own shoes and clothing.

As she watched him discard his dark silk boxer shorts, it was her turn to smother the gasp that rose in her throat. Too turned on to move, she swallowed hard, her stomach tightening with anticipation.

‘Come here,’ he said.

When she obeyed, he lifted her onto the bed and stretched out beside her. Then, propping himself on one elbow, he leaned over her and, his hand fondling her breast, he said softly, ‘You’re exquisite. The loveliest thing I’ve ever seen.’

Colin had been an unexciting lover, with a low sex drive and little skill. Not only had he preferred to make love in the dark, but also he had never told her she was beautiful, nor had he caressed her in that way.

Rather, he had avoided touching her, as though he found the idea of enjoying sex something to be slightly ashamed of.

Rafe obviously had no such inhibitions.

Inhaling the fragrance of her skin, he murmured, ‘You smell as fresh and delightful as apple blossom,’ before his mouth began to roam over her.

She shivered deliciously as his unshaven jaw rasped against the smooth skin of her flat stomach.

When he had kissed and tasted every inch of her golden flesh, his mouth returned to pleasure her breasts while his fingers found the nest of pale, silky curls and began to explore further. Shivering, she gave herself up to the sensations those skilful fingers were engendering.

It wasn’t long, however, before the exquisite torment grew too much to bear and she writhed under the lash of pleasure while desire rode her, digging in its spurs so that she began to make little whimpering sounds deep in her throat.

He paused, then, drawing her back against him, spoonfashion, he eased her hips towards him before returning his hands to her breasts.

Just at first he was careful, as though gauging her reaction. Then he began to thrust more strongly, building a tension that spiralled and grew until the sensations, almost too great to be borne, peaked, and stars exploded inside her head.

Hearing her little gasping cries with pleasure, he held her there, drawing out the moment, until he too was caught up in the surging excitement.

For a while they lay together quietly while their heart rates and breathing returned to normal. Then he drew away, and, turning her to face him, gathered her close and kissed her tenderly.

Knowing she’d been married, he had been somewhat thrown, partly by her obvious shyness, and partly by her instinctive reaction to their lovemaking. Her obvious pleasure had been followed by what he could have sworn was gratitude. Frowning, he wondered if her husband had been clumsy and lacking skill, or simply uncaring.

Seeing that frown, she asked a shade anxiously, ‘I hope you weren’t disappointed?’

‘Anything but,’ he assured her.

Then, picking up her very real concern, he kissed her and, leaning his forehead against hers, told her with soft emphasis, ‘You’re very special, and I’m immensely flattered that you let me into your bed.’

Feeling her relax, with a little sigh of relief he settled her head on his shoulder. She felt limp as arag doll. The power and intensity of his lovemaking had left her exhausted, totally drained, yet at the same time full of bliss, brimming with rapture.

Never for a moment had she imagined love could be like this—and yes, it was love—never imagined that this strength of feeling could take root and blossom so quickly. It wasn’t just the result of sexual deprivation, nor was it simply the chemistry between them. This was different. This was more. Much more.

They seemed to meet on every level, physical, mental and emotional. And as she slid into sleep she found herself thinking that if she searched the world over she would never find a man who was more right for her.

The same thought was in her mind when she stirred and surfaced slowly, her body relaxed and satisfied, a quiet happiness singing through her.

She was in love, truly in love, for the very first time. It was a big risk, letting herself fall so hard and so fast for a man she had only just met.

But she couldn’t say she hadn’t known what she was doing. Well aware that she was vulnerable, well aware that she was teetering on the brink of falling for him, well aware that making love with him could easily push her over, she had walked into it with her eyes wide open.

And it had been wonderful beyond words. She had never felt so utterly content. Not even her guilt over Colin could spoil things, or alter the way she felt about Rafe.

Sighing, she stretched out a hand to touch him, but she was alone. Jolted wide awake, she opened her eyes to find he was standing by the bed fully dressed, a cup of tea in his hand.

‘I’m sorry to wake you, but I thought it best if I left early.’

He set the cup on the bedside cabinet and smiled down at her. The blind was still closed, but even in the half-light his thickly lashed green eyes were brilliant, and with his hair a little rumpled, a dark stubble adorning his jaw, he looked irresistibly virile and attractive.

Her heart doing strange things, she pushed herself into a sitting position.

‘What I’d really like to do,’ he went on, ‘is stay and make love to you until such a time as the sight of a strange man leaving your flat wouldn’t raise a single eyebrow…’

Just his words made her go hot all over and sent a surge of desire running through her.

‘But bearing in mind what you said about having a lot to do, I’m restraining the urge…’

Disappointment pricked sharp as a thorn.

‘I’ll pick you up at seven-thirty.’

He stooped and kissed her, a lingering kiss, as if he couldn’t bear to leave her. She was on the verge of begging him to stay when he straightened and strode to the door.

An instant later he was gone.

For a moment or two she felt empty and lost—bereft—as if the whole thing had been nothing but a wonderful dream. But the cup of tea sitting by her elbow was tangible proof, not only that he was no dream, but also that he’d cared enough to think about her. Gladness returning, she reached for the cup and took a sip. Only the day to get through and she would be seeing him again.

Excitement and anticipation buoying her up, the morning passed quite quickly, and even her afternoon visit to the nursing home didn’t seem quite so fraught as usual. For the first time in what seemed an age, happiness was crowding out guilt. Or at least masking it.

By a quarter past seven that evening, showered, dressed and lightly made-up, Madeleine was ready and waiting. Standing by the window, she watched as a silver Porsche drew up by the kerb promptly at seven-thirty, and Rafe jumped out. He looked breathtakingly handsome in well-cut evening clothes, and she wondered if she was underdressed for Annabel’s.

Taking deep breaths to calm herself, she let him ring the bell before picking up her evening purse and going to open the door.

He smiled at her. ‘Ready?’

Madeleine nodded. ‘Will I do?’ she asked a shade anxiously.

His glance swept over her from head to toe.

She was wearing a simple black dress that clung lovingly to her slender curves and set off her flawless, pale gold skin. Her blonde hair was taken up in a gleaming coil that served to emphasise her pure bone structure, and in her neat lobes were small gold hoops.

A light in his eyes, he said, ‘You look stunning,’ and bent his dark head to kiss her.

Her heart leapt in her breast, and she knew he held everything she was, everything she hoped for, in the palm of his hand.

It was a beautiful evening, warm and still, and she could smell roses in the heart of town as she was escorted to the car.

When she was settled, he slid in beside her and started the engine. As they left the square behind them and joined the evening queue of traffic, he queried lightly, ‘Missed me?’

The true answer was yes, but she said primly, ‘I haven’t had time.’

‘So what have you been doing all day?’

‘Nothing very exciting. I spent most of the morning cleaning and shopping.’

‘But you went out in the afternoon? Anywhere nice?’

Flustered by the question, she said, ‘No, not particularly.’ She had meant to sound casual, but it came out as defensive, and she bit her lip.

Intrigued by her tone, he wondered what she was hiding. Deciding not to push it—he’d find out when he knew her better—he changed tack.

‘What made you decide to become a physiotherapist?’

She relaxed, glad to chat about her work. ‘You might call it following in my father’s footsteps. Physiotherapy was his chosen profession, and it was widely acknowledged that he had healing hands. When I was a child he became prominent in his field, and so much in demand that he turned into a workaholic.’

‘So you didn’t see much of him?’ Rafe questioned.

‘No.’ There was a remembered hint of sadness. ‘When he wasn’t at his consulting rooms in Baker Street, he was often in the States giving lecture tours.’

‘Why the States? Any particular reason?’

‘My father’s American by birth. He was brought up and had done his early training in Boston.’

‘So you’re half American? Any relatives over there?’ he asked.

‘Just an aunt and uncle we used to visit. They were always delighted to see us.’ Madeleine smiled as she reminisced.

Rafe asked no further questions, and they lapsed into silence until the Porsche drew up outside the famous basement entrance in Berkeley Square.

When he had helped her out, he handed the keys to the doorman and they made their way down the steps and in through a door at the bottom.

‘Good evening, Mr Lombard. Nice to see you.’ Clearly well-known, Rafe was welcomed inside.

As he signed in he was greeted by a couple who looked inclined to attach themselves, until he said with smooth politeness, ‘Well, if you’ll excuse us?’ and led Madeleine away.

When they were out of earshot, he added, ‘Jo and Tom are very nice, but I wanted you all to myself tonight.’

She flushed with pleasure.

There was a mere handful of people in the bar, even fewer in the restaurant, and the dance floor was empty, its dark mirrors reflecting nothing.

‘It doesn’t get busy until later, so we’ll have plenty of time to dine in comfort and then we can dance later.’

Just the thought of being held in his arms made her temperature rise even more.

When they were settled at a table and had been given menus, he asked, ‘Is there anything in particular you fancy?’

Wanting only to watch his face in the candlelight, she shook her head. ‘You order for me.’

The order given, they were sipping an aperitif when he reached across the table and, taking her slim but strong hand, examined it.

‘You said your father had healing hands. Have you?’

‘I’m afraid not,’ she said honestly. ‘Nor have I my father’s sheer dedication.’

‘So you’re not a committed career woman?’ He glanced up and met her gaze.

‘Not really. I could be just as happy being a wife and mother.’

‘At the risk of sounding chauvinistic, I find that highly commendable in this materialistic age. Most of the women I’ve met have been career-orientated. Being ‘just’ a wife and mother comes a very poor second to their independence. No wonder so many men feel threatened…’

His white smile flashed suddenly. ‘Don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t want a brainless, compliant woman, no matter how beautiful she was, nor would I want a clinging vine…’

‘What would you want?’ She laughed.

‘An intelligent, independently minded woman who was capable of standing beside me as my equal. Yet a woman who would be willing to put her home and family before her career.’

Had he stayed single because he couldn’t find the right kind of woman? she wondered. Or was that just an excuse so he could go on playing the field?

As though he knew exactly what she was thinking, he added, ‘Someone with all those qualities isn’t easy to find. That’s one of the reasons I haven’t been in a hurry to marry.’

‘Then you intend to?’ The instant the words were out she wished them unsaid, and the warm colour rose in her cheeks.

A hint of amusement in his voice, he said, ‘Oh yes, I fully intend to…’

To Madeleine’s relief the arrival of the first course provided a welcome diversion, and during the rest of what proved to be a very enjoyable meal Rafe kept the conversation light and general.

They had reached the coffee stage before he returned to more personal matters, by asking, ‘Do you enjoy your work at the clinic?’

‘Yes. Though of course it’s just a temporary post, and part-time.’

‘You have private patients as well?’

‘Some. But by the time this job ends I’m hoping to have more,’ Madeleine said, taking a sip of her coffee.

‘Do you treat children?’ Rafe asked.

‘Oh, yes. At the moment I’m visiting a young boy who injured his knee playing football. Why do you ask?’

‘My sister, Diane, and her husband, Stuart, have a problem. A couple of months ago their ten-year-old daughter, Katie, was quite badly injured when she fell from her horse. Since leaving hospital Katie has been treated at home, but it seems she’s grown to dislike her present physiotherapist and has refused to have any further treatment. Would you be willing to take a look at her?’

A little flustered, Madeleine agreed, ‘Of course. If you think I’ll be able to help.’

‘If Katie takes to you, and I can’t imagine she won’t, you could be the answer to all our prayers…More coffee?’

‘I don’t think so, thank you.’

Rafe smiled a dazzling smile and asked. ‘Then would you like to dance?’

The club had started to fill up, and there were several couples already on the floor.

Madeleine’s eyes lit up. ‘Yes, I’d love to.’

Even in her own ears her words sounded eager and breathless, and as he took her hand and led her onto the floor she wondered where the old cool and composed Madeleine had gone.

Though it was a long time since she had been on a dance floor, she had always enjoyed dancing. But this was something special.

He was a good dancer, light on his feet and with a purely masculine grace. As he held her to his heart, his cheek against her hair, they moved round the floor as though made for each other.

For Madeleine the rest of the evening passed in a kind of dream as, without speaking, just enjoying the music and the closeness, they danced every dance.

When the floor started to get crowded, Rafe murmured in her ear, ‘About ready to go?’

She nodded, a little shiver of excitement running down her spine. She hadn’t allowed herself to think any further than dining and dancing at Annabel’s, but now the evening was over and the night lay ahead.

When she was settled in the Porsche, he turned to look directly into her eyes. ‘I shared your bed last night. Will you come to Denver Court tonight and share mine?’

A betraying catch in her voice, she agreed lightly, ‘That seems only fair.’

As they drew up outside the imposing tower-block complex and he helped her out, one of the night security staff came hurrying over.

‘Evening, Mr Lombard…Anything I can do for you?’

‘Could you put the car away, please, Jim?’ A folded note changed hands.

His arm around her waist, Rafe escorted Madeleine into the building and across the pale marble-floored foyer to the lift.

On the top floor they stepped out into a wide, luxuriously carpeted area with a white and gold decor and extravagant arrangements of fresh flowers.

When he let them into his apartment and flicked on the lights, she saw that he occupied one of the corner penthouse suites. From the spacious and attractive L-shaped living room, French windows led onto a walled patio and garden.

She gasped as she looked around her, taking in the luxurious surroundings. Rafe smiled and bent to touch his lips to the warmth of her nape, before asking, ‘Would you like a nightcap?’

Shivering a little at the caress, and impatient for the pleasures to come, she shook her head.

Taking her hand in his, he led her through to a large en suite bedroom with pale walls and a thundercloud-blue carpet and curtains.

Opening a connecting door into a similar room decorated in ivory tones, he suggested, ‘If you’d like to use the guestroom facilities you’ll find everything there you need.’

In the well-appointed bathroom there was indeed everything a guest could want, including slippers and a white towelling robe.

She found herself wondering how often he brought his women back here.

It was an uncomfortable thought, and she pushed it hastily away. This might only be another brief and casual affair as far as he was concerned, but for her it was special, a once-in-a-lifetime love affair, no matter how short a time it lasted.

When she had cleaned her teeth and showered, she brushed out her long, silky hair and, a little shy, put on the towelling robe before making her way back to Rafe’s room.

He was just emerging from his bathroom, stark naked apart from a towel slung round his neck that he was using onehanded to rub his dark hair.

As she hesitated in the doorway, tossing aside the towel, he held out both hands. ‘Come here.’

Loving that touch of arrogance, she went to him, and was rewarded with a lingering kiss.

He had shaved, and she could smell the fresh, spicy scent of his cologne. Eyes still closed, she put up a hand and stroked his smooth cheek.

‘Mmm…’ she murmured.

Nuzzling his face against her throat, he said, ‘I intend to kiss every inch of you, and bristles can play havoc with delicate skin.’

Untying the belt of her robe, he slid his hands inside and, like a blind man reading Braille, ran his fingers over her slender body, savouring the purely tactile pleasure.

It was strangely erotic, and by the time his hands returned to her breasts she was quivering all over. When his thumbs brushed lightly across the sensitive nipples, she gasped.

As he continued to tease, soon aroused to fever-pitch, she pressed her hips against his.

But, refusing to be hurried, he said, ‘We’ve got all night. Plenty of time to take things slow and easy, to ravish you, in the best sense of the word.’

She wondered how he could be so patient, so willing to wait for his own pleasure.

As though reading her mind, he said softly, ‘Your body responds so delightfully to my every touch, it makes the pleasure mutual.’

He put his mouth to her breast and laved the nipple with his tongue. ‘You like that, don’t you?’

She shuddered, and, holding his dark head between her hands, breathed, ‘Yes, but I don’t think I can stand much more…’

‘Oh, I think you can.’

When he finally lifted her onto the bed and stretched out beside her, she was almost mindless, poised on the brink.

He stoked a caressing hand down her slender figure and, finding the warm, silky skin of her inner thighs, used a single long finger to tip her over. Her whole body bucked convulsively, and she lay quivering and helpless until the exquisite sensations began to die away.

She felt a little triste. She had wanted to make love with him, to share the experience, to know he was feeling the same delight and joy she was feeling.

When she opened dazed eyes, he was watching her.

Smiling at her, as though he understood perfectly, he said, ‘It’s all right,’ and with those skilful hands he proceeded to reawaken the desire she had thought sated.

Then slowly, very slowly, as though to draw every last ounce of pleasure out of it, he made love to her, building up a molten core of heat, a spiralling tension, until the tension snapped and sent them both rocketing into space.

She drifted back to earth to find his dark head was lying on her breast and his hand holding hers. It was one of the sweetest sensations she had ever felt.

Her heart overflowing with love and gratitude she lay quietly enjoying their closeness until he moved away and, turning onto his back, gathered her against him and settled her head on his shoulder.

Chapter Three

AFTER a night OF love-making, it was almost ten o’clock when Madeleine woke. She was alone in the big bed, but just as that fact registered the door opened and Rafe came in carrying a tray.

His dark hair was still damp from the shower, and he was wearing a short, navy-blue silk robe. ‘Good morning.’ He smiled lazily as she pushed herself upright. ‘I thought we’d be decadent and have breakfast in bed.’

He put the tray on the bedside table and, leaning over to kiss her, remarked wickedly, ‘After the night we’ve just spent, I don’t know how you can look so beautiful and fresh.’

‘I’m happy,’ she said simply. She had never thought she would say those words again.

He smiled at her. ‘Happiness suits you.’

As he sat on the bed and fed her toast and scrambled eggs and coffee, his voice casual, Rafe suggested, ‘Tell me some more about yourself.’

Instantly uneasy, she said, ‘There’s not a great deal to tell.’

Sensing that unease, and wondering what was causing it, he decided to go slowly. ‘Do your parents still live in London?’

‘They got divorced when I was twelve.’

‘Presumably it was your father’s dedication to work that caused the break-up.’

‘Yes. Though my mother loved him passionately, eventually she got fed up with him never being there for us.’ Madeleine turned her head away from him.

‘Was it an amicable parting?’

‘As amicable as these things ever can be.’

Rafe probed further, ‘But you must have missed him?’

‘Yes, I did, and I don’t think my mother ever really got over it.’ She felt her eyes begin to water, but she smiled as she looked up at Rafe.

‘She didn’t marry again?’

‘No. I believe she still loves him. Certainly there was never anyone else.’

‘Do you still see him?’

Madeleine shook her head. ‘Some time after the divorce he remarried and went to live in Los Angeles. We haven’t had any contact for years.’

Then, wanting to escape from the spotlight, she said quickly, ‘Now it’s your turn to tell me something about yourself.’

His face straight, he replied, ‘There’s not a great deal to tell.’ He laughed and kissed her, before beginning, ‘I lost my father when I was twelve. A year after he died, my mother married again. Her new husband was an ex-army officer.’

‘Did you all get on as a family?’

‘Diane, who’s seven years older than me, was away at university, so that left just the three of us, and unfortunately my stepfather and I didn’t get along. I resented him taking my father’s place and showed it, which, with hindsight, must have made life extremely difficult for my mother. My stepfather was a strict disciplinarian and after he’d whacked me a couple of times for what he termed insolence, I began to seriously hate his guts.’ Rafe paused for a moment before continuing.

‘Things went from bad to worse, and the whacks changed to beatings. On the final occasion, when he began to lay into me with his belt, my mother tried to intervene. He pushed her out of the way so roughly that she stumbled and fell. I saw red and went for him. I wasn’t quite fourteen at the time.’

Her aquamarine eyes full of concern, Madeleine asked, ‘What happened?’

Matter-of-factly, he said, ‘I managed to split his lip before ending up in Casualty.’

As she winced he added, ‘I think he may have been genuinely sorry afterwards. But it was patently obvious that things couldn’t go on like that, so I was hastily packed off to live with my godparents.’

Madeleine reached out to touch his arm. ‘Were you very upset?’

‘For a time I was very bitter,’ he admitted. ‘Though my godparents were amazing.’

‘Had they any children of their own?’

‘One daughter, Fiona. But they had always hoped for a son, and were only too delighted to have me.’

‘Fiona wasn’t jealous at all?’

His face softened. ‘Oh, no. We got to be very close. In fact for a while she hero-worshipped me. She was nearly three years younger than me, and I always called her my kid sister.’

‘So it was a good move?’

‘Oh, yes. The whole family treated me exactly like their own, and I was very happy with them until I went up to Oxford. My godfather died eighteen months ago and it was like losing a father…

‘But that’s enough doom and gloom—let’s talk about something else. What shall we do for the rest of the day? Would you like to—’

‘I can’t,’ she broke in desperately. On Sundays she always had lunch at the nursing home, and spent the rest of the afternoon and evening there. ‘I mean, I’m already going out.’

When she made no effort to elaborate, he asked, ‘What time do you need to start?’

‘In about an hour.’

‘Then as soon as you’ve showered and dressed, I’ll take you home.’ Though his voice was even, she knew he was vexed by her reticence, but she couldn’t bring herself to tell him about her mother. He was sure to ask questions that, burdened with guilt, she didn’t want to answer.

His profile cool and aloof, he drove through the Sunday streets in silence. She longed to break that silence, but could think of nothing to say.

When he drew up outside her flat and, still without speaking, helped her out, she felt a sudden panic in case this was the end.

What would she do if he simply drove away?

As though to keep her guessing, he unlocked her door and handed her back the key, before asking, ‘Are you free tomorrow evening?’

‘Yes,’ she said eagerly.

‘Then if you like, I’ll take you to see Katie and her parents. I’ve already mentioned your name to them.’

‘There’s just one thing…’ Madeleine began a shade awkwardly.

Reading her hesitation, he said, ‘You prefer to keep your private and professional lives separate?’

‘Yes, I do.’

‘That’s fine by me. All they know up to now is that you’re the physiotherapist who checked me out, and we can keep it that way. I’ll pick you up at six-thirty, and afterwards we can have dinner.’

Madeleine liked Rafe’s sister and brother-in-law on sight. Over drinks on the sunny terrace of their Surrey home she learnt that Diane, with her brother’s seal-dark hair and green eyes, was a lawyer, and Stuart, a pleasant, easy-going man, worked as an architect.

They both doted on their only daughter and were over the moon when Katie took an immediate liking to Madeleine, and agreed to have further treatment.

The liking was mutual. Madeleine instantly lost her heart to the quiet, sensitive child, with her long dark hair, her big brown eyes and shy smile.

Over the next few weeks, with regular treatments, Katie’s condition improved enormously, and a strong bond developed between her and Madeleine.

Rafe was delighted for everyone’s sake, but he stayed well out of things and, though his and Madeleine’s relationship grew and blossomed, it was never mentioned.

They spent as much time with one another as possible, dancing, dining, talking, simply being together.

Several times, while the good weather held, he barbecued for them on his patio. Afterwards, safe from prying eyes, they made sweet, delectable love in the sun.

As the days and weeks passed and Madeleine got to know him better, her happiness increased. Apart from his physical attributes and his prowess as a lover, he proved to be eventempered and generous, an intelligent, stimulating companion, always sensitive to her needs.

She knew that never in her lifetime would she find another man who suited her so well, and, eternally grateful, she said many a prayer of thanks to the goddess of destiny for the miracle that had brought him into her life.

Only her visits to the nursing home cast a shadow. Rafe said nothing openly, but she knew he was ruffled by her unexplained absences. Even a little jealous of whom she might be meeting.

Each time she tried to tell him the truth guilt made the words stick in her throat, and she chickened out. But one of these days, she promised herself, she would find the courage to tell him everything.

In the meantime, though she still spent most of Sunday at the nursing home, she had changed her Saturday visit to the morning—struggling with the shopping and housework when she could—to leave the afternoon free.

That Saturday afternoon they had something very special planned. Jonathan Cass was one of her favourite artists, and Rafe had accepted an invitation to a one-day private showing of Cass’s new, and so far unseen, works.

He had arranged to pick her up at twelve-thirty so they could have lunch together before going on to the Piccadilly gallery, and she left the nursing home earlier than usual to make certain she was home in good time.

She was only just back when the phone rang.

Sounding tense, unlike himself, Rafe said, ‘Some urgent business has cropped up. Would you mind very much if I picked you up after lunch?’

‘Of course not.’

Sounding relieved, he said, ‘Then I’ll see you about two.’

It had been a damp, grey morning, and by two o’clock it was pelting down with rain.

Rafe was always on time—she had never known him to be late—and as the hands of the clock moved with maddening slowness—two-fifteen, two-thirty, a quarter to three—and he failed to arrive, she began to get anxious and jumpy.

As she stood staring blindly out into the wet, windswept square, watching the raindrops run down the windowpane like tears, she saw the ghost of his face blurry in the glass and felt a queer foreboding.

Oh, dear God, suppose something had happened to him? The panicky thought made her heart begin to race uncomfortably fast.

Don’t be a fool, she chided herself. Of course nothing had happened to him. No doubt he’d just been held up. But if that was the case, why hadn’t he phoned? It would have only taken a moment to reassure her.

After waiting until three-thirty without hearing from him she called his mobile, only to find it was switched off. In desperation she tried his flat at Denver Court, but it rang hollow and empty, until the answering machine picked up her call.

By the time five o’clock arrived, convinced that her worst fears had been realised, she was a mass of jangling nerves. She was wondering agitatedly whom she could contact, when she saw his car pull up outside. The rush of relief was so great that it made her feel giddy and light-headed.

He had his own key by now, and she stood, her knees trembling so much they would hardly support her, while he crossed the streaming pavement and let himself in. She wanted to run to him, but she could neither move nor speak.

‘I’m sorry I couldn’t get here any sooner.’ As he spoke he took off his coat and hung it up.

When he turned she noticed some angry-looking marks on his face, as though a cat had raked its claws down his cheek.

‘What have you done to your face?’

‘It’s just a scratch,’ he said dismissively.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, she remarked, ‘I wondered what had happened to you.’

‘I was unavoidably detained.’

She waited for some kind of explanation, but he said nothing further.

After so much anxiety, his casual dismissal of the subject caught her on the raw.

Seeing her mouth tighten, he said, ‘We can still go to the gallery this evening.’

‘It’s not that,’ she assured him stiffly. ‘I was worried to death about you. I just wish you’d given me a ring.’

‘I’m afraid my mobile went on the blink.’

The obvious excuse did nothing to help matters.

‘Forgive me?’ Seeing her set face, he smiled. ‘Oh, dear, obviously not.’

His eyes fixed on her mouth, he bent his head to kiss her.

She moved back a step.

He sighed. ‘And here I’ve been, waiting all day to kiss you. Waiting all day just to touch you, to take you to bed and make love to you.’

Angry with him for his cavalier attitude, she looked at him stonily.

‘In that case, I’ll have to resort to a spot of friendly persuasion.’

Catching the lapels of her jacket, he pulled her towards him. Then, one hand beneath her chin, he lifted her face to meet his kiss.

It wasn’t until his lips touched hers that she realised just how urgent was her need to have him kiss her. Just how much she needed to be reassured that he was really here, to be with her.

But, unwilling to let him know it, she tried her utmost to hide how she felt. Though she badly wanted to, she refused to put her arms round his neck, refused to melt against him as she normally did.

Even so, they were standing so close she could feel the warmth of his body, the ripple of his muscles, the firmness of his flesh.

His hand slid up and down her spine in a restless movement that told her he didn’t like restraining himself, but was doing it anyway while he waited for some sign that he was forgiven.

After a time, when none was forthcoming, he lifted his mouth enough to murmur huskily, ‘Are you persuaded yet?’

Her anger having drained away, she answered, ‘Not yet; keep trying.’

His lips curved into a smile before his arms closed around her and he kissed her again.

Unable to resist him any longer, she reached up slowly, her fingertips tenderly tracing the scratches, before her palm cupped the hard planes of his cheek.

She heard his indrawn breath before he covered her hand with his own and, carrying it to his lips, kissed the palm.

Her whole being melted with love for him, and she wondered, how on earth had she managed to live before she met him?

When she tugged her hand free he frowned, a frown that changed to a glint of satisfaction as her fingers began to undo his shirt buttons.

It was only later that she realised she ought to have pressed him for an explanation first, but how could she, when so many times she had failed to give him one?

His need urgent, he swept her up in his arms and carried her through to the bedroom. When he had swiftly undressed her and lifted her onto the bed, he stripped off his own clothes.

Though she had seen him naked many times, she caught her breath yet again. He was a magnificent male animal, and she was his chosen mate. It was as wonderfully simple, as down to earth, as that.

Mostly he was a slow, skilful lover who took his time and enjoyed pleasuring her, building up the intensity until often she was gasping and writhing, hardly able to bear all the exquisite sensations he was engendering.

But now he wasted no time on foreplay, and trembling enough to rouse him even more, she accepted his weight eagerly.

She could hear his quickened breathing, feel the thump of his heart, and knowing she had caused it gave her pleasure.

Briefly she was pliant beneath him, waiting. Then she was taut as a drawn bow string as he drove hard and fast, carrying them both to a shattering climax.

She experienced a complete losing of self, then a gradual gathering back as they lay in an erotic tangle of limbs, both breathing as if they’d just run a race.

After a while he lifted himself away and, leaning over her, brushed a loose tendril of silky blonde hair away from her flushed cheek.

‘All right?’ His expression held a mixture of concern and tenderness.

‘Of course,’ she assured him. ‘Why shouldn’t I be?’

‘Well, I wasn’t very gentle.’

His words made her think, made her suddenly appreciate that normally he was careful with her. But something—that brief touch of discord perhaps?—had thrown him off balance.

‘You don’t have to treat me like porcelain,’ she told him a shade tartly. ‘I won’t break.’

Suddenly he was laughing. ‘Are you trying to tell me you prefer it hard and fast to slow and easy? Well, well, well…’

‘I’m not trying to tell you anything of the kind. I like…’ She broke off and, feeling her colour rise, tried to wriggle free.

Putting an arm either side of her, he said silkily, ‘Do go on. It’s about time you opened up and told me. What do you like? I’m always willing to oblige.’

He was in a strange mood, she thought, and accused, ‘You’re trying to embarrass me.’

‘Succeeding too, if the way you’re blushing is anything to go by,’ he said arrogantly.

Pushing herself up, she made another, more determined, attempt to escape.

He foiled her by the simple expedient of pulling her elbows from beneath her.

‘Don’t be shy. Tell me.’

‘Rafe, please…’

‘That’s my intention as soon as I know what pleases you the most…’

When she remained silent, he sighed. ‘Oh, well, if you’re determined not to tell me, I’ll just have to experiment and make my own judgement…’

‘Not now.’ She tried once more to sit up.

Pushing her gently back, he said, ‘Now.’

Secure in the knowledge that all hunger was sated, she said, ‘You’ll be wasting your time.’

‘I don’t think so.’

She quivered like a plucked string under his hands as he effortlessly re-aroused her desire. Soon she was spinning in some crazy world of sublime sensations while his every touch, his seeking mouth and tongue added more…

When finally she lay limp and emotionally drained, he gathered her close and kissed her. ‘Sleep now.’

After a short time she awoke refreshed to find he was up and dressed.

‘If we have a quick meal at the Xanadu we’ve still got time to go to the gallery.’

‘We don’t have to go.’

‘I know you want to.’ Bending down to kiss her, he added, ‘And I don’t want you to miss out on anything that gives you pleasure.’

As she showered and dressed, she thought—as she’d thought before and was to think many times in the coming weeks—how lucky she was to have Rafe. With a quiet but radiant happiness, she found herself daring to anticipate the day when he would tell her he loved her and ask her to be his wife.

Then, one golden evening in late September, a woman arrived at the clinic asking to speak to Madeleine on a matter of some urgency.

Presuming it was business, she agreed, and when a tall, good-looking brunette was shown in, she held out her hand with a friendly smile. ‘Hello…I’m Madeleine Knight.’

The expression in her dark eyes unmistakably hostile, the newcomer, beautifully dressed and thin to the point of gauntness, ignored the proffered hand. ‘And I’m Fiona Charn, Rafe’s fiancée…’

Sitting down in the visitor’s chair, she crossed slim, silkclad legs. ‘To put it bluntly, I gather that while I’ve been away this last time, he’s been bedding you…’

Watching the hot colour pour into Madeleine’s cheeks, Fiona added, ‘But I’m wearing his ring.’ She flashed a large, square-cut emerald.

Somehow Madeleine gathered herself enough to say jerkily, ‘I had no idea he had a fiancée.’

‘Oh, I don’t blame you in particular. Rafe’s always been a red-blooded man, and if it hadn’t been you it would have been some other woman. He’s extremely attractive to the opposite sex. Women throw themselves at him, so in a way one can’t wonder that he takes advantage…

‘But now I’m home it has to stop. Rafe’s mine.’

Her voice sounding thin and tight, Madeleine said, ‘If he’s that kind of man I’m surprised you still want him.’

‘Oh, I want him all right, so if you were thinking of suggesting that I set him free, forget it…For one thing he doesn’t want out, and for another, we have a bargain…’

‘A bargain?’ Madeleine echoed.

‘When it became clear that I was to be an only child, Daddy was bitterly disappointed. He held the old-fashioned belief that no mere woman could be expected to run a business empire successfully. Then Rafe came to live with us, and it was like a dream come true. The son he’d always wanted.

‘Daddy was a wealthy man, but most of his money was tied up in the business and, to give him his due, he was concerned about my future.’ Fiona paused, tossing her silken hair over her shoulder.

‘After his first heart attack, he talked things over with Rafe and agreed to leave Charn Industries to him lock, stock and barrel if he would marry me and take care of me…’

Yes, Madeleine remembered being told that Rafe had inherited the Charn empire from his godfather.

‘Rafe and I had been lovers for some time, so he was quite happy to make it legal. We’d have been married by now and there wouldn’t have been a problem if I hadn’t been diagnosed with a rare blood disorder. I’ve had to spend long periods in a private clinic undergoing treatment, which meant Rafe was left alone, and, as I say, he’s a red-blooded man who needs a woman. Any woman.’

Her voice brittle, Fiona went on, ‘Then I discovered I was pregnant, which made this last treatment more prolonged and complicated, and in the end I lost the baby…’

Shocked and horrified to think that she and Rafe had been lovers while his fiancée went through such an ordeal, Madeleine stood rooted to the spot, staring at her.

‘But now I’m back home for good, and we’ll be getting married fairly soon. I don’t intend to let him stray, so I suggest you find yourself another man, preferably one that doesn’t belong to some other woman.’

Getting to her feet, Fiona stalked out without a backward glance, leaving Madeleine devastated, shattered, her insides fractured into tiny pieces like a car’s windscreen smashed with a hammer.

She was still standing staring blindly into space when Eve came in carrying the next patient’s notes. ‘Dear God!’ she exclaimed, after a glance at her friend’s face. ‘You’re as white as a sheet. What on earth’s wrong?’

Madeleine focused with difficulty, and her voice impeded, said, ‘Fiona Charn, the woman who just went out, is Rafe’s fiancée.’

‘What?’

‘She’s Rafe’s fiancée,’ Madeleine repeated.

Seeing her sway, and afraid she was going to faint, Eve pushed her into a chair.

‘You’re sure? You haven’t got the wrong end of the stick or anything?’

‘She was wearing his ring.’

‘No! It can’t be right; he loves you…I felt sure he did.’ Eve was angry and indignant on her behalf. ‘But if he’s that kind of man, perhaps you’re better off without him…’

She gave her friend a quick hug and, seeing the blankness of shock still on Madeleine’s face, said, ‘Look, why don’t you go home? I’ll tell Mrs Bond you’re ill and get someone to fill in for you.’

‘No…I’ll be all right. I’d rather keep working. Just give me a few minutes.’

When Madeleine went home that evening, Eve insisted on going with her. ‘Noel might well be out, and I don’t think you should be alone,’ she said soberly.

But Noel, who was just back from the Middle East and currently sleeping on Madeleine’s bed-settee, was at home.

When he heard the news he was sympathetic, even angrier than his sister, and a great deal more vocal. ‘I’d like to break the bastard’s neck,’ was one of his more restrained comments.

But as Madeleine pointed out bleakly, though Rafe had treated the woman who was to be his future wife with a callous disregard that was unforgivable, he had told her no lies. Promised her nothing.

He had never said he was free, never said he loved her or asked for her love. She had given it freely, and foolishly perhaps, presumed he was free, presumed he cared about her.

She couldn’t have been more wrong. But perhaps, after what had happened to Colin and her mother, she didn’t deserve to be happy. Perhaps it was poetic justice that Rafe hadn’t loved her, any more than she had loved Colin…Perhaps this was what she deserved…

‘Don’t make excuses for him,’ Noel broke into her thoughts. ‘He’s just been using you…I take it you won’t be joining him in Paris?’

‘No!’ she said determinedly.

Rafe was in the French capital on business, and he had made all the arrangements for Madeleine to join him for a long weekend. It was a romantic trip she had been greatly looking forward to—staying on the Champs-Elysées, dining on the Bateaux Mouches, walking hand in hand down the Rue de Rivoli…

But now everything had changed.

‘When he gets back,’ Noel went on, ‘face up to the swine and tell him what you think of him.’

‘I can’t,’ she whispered.

How could she let Rafe see how heartbroken she was, how utterly devastated? It would be humiliating, mortifying. Somehow she had to walk away with at least her selfrespect intact.

Guessing what was in her mind, Eve approved her decision. ‘It might be best to let him think you don’t care, that it doesn’t mean a thing to you. At least that way you won’t be just another scalp dangling from his belt…’

‘So how are you going to get out of this Paris trip without letting him suspect the truth?’ Noel asked.

‘I don’t know,’ Madeleine said helplessly.

After the three of them had talked it over for a while, Eve exclaimed, ‘I’ve got it! Send the brute a ‘Dear John’ email. Tell him you’ve met someone new and you’re finishing with him.’

‘I don’t think that would work,’ Madeleine demurred. ‘He’s only been in Paris two days—there hasn’t been time for me to have met anyone else.’

‘In that case make it someone you already know,’ Eve said thoughtfully.

Madeleine shrugged. ‘But I don’t know anyone I could begin to pretend was a new lover…’

‘What about me?’ Noel asked. When Madeleine stared at him blankly, he said, ‘Don’t look at me like that, or you’ll seriously damage my ego. Aren’t I tanned and handsome, personable enough to play the part of your lover?’

‘Of course, but—’

‘Then all you have to do is tell the lowdown skunk that I’m the man you really care about. Go on to say that I’ve been away working, and now I’m back he’s redundant, so to speak. That would do the trick, don’t you think?’

‘It might,’ Madeleine admitted. ‘He once saw a snapshot of you and wanted to know who it was. When I told him, he asked if you were an ex-lover. I said no, a friend.’

‘That’s fine, then. You wouldn’t have been likely to admit to your current lover that I was more than just a friend, would you?

‘Right…’ He produced his laptop. ‘Get cracking, and make it offhand enough to trample his masculine pride in the dust. That way you’ll never have to set eyes on him again.’

After some input from both Eve and Noel, the short email read:

Noel has returned from the Middle East sooner than

I’d expected, so I’m afraid I won’t be able to join you in Paris after all.

Sorry it’s a bit last-minute, but I’m sure you’ll be able to find someone else to take my place.

Thanks for all the good times.

Madeleine.

‘That should do the trick,’ Noel approved.

Eve agreed, and the email was duly sent.

It wasn’t until after supper, when Eve had gone home and Noel was settled on the bed-settee, that the full realisation of what she’d done struck her, and she gave way to the bitter unhappiness that crowded in.

Climbing into bed, she buried her face in the pillow and cried until she had no more tears left, before falling into an exhausted sleep.

Next morning when she awoke, Noel was already up, and as she tidied the bedding away and folded the settee she could hear the shower running.

Still in her night things, she was making coffee when he strolled into the kitchen with a towel knotted around his lean hips.

‘Mmm…smells good.’

Madeleine had just turned to hand him a mug when she saw a car pull up outside and a familiar figure jump out.

Filled as she was with a sudden panic, her hand trembled so much that a lot of the coffee slopped over.

‘Steady there.’ Noel took the mug from her.

White to the lips, she whispered, ‘Oh, dear God, it’s Rafe. I don’t want to see him. I can’t bear it.’

‘So don’t answer the door.’ Noel shrugged.

‘He has a key,’ she admitted miserably. Then in desperation, ‘What am I going to do?’

‘I’ll soon send him packing…No, better still…Come on, kiddo, let’s give the cheating swine an Oscar-winning performance.’

Grabbing her hand, Noel hurried her into the bedroom, coming to a halt in line with the open door.

‘Put your arms round my neck and close your eyes,’ he instructed. Dropping the towel, he pulled her close and began to kiss her just as the front door opened and Rafe walked in.

Noel broke the kiss, and they both looked towards the man standing there as though the sky had fallen in on him.

Shock, and a kind of raw disbelief, showed in his face, closely followed by anger. Then the shock and anger iced over and with a razor-sharp edge to his voice he said, ‘So this is Noel…I can quite see why you didn’t want to come to Paris…’

Tossing the key he was holding onto the coffee-table, he added, ‘We’ll meet again, Madeleine, one day. Mark my words…’ and, turning on his heel, walked out.

‘That’s put paid to the swine,’ Noel remarked with satisfaction, and, using one hand to cover Madeleine’s eyes, stooped to grab the towel.

‘Now, then, if you promise to keep your eyes shut while I make myself decent, I’ll allow you to pour me another mug of coffee…’

Though she kept them shut, there was no real need to—they were blinded by tears…