About the Author

KIM LAWRENCE lives on a farm in rural Anglesey. She runs two miles daily and finds this an excellent opportunity to unwind and seek inspiration for her writing! It also helps her keep up with her husband, two active sons, and the various stray animals which have adopted them. Always a fanatical consumer of fiction, she is now equally enthusiastic about writing. She loves a happy ending!

Recent titles by the same author:

MAID FOR MONTERO (At His Service) THE PETRELLI HEIR SANTIAGO’S COMMAND GIANNI’S PRIDE

Did you know these are also available as eBooks? Visit www.millsandboon.co.uk

The Mistress Scandal
Kim Lawrence

www.millsandboon.co.uk

CHAPTER ONE

‘GO ON, spit it out.’

‘What?’ Greg produced an expression of injured innocence from habit rather than a belief it would have any effect on his half-brother, who had an unnerving ability to read him like a book.

He knew too that the languid air—half-closed eyes, long legs crossed at the ankle thrust out before him as he slumped in a deeply padded leather chair—was a blind. Those penetrating dark eyes lightened by disturbing amber flecks were shrewdly, probably cynically, analysing his every gesture. With a rush of honesty he grudgingly conceded that the cynicism was possibly justified; he might have let Gabe down a few times in the past—but that was a long time ago …

‘The recruitment’s going really well. I thought you’d be pleased.’

‘I am. We’re ahead of schedule. But let’s put your brilliance at public relations to one side for the moment, Greg. Spare me the injured dignity and tell me why you’ve developed a nervous tic.’

‘What?’ Scanning his handsome face anxiously in a conveniently placed mirror, Greg caught the reflection of his half-brother’s sardonic smile. ‘Very funny.’ With a deep sigh he dropped down into a chair. ‘There’s this girl.’

‘You’re amazingly predictable, Greg.’ Gabriel MacAllister saw his brother flush and softened the cutting edge of his tone. ‘I hope you haven’t done anything too stupid. The last thing we want is to upset the natives. You know how much knee-jerk opposition there was to the planning permission originally.’

Stupid …? He had no doubt on a scale of one to ten which number Gabe would select. Anyone but Gabe might have softened up a bit if he’d mentioned how desperately in love he was, but he knew better than to appeal to his brother’s softer side—Gabriel MacAllister was as hard as tungsten steel, and right now he was waiting for a reply.

‘She’s pregnant.’ He waited, a sulkily defiant expression momentarily spoiling his open-faced good looks, for his brother’s response. ‘Well, say something!’ he burst out, when all Gabe did was rub the toe of his shinily polished shoe in a thoughtful circle on the carpet. ‘Call me an idiot—hell!’

‘I won’t waste my breath stating the obvious,’ Gabriel responded, in a soft voice his younger brother found infinitely worse than any screaming histrionics. ‘You’d better tell me the whole story.’

He listened carefully, repressing his irritation when the younger man lapsed into the rambling sections which miraculously absolved him from all blame, until Greg had finished.

‘Eighteen. You did say she was eighteen?’

‘She’s very mature.’

It afforded Gabriel small comfort to see his idiot sibling could still blush guiltily.

‘Will you come with me when I tell Mum and Dad?’ Sophie pleaded, absently eating the peas her sister was shelling. ‘You’ll be able to calm things down if they start yelling.’

Alice gave a wry snort; she didn’t share her sister’s confidence. A gap of ten years separated her from Sophie, who was in their parents’ eyes perfect in every way. If Sophie hadn’t been so genuinely sweet-tempered her indulged upbringing might have turned her into a spoilt brat. But there was nothing brat-like about her sister; she was impulsive, certainly, but that was part of her charm.

‘If?’ One darkly feathered eyebrow rose to a quizzical angle.

‘You’re supposed to be making me feel better, Alice.’

The resentful glare was wasted on Alice, who shifted the angle of her garden chair so that she had a better view of her two-year-old son, who was ignoring the numerous brightly coloured toys in the sandpit in favour of his shoes, which he was filling with sand. His golden sun-kissed little face was a serious mask of concentration. She knew she was prejudiced, but Alice didn’t think there had ever been a child born as beautiful as Will.

She got up and placed the discarded sunhat back on his head. ‘I give up,’ she sighed as William removed it equally firmly, giving her a cherubic smile as he did so. Though a remarkably even-tempered child, Will was already displaying a stubborn streak a mile wide.

‘I wouldn’t worry, Ally, he won’t burn. He really is dark. He certainly takes after Oliver, not you.’

Alice twitched the peak of her baseball cap firmly over her lightly freckled nose and remained silent on the subject of her son’s complexion. She found herself recalling their honeymoon, when Oliver had ignored her advice and overindulged in the Caribbean sun on the very first day. He’d been literally untouchable for the rest of their stay.

She rejoined her sister. ‘I don’t think I’ll be doing you any favours to raise false hopes. Be realistic, Sophie. There’s going to be tears and yelling—and we’re talking about the optimistic scenario here.’

She watched her sister’s soft lips quiver, and with a sigh she placed a comforting hand on the young woman’s shoulder. The most serious trauma in her lovely sister’s life so far had been wearing braces; it wasn’t what she’d have termed an adequate preparation for her present situation.

‘You know how proud they are of you, Soph, their brilliant baby daughter off to Oxford … And you walk in and announce you’re going to have a baby. How do you expect them to react? They still fret about you catching a bus alone. Have you thought this thing through?’ she asked worriedly.

‘Are you saying I should get rid of it?’ Sophie pulled away angrily and glared accusingly at her sister. ‘How would you have liked it if anyone had suggested you get rid of Will?’ She saw her sister flinch. ‘You were a single parent too … Oliver was dead—’ She broke off and bit her lip. ‘I’m sorry, that was …’

‘True,’ her sister put in levelly. ‘Which means I know how hard it is to bring up a child alone. At night when Will has a temperature—which is probably a simple cold but might not be—don’t you think I long to have someone else there to share …?’ Breathing deeply, Alice bit back the emotional words that suddenly threatened to spill out.

Sophie’s expression of stunned amazement almost made her smile.

‘I thought … You always seem to cope so well, Ally,’ she said, staring at her sister wonderingly.

‘I cope, but that doesn’t mean I don’t sometimes wish there was someone else there to share some of the decisions,’ Alice admitted truthfully. She didn’t want to be responsible for any false notions her sister might have about the difficulties involved in being a single parent. ‘And at least Oliver left me reasonably well provided for financially. And I wasn’t suggesting anything … that’s your decision.’

Sophie looked into her sister’s deep blue eyes and saw sympathy, love and a total lack of judgement. ‘I know,’ she confessed with a watery grin.

‘And will you be bringing up the baby alone …?’ Alice fished delicately.

‘Oh, Greg wants to make an honest woman of me.’

‘Marriage?’ Her neutral tone hid her own grave misgivings. Sophie was so young, and marriage was such a drastic step. ‘You don’t look over the moon,’ she observed shrewdly.

‘Oh, that wasn’t his initial response. Originally he wanted me to … you know.’ Two pink spots appeared on her pale cheeks as her eyes slid from Alice’s. ‘I guess that’s why I was bit sensitive,’ she confessed huskily. ‘He says he loves me …’

Alice could hear the obvious doubt in her sister’s wobbly tone. ‘And do you love him?’

‘I thought I did. I ended up comforting him. I thought he was … I don’t know, strong …’

‘Slick’ was the word that more readily sprang to Alice’s mind. But then, she reminded herself, I’m not eighteen any longer, and Sophie isn’t the only one to have been won over by Greg’s charm offensive.

Even the most stubborn critics of the siting of a software factory on the outskirts of their picturesque market town had been won over by his smooth persuasiveness and carefully stage-managed and conspicuous community involvement.

Alice, on the other hand, had been won over to the scheme by the number of skilled well-paid jobs advertised locally, and the innovative building that would house the high-tech workforce amidst charmingly landscaped grounds.

‘He seemed so sure of himself—of everything!’ Sophie looked so bewildered that Alice’s heart ached. ‘Now he’s more concerned about what his precious brother will say than how I’m feeling!’ Sophie shook her head. ‘I must sound really stupid.’ She gave a shaky laugh and ran a hand through her smooth shoulder-length blonde hair. ‘I suppose I want what you and Oliver had; he was so perfect. You were perfect together.’

Sophie saw the naked anguish that flickered across her sister’s face and bit the tongue responsible for causing that pain.

‘Still, you’ve got Will, and he looks more like Oliver every day.’

‘So everyone keeps saying,’ Alice responded, her eyes fixed on her son who was, unless her memory was playing tricks, the spitting image of his father, from his thick dark wavy hair to his gorgeous velvety eyes.

‘You will come? For moral support, I mean?’

‘Of course I will,’ Alice agreed, knowing full well that the task of calming and comforting their distraught, adoring parents over the next few weeks would inevitably fall to her.

The phone call came out of the blue.

‘Mrs Lynn?’

There had been a pause where she ought to have identified herself. The caller repeated himself, and this time just a tinge of impatience coloured that deep, vibrant voice.

Alice gave herself a sharp mental shake. The similarity was uncanny, but the phone had a way of distorting voices.

‘This is Alice Lynn,’ she confirmed, her voice calm, her palms sweaty.

‘I’m Gabriel MacAllister … Greg’s brother …’

‘I know who you are, Mr MacAllister.’ What I don’t know, she wanted to say, is why you’re calling me.

‘We should talk.’

‘Why?’

There was a pause, as though her blunt response had taken him by surprise. ‘Do you think your sister should marry my brother?’ He sounded as though he was discussing the price of shares. Alice’s every instinct recoiled from such a cold-blooded attitude. It was none of her business, or his, and she should have told him so.

‘No.’ Alice heard herself reply with gut certainty.

‘Interesting.’

In what way? she wondered.

‘I’m staying at the Grange.’

The last time she’d been there had been to celebrate their anniversary. Oliver had had too much to drink and he’d confessed…. Alice felt the beginnings of a headache.

‘Would you like to meet me here for lunch?’

‘I can’t … my son …’ She knew she sounded vague and wishy-washy, the sort of person who fell in with other people’s wishes, and she didn’t like it. Her stomach was still churning just because his throaty drawl had triggered a carefully buried memory …

‘Fine, I’ll come to you.’

‘You don’t know where I live,’ she began as the worrying impression she was being manipulated intensified.

‘Oh, but I do, Mrs Lynn.’

The words carried the slight but definite suggestion that that wasn’t all he knew about her. Putting the phone down, Alice felt dazed.

All she knew about Gabriel MacAllister—other than the usual success-story stuff everyone knew—was what Sophie had gleaned from Greg, who had, to Alice’s mind, an unhealthy reverence bordering on fear for his brother. Put all the information together and the picture which emerged was of a sinister control freak.

Did you give an omnipotent tyrant afternoon tea? she pondered, able to summon a wry grin. He’d probably turn up his nose at her supermarket teabags.

‘And I doubt he’s really into Marmite fingers, Will,’ she told her son, wiping the sticky black goo off his face and chubby fingers before she lifted him out of his highchair. ‘Nap time for you, young man.’

She could hear Will’s spasmodic sleepy baby babble through the nursery alarm as she retrieved the scattered toys from the kitchen floor and placed them in a toy box. It was a task she performed numerous times each day, and as her hands went into autopilot her mind raced.

What was Gabriel MacAllister up to? Despite the fact she thought Greg was the last person in the world Sophie should marry, she felt a deep sense of indignation that he possibly shared her view! Was he protecting the MacAllister millions from grasping schoolgirls? she wondered, glancing at her reflection in the mirror as she straightened.

Her face was lightly flushed from a combination of the mild exertion and temper. She looked with lack of interest at her features. It was only on the rarest occasions since Oliver’s death and Will’s birth that she looked upon herself as a woman—she was just Will’s mum these days.

Once she’d thought she was quite attractive, and she’d known that the combination of a slim, curvaceous body and pretty—some said beautiful—features attracted a lot of admiring attention.

She glanced down at the faded tee-shirt and old jeans she wore and decided there was little possibility that her visitor would think she was going out of her way to impress him. Take sex out of your life and it cut down on the complications considerably, she decided approvingly.

If Will hadn’t fallen asleep she might have let the doorbell ring, just to emphasise how unimpressed she was by the royal visitation. But she made do with adopting an expression of cool indifference before letting her visitor in.

The world had gone completely mad—or perhaps she had! Fingers pressed to her pounding temples, she shook her head from side to side in denial.

Alice wasn’t even aware she’d been walking steadily backwards until her head made jarring contact with the opposite wall. Her knees folded and she found herself sliding down the wall until she was sitting, knees drawn up to her chest, staring upwards dizzily. The doorway was empty; perhaps she’d been hallucinating.

‘You’re going to pass out if you keep hyperventilating,’ a deep voice observed objectively.

Cancel hallucination! He was kneeling right there beside her. God, he even smelled the same. Shockingly her stomach muscles spasmed hotly in excitement as she registered the light, expensive cologne with musky male undertones.

‘It’s my house and I’ll faint if I want to,’ she snarled.

‘And do you?’

Actually, unconsciousness had a lot to recommend it right now!

‘I never faint,’ she told him emphatically.

Although she had once almost lost consciousness from the sheer unadulterated bliss of being made love to. Did he remember …? Her wide eyes collided with his stunningly sensual dark orbs, spectacular eyes that her mother would have coyly termed ‘bedroom eyes’ … He did.

‘I suppose it’s too late to pretend I’ve never met you before?’ she croaked.

She tried to match her ironic words with a smile, but her facial muscles wouldn’t co-operate. The omnipotent tyrant was wearing a beautifully cut lightweight suit; he looked spectacular. She developed a deep interest in his handmade leather shoes. It was the safest place to look until she regained control of herself.

‘I’ve never actually had a woman fall literally at my feet before.’ The nostrils of his chiselled nose flared as his dark glance moved slowly over her slim jean-clad figure.

The way Alice recalled it that had been about the only thing she’d not done last time. Heat crawled over her skin and her chest felt impossibly tight as she recalled the texture of his dark olive-toned skin slick with sweat.

‘I know I look a complete idiot; there’s no need to dwell on the subject.’ Businesslike, she tucked her jaw-length brown hair behind her ears and, back pressed to the wall, levered herself upright in one supple sinewy motion. ‘You took me by surprise,’ she added defensively.

Gabriel—how strange after three years to be able to put a name to the face, not to mention the body. He automatically extended a steadying hand which she pointedly ignored.

She had thought perhaps delayed shock had exaggerated the memories of that night. No man really had a physical presence that could reach out across a room and turn your stomach inside out. She’d been wrong. It wasn’t just that he was physically just about the most impressive male she’d ever seen, it was more than that—much more. The ‘more’ was in the innately elegant way he moved, the dark intelligence lurking in his deepset eyes and the bone-deep aura of confidence.

She’d sometimes wondered what would happen if their paths crossed again. Would he recognise her? Would she wonder what it was about him that had made her behave so crazily? Now there’s a prime example of wishful thinking! Why is this happening to me?

Superficially he was very like Oliver; that was what had first made her stare that night. But it wasn’t the fleeting similarity to her dead husband that had made her carry on … and on …

Oliver had been nearly six-five too, and broad across the shoulders. But the only exercise Oliver had had the time or inclination for in the last few years of his life had been the occasional round of golf. That combined with the fact he had rarely been without a glass in his hand outside working hours had softened and thickened him around the middle.

There was nothing remotely soft about Gabriel MacAllister, then or now! His belly was washboard-flat and his hips were sleekly lean. Alice raised both hands to her cheeks; they felt inordinately hot.

‘Did you know?’ she asked with terse suspicion.

‘Dark, devious plot time?’ Gabriel suggested with a raspy scornful laugh that made her flush. ‘You mean have I spent the last three years trying to track down the woman who slipped into my bed and slipped out of it just as casually?’ A nerve jumped spasmodically in one lean cheek. ‘If it hadn’t been for the scratches I might even have thought you were a dream.’ The erotic, soul-stealing variety.

‘I tried to get on with my life … Alice.’ His voice was a low, mocking drawl. ‘Such a nice, sweet, innocent little name for a nice, sweet, innocent little housewife.’ He looked at her bare left hand where it lay curled tightly around her right forearm. ‘Still no ring, I see. Tell me, does your husband know about your little escapades?’

The image flashed into her mind of the ugly expression on Oliver’s face when she’d flung her ring at him across the candlelit dining room.

‘Escapade in the singular.’ She hugged her arm even tighter over her breasts but felt no responding surge of security. She’d not noticed that night how uncompromisingly hard his angular jawline was.

Was he asking her to believe that a ring would have protected her from his advances that night? Highly sexed men like Gabriel, used to getting their own way, were not, in her opinion, big respecters of social convention. He’d got what he wanted, so why was he complaining? She’d got something too, to remind her permanently of that night.

Perhaps I ought to have let him think he was one amongst many? Better a trollop than a silly, weak-willed woman … or does a one-night stand qualify a woman for trollop status these days, irrespective of the extenuating circumstances?

‘I was the only one?’ Gabriel didn’t bother to hide his derisive disbelief. ‘I’m flattered.’

‘Don’t be. You were convenient.’

She hadn’t intended her crisp words to be interpreted as a blow for liberated womanhood, but from the brief flash of hot anger which briefly illuminated his bronze-flecked eyes he didn’t like her response one little bit.

‘You’re very frank, Alice.’

‘Don’t call me that …’

‘Why not? It’s your name.’

‘I don’t like the way you say it.’ It was like a finger skimming the downy surface of her skin, or maybe a tongue. Her thoughts skittered to a dead stop and dark damp patches appeared down her back where her tee-shirt was adhering to her hot sticky skin. Be sensible. Don’t think skin, tongues or anything remotely similar around this man.

‘Is that why you’re shaking? You were shaking the last time …’

‘My car had been stranded in a snowdrift for two hours on that occasion,’ she reminded him huskily. What’s your excuse now, Alice? Unwillingly she met the derision in his dark, compelling gaze. A shiver slid like ice all the way down her shock-stiffened spine—no man had a right to be that good-looking!

The emergency services had taken her and several other unfortunate travellers to a hotel. People forced together by adversity often shared a unique sense of camaraderie which broke down the usual reserves, and that had been the case that night. The plush foyer had been loud with voices of folk sharing stories and whisky, which the hotel bar had been liberally dispensing.

Alice had felt an odd sense of detachment as she’d stood there with an untouched glass in her hand. Nobody there could have been aware that her numbness extended far beyond her icy fingertips. She’d felt as though her soul had been surgically excised—she’d been empty.

Inevitably it would hurt at some point, but she had wanted to delay that inevitable moment for as long as possible. She’d had no idea where she was, and she hadn’t been interested enough to ask. She’d just got into her car after the funeral and started to drive. In her right mind she’d have curtailed her journey when the weather had gone from bad to impossible. That evening she’d recklessly driven on, even when the conditions had become a total white-out.

The dark stranger’s appraisal had been frankly sensual, even a little contemptuous, but for some reason this hadn’t angered or even flustered Alice. The strange sense of recognition, she had told herself later, must have had something to do with the uncanny resemblance. But the closer he’d come the less he’d looked like Oliver, and the stronger the aura of arrogance and power had become.

‘You were trapped in the snow …?’

His deep voice held an unusual rasp that sent a sharp electrical jolt all the way down to her toes. She opened her mouth and gave a soundless gasp. How had she known he would sound like that?

Alice ignored the opening he’d left for her name. ‘Yes.’

‘For how long?’

Her slender shoulders lifted in the dark fake-fur-trimmed coat she’d thrown on over her simple black dress. She fingered the single string of pearls around her throat.

‘I don’t know,’ she replied honestly.

‘You’re not drinking?’

She shook her head and the barrette that secured her long silky brown tresses came adrift. The rich warm cloud reached all the way to her slender waist.

‘I am.’

The throaty confession surprised her. He didn’t look or sound drunk, she decided, but there was a certain wild, reckless gleam in his eyes. There were other things there too …

Alice’s throat felt very dry when she spoke.

‘Were you caught in the blizzard too?’

‘No, I have a room …’

‘They’re turning the lounge into a dormitory for us.’ Personally she didn’t care if she slept on the snooker table.

‘British resourcefulness at its most impressive.’ The sultry intensity of his dark-eyed regard had not left her face for a second. ‘Would you like to share my room?’

Alice couldn’t tell from his expression if he really expected her to take his offer seriously.

‘Yes.’

If you discounted please she’d continued to say yes at all the vital moments during the rest of that long night.

Alice dismissed the distracting images from her head by sheer will-power alone. ‘I’m in shock,’ she said with icy dignity. ‘I didn’t expect …’

‘Your sordid past to knock on the door?’ His helpful suggestion earned him a bitter glare. ‘Think how I felt! Greg had led me to believe you might be able to fit me in between baking for the church fête and …’ He paused with a frown. ‘Sorry, my knowledge of wholesome rural activities is a bit sketchy.’

His patronising drawl made Alice grit her teeth.

‘And what do I get …?’ The mocking smile faded slowly from his face as he looked at her. ‘A lot more than I bargained for,’ he admitted huskily. ‘You were the most uninhibited lover I’ve ever had.’

His uninhibited lover went scarlet, and a mortified squeak emerged from her throat.

‘Don’t say things like that to me!’ she ordered fiercely.

‘Why? Afraid your husband will arrive home unexpectedly? I’d have thought you thrived on the danger.’ He looked into her miserable panic-stricken eyes and then looked away, as though what he’d seen there he’d not been expecting. ‘Don’t panic. I’m not the kiss and tell type.’

Alice tried to retrieve the shattered threads of her dignity. ‘I think you’ve lost track of why you came here.’

‘I think I’ve lost interest,’ he replied outrageously.

‘My sister’s future is not a subject I feel like joking about,’ she told him repressively.

‘I wasn’t joking,’ he muttered, following her into the big kitchen with its farmhouse table and obligatory Aga. ‘If it’s any comfort,’ he remarked, picking up a fluffy teddy bear Alice had missed from the floor and twitching a chewed brown ear, ‘I’ve told Greg he’s been criminally irresponsible. It’s bad enough the girl’s only a kid, but to not take precautions!’ His lips curled scornfully. ‘Have I said something funny?’ he enquired icily.

‘No,’ she managed, with only the faintest quiver of hysteria in her voice. Hopefully Gabriel MacAllister would never appreciate the irony of his scathing assessment.

‘Is she anything like you?’ he suddenly enquired.

‘Who?’

‘The sister.’

‘No, nothing like me at all. Sophie is very clever and sweet.’

‘Trusting and a bit dim if she fell for Greg,’ he announced with callous objectivity.

Alice inhaled sharply. Even though she suspected he was baiting her she couldn’t help responding defensively.

‘Do they hand out Oxford scholarships to dimwits?’ she enquired acidly. How dare he criticise her sister? ‘If my sister fell for your slimy brother’s dubious charms you can put it down to lack of experience, not her IQ—she is, after all, eighteen. You know what I think of a … Heavens, he’s nearly my age, for God’s sake!’ she exclaimed in disgust.

‘Surely not that old?’ he returned, straight-faced. With no make-up and her simply cut hair emphasising the soft contours of her face and long, lovely neck she could have passed for a teenager herself.

‘I have to tell you once more I don’t find anything humorous in this situation. Also, I’ve not the faintest idea why you came here. It’s nothing to do with us what they decide to do.’

‘On the contrary, it’s got everything to do with me. My … our mother considers me responsible for everything Greg does.’ He was only half joking. Greg had been born with a heart defect, and despite the fact that surgery had corrected the situation years ago protective old habits died hard.

‘And you’re scared of your mother, I suppose?’

‘I’ve a healthy respect,’ he told her drily. ‘And I think you underestimate your influence. According to Greg, your sister listens to what you say, and as the lady herself is nowhere to be seen at the moment … This is a situation that needs sorting out sooner rather than later.’

‘What exactly do you mean by sorting out?’ she asked distrustfully.

Gabriel’s expression made it clear he understood the nature of her suspicions. ‘Not what you think.’ His wry tone made Alice flush.

‘I think you misunderstand my relationship with my sister, Mr MacAllister … Granted, we’re close, but that doesn’t mean …’

‘Under the circumstances I think you’d better make it Gabe, don’t you …?’ A slow, intimate smile curved his beautifully cut lips. ‘Or do you prefer Gabriel? I’m easy.’

So was I … The words sprang unbidden into Alice’s mind.

The heat of humiliation surged once more in her cheeks. If he acted like this in front of other people he might just as well shout from the rooftops that they’d slept together. People weren’t stupid. Someone, some time was bound to put two and two together and come up with Will! She struggled to keep the panic steadily building up inside under control.

‘Just because your brother is happy—or maybe unhappy—to let you tell him what he thinks, don’t think it works that way in other less dysfunctional families. Sophie has a mind of her own!’ she choked.

‘I’m glad to hear it,’ Gabriel remarked drily. ‘It’s always useful if one person in a partnership has guts.’

‘Do you always pull your brother to shreds like that?’ Alice enquired critically.

‘Only to his face, as a rule. Generally I lie through my teeth on his behalf, but as we’re the next best thing to family I feel I can speak freely to you.’

Alice found herself wishing passionately he wouldn’t.

‘Family …? How do you make that out?’ she asked, deeply alarmed at this theory.

‘Greg is my half-brother; the mum-to-be is your sister. We’re going to share a nephew-stroke-niece. In my book that makes us family.’

‘They might not decide to marry.’

His impatient shrug suggested she was missing the obvious. ‘There’ll still be a baby. Being a father carries with it responsibilities. Greg will want to support them, both financially and practically. He’s not the one carrying the baby but no man wants to be a stranger to his own child.’

Alice had heard of one or two who wouldn’t have minded at all. She was surprised and disturbed by the vehemence in Gabriel’s voice as he expressed these sentiments—ones he obviously meant. She found herself experiencing an inconvenient pang of guilt and ruthlessly suppressed it … The circumstances were not comparable.

‘Does Greg know this? Or haven’t you told him yet?’

‘Listen, I know you don’t like Greg—’

‘Do you?’ she interrupted sharply.

‘Not always,’ he admitted. His slow, reflective smile held a rueful affection that softened his features. ‘But I do love the kid, and despite being spoilt from the day he drew breath he’s basically a good guy. Sure, he panicked when he found out about the baby. But he wouldn’t be the first. Personally, I think marriage with the right sort of girl is just what he needs …’

‘You mean if he’s got a wife she might keep him out of trouble and save you a lot of hassle?’ she accused scornfully.

‘That thought had occurred to me.’

‘If you were trying to sell me Greg as a brother-in-law you haven’t done much of a job so far!’

‘Why would I want to sell you anything, Alice? I thought you were all for leaving the young people to sort it out for themselves.’

Alice gave an exasperated snort. ‘I’d think I’d have preferred it if you’d thought Sophie was a gold-digger!’ she exclaimed.

‘That was always one possibility,’ Gabriel admitted readily, ‘but, having heard Greg’s version of events, I think there’s only one victim here, and it isn’t my brother.’ His voice carried a grimness that made Alice appreciate just why Greg might be afraid of his brother.

There had been nothing grudging in his candid admission, and she felt confused and simultaneously suspicious of his apparent forthrightness.

‘In Greg’s defence I have to say I’ve never seen him this smitten by a girl, and he doesn’t usually go for teenagers.’ His expression suggested that personally he found this attraction impossible to understand. ‘If your sister loves him I think the responsibility might well be the making of him … Does she?’

One dark brow quirked at a quizzical angle, he gave her a direct look that Alice found impossible to wriggle away from. Actually, she felt as if his eyes were pinning her to the wall. He’d pinned her to the wall that night, only not with his eyes …

The sudden freeze-frame image in her head filled her with intense shame—the silhouette of two bodies as close to being one as it was possible to get … How did I behave like that? She pulled at the neckline of her tee-shirt fretfully.

‘I don’t know.’ Her voice had a hoarse, strained quality as she struggled to put the past where it belonged. ‘Sophie has gone away to think.’

‘And what will she decide?’ he persisted.

‘You don’t get it, do you?’ She gave him an exasperated scowl. ‘You might tell your brother what to think, but Sophie is no puppet. I’ll just try and support her in her decision.’

‘A commendable attitude.’ He seemed noticeably unimpressed. ‘What if that decision is to marry Greg? Will your non-interventionist policy hold true then?’

‘Even then,’ she confirmed reluctantly.

‘Greg thinks you’re trying to spike his guns. He finds you scary.’

‘I think Greg finds anyone scary who doesn’t respond to his charm, and I’m not the sort of person who is won over by a slick tongue and a pretty face.’

Gabriel’s dark eyes narrowed as he digested her lofty claim.

‘I’m left wondering just what it was about me that won you over that memorable night.’ At his soft words all the colour leached from Alice’s face.

Knowing that what was coming next was inevitable, she watched his brow furrow in mock confusion before his eyes abruptly widened with comic comprehension. Alice started as he vigorously slapped his thigh.

‘Don’t tell me …!’ he instructed firmly. ‘It was my inner goodness shining through again, wasn’t it?’

‘You think you’re so clever, don’t you?’ she hissed. She’d known he’d be determined to mortify her. He didn’t know that he couldn’t think anything about her she hadn’t already thought herself.

‘Well, you’d know about stupid men, wouldn’t you? As you’re married to a prize idiot!’

‘Leave Oliver out of this!’ she yelled.

‘Or do you have his tacit approval of your nocturnal activities? Perhaps you share the details with him later … Some men get off on that sort of thing, I understand.’

‘You’re sick!’

The soft noise Alice hadn’t noticed emerging from the intercom became a sudden wail.

‘My son needs me,’ she said shakily. ‘Why don’t you let yourself out? Incidentally, if I have got any influence with Sophie I’ll use it to stop her getting any more involved with someone who’s even remotely connected with you!’

Gabriel appeared to take her open malice in his stride. ‘At least you’ve dropped all that objectivity rubbish. We both know where we stand, I think.’

Pushing past him, Alice wished she could say the same. In the last half-hour her whole life had been turned upside-down!

CHAPTER TWO

‘I WONDER what are they up to. Big brother must want to give me the once-over, probably, and warn me off. Perhaps,’ she theorised a little wildly, ‘he’ll want to pay me off.’

Alice knew better than to interrupt Sophie in the midst of one of her wilder flights of fancy. She maintained a neutral silence; she didn’t feel in the mood to get involved in convoluted conspiracy theories.

‘If he’s having his brother there, I want you. I’m not about to be browbeaten.’

Privately Alice didn’t think she’d ever seen anyone less browbeaten. She was the one feeling helpless. She’d seen that stubborn set of her sister’s chin before.

She could have said, I can’t possibly come with you because Gabriel MacAllister is the father of my child and he doesn’t know. That might prove distracting, she brooded darkly. And oh, incidentally, I don’t want him to know! It brought a wry fleeting smile to her face when she imagined how her sister would respond to that dynamite confession! God, how did my life get this complicated?

Naturally she was glad that Sophie had returned from the long weekend break at their grandmother’s house outside York in a positive frame of mind, but an energised Sophie was hard to resist once she set her mind on something!

And it was Alice who had convinced her she ought to speak to the wretched boy! She repressed a cowardly impulse to look for the nearest bucket of sand to bury her head in!

Drinks with the MacAllister brothers was not exactly her idea of a restful evening. It might have been a less daunting prospect on neutral ground, but it seemed Gabriel had leased Milborne Hall on the outskirts of town.

Alice had been forced to listen to local speculation about this surprising development for the past two days. She found herself praying that the more optimistic amongst the locals were wrong when they said rather smugly it was perfectly natural Gabriel MacAllister would want to live somewhere as perfect as their little rural backwater.

‘Wouldn’t it be better if Mum and Dad …?’

‘Are you kidding! Mum starts crying every time I look at her, and I’m just glad Dad sold his shotgun last year,’ Sophie reflected grimly. ‘You can laugh …’

Not recently!

‘But you’re not living there. I wish I’d stayed at Gran’s.’

‘I’m working …’ Alice made a feeble last-ditch attempt to wriggle out of it.

‘You’re not on duty until nine, are you …?’ Sophie smiled when her sister glumly nodded. ‘Fine, drop Will off a couple off hours early with Mum and we’ll go straight there. We’ll be finished in plenty of time for you to get to work. Anyone would think you were the one scared of meeting the man! It’s not you he’s gunning for.’

No, but he would be if he ever found out, Alice reflected grimly. But he never would. This line didn’t contain the same comforting certainty it once had when she’d lain awake in the night wondering if she’d done the right thing letting everyone assume … They’d all been so pleased and supportive. It had been the idea of Oliver’s baby—her great-grandson—that had kept Olivia, his grandmother, going after the devastating news of her grandson’s death. Of course she’d done the right thing—the only thing, she reassured herself briskly.

‘I’m sure Mr MacAllister is not gunning for you, Sophie.’

‘He’ll either think I’m just a feckless kid who got out of her depth, or I’m using the oldest trick in the book to get a rich meal ticket.’ Her carefully nurtured hard-boiled expression was spoiled by the quiver of her soft lips.

‘I’m sure he won’t think anything of the sort, and even if he does, five seconds after he’s seen you he’ll know different,’ Alice responded crisply. ‘Besides, what does it matter what he thinks of you?’

‘In a perfect world it wouldn’t,’ Sophie admitted, sounding very mature and even a little bit cynical to Alice’s sensitive ears. ‘Didn’t you like him?’ she added shrewdly, regarding her normally placid sister’s belligerent expression curiously. ‘You haven’t told me much about what he said.’

‘There isn’t much to tell.’ She was amazed and relieved that Sophie couldn’t hear the guilt in her voice.

‘And was he as good-looking as they say?’

‘Better, probably,’ Alice admitted after a reluctant pause during which an image of Gabriel’s dark lean features rose up to mock her. ‘And I’m sure he’d be the first to tell you so,’ she reflected with sweet malice.

Sophie laughed. ‘That’s probably where Greg gets it from,’ she concluded ruefully. ‘He takes longer than me to get ready, and I’ve not known him to pass a mirror without checking himself out.’

Alice instinctively knew the comparison was unfair, and had to bite her tongue to prevent herself springing, quite inappropriately, to Gabriel’s defence. You couldn’t compare her sister’s lover’s narcissistic love affair with his own reflection with Gabriel’s impregnable confidence. Gabriel’s innate arrogance was such that he didn’t need the designer accessories to bolster his self-worth.

Alice double-checked the pocket of her light jacket. Fortunately Sophie had been too preoccupied to notice that her big sister was as jumpy as a kitten.

‘I’ve left my mobile in the car.’ She clicked her tongue in exasperation and frowned as her sister rang the doorbell.

‘Don’t panic. I’ll get it.’ Sophie was halfway down the shallow steps that led to the entrance of the sprawling Victorian pile before Alice could respond.

She didn’t like the necessity of leaving Will, not even with her mother. Even though it was only two nights a week, she made sure she could always be contacted. Considering her mother’s age, she wasn’t sure how fair it was to her, or how much longer the arrangement would work, but that was a problem for the future. She had plenty more immediate ones to occupy her mind at the moment!

Money wasn’t a major problem yet, but since a couple of Oliver’s more chancy investments had gone bad the hours she put in at the hospital were a big help, and when Will was eventually in school and the time came for her to resume her career full-time it would be an advantage that she wasn’t totally out of touch.

It was a smartly dressed pleasant-looking woman who came to the door. Alice assumed she was the housekeeper; the MacAllisters were the sort of people who had housekeepers, chauffeurs and probably food-tasters too, she decided grimly. She couldn’t be the only person who wished Gabriel was safely out of the picture—she instinctively knew he would make a formidable business adversary.

Before either she or the older woman had had a chance to speak, Gabriel was there.

‘Thanks, Mrs Croft, I’ll see to this. Come in, Alice …

Said the spider to the fly … she thought, obeying the command thinly disguised as an invitation. She’d only ever seen him in a formal suit—or nothing at all—before. It had been a bad idea to recall the ‘nothing at all’ part! Today he was wearing pale-coloured jeans, that emphasised his ultra-slim hips and endless legs, teamed with an open-necked black polo shirt.

Even when she stepped up from the lower step he still towered over her. Despite the fact she’d stepped out of the sun her body was abruptly bathed in an uncomfortable heat.

Gabriel had to be used to the stock female reaction of open-mouthed appreciation. He probably accepted such admiration as nothing more than his due, she thought sourly. Perhaps it was far too late not to be obvious, but Alice didn’t want to be classed with the adoring masses. She kept her own mouth firmly shut, even when her squirming insides were swallowed up by a deep dark hole.

His features were not nearly as classically perfect as his half brother’s, his nose might even be classed beaky by the envious, but he had a raw sex appeal that went clear off the scale. Alice’s eyes touched his wide sensual mouth and she gave a little shudder that had nothing whatever to do with disgust!

Alice was angered by her obvious display of weakness, but decided the best way to deal with it was to pretend it hadn’t happened. He probably hadn’t noticed; he wasn’t even looking at her.

‘Where is your sister?’

Horror swept over Alice. Reprehensibly, she’d forgotten about Sophie, who arrived at that moment dead on cue. She looked sweet, sexy and wholesome. Alice avoided looking at Gabriel’s face; she didn’t particularly want to see the boringly predictable male response this dynamite combination inevitably inspired in men. It was then that she noticed for the first time Sophie was looking from her to Gabriel and back again with a stunned expression.

‘Are you unwell?’ Gabriel had obviously noticed too.

Sophie tipped her head back to look up at the tall dark man. ‘I’m fine,’ she said hoarsely, licking her dry lips. ‘It’s crazy, but seeing you standing there with Alice, I thought … from a distance you looked so like Oliver.’

Just shut up … please … I should have foreseen this possibility, Alice thought, feeling the panic that had been her constant companion since her dark anonymous lover had acquired a name rise dangerously close to the surface.

‘Oliver?’ He looked distressingly alert.

‘Alice’s husband.’ Sophie stepped into the hallway, her soft hair a bright focus against sombre panelling and attractive dark William Morris wallpaper. ‘It felt like someone just walked over my grave,’ she confessed with a theatrical shudder.

‘And does seeing … Oliver always make you look so distressed?’

‘He’s dead,’ Sophie said, glancing apologetically towards Alice.

Gabriel’s dark eyes moved automatically to Alice. The light dusting of blusher along her high cheekbones stood out starkly against the pallor of her pale, blemishless skin.

‘It was only from a distance, when I was over by the car. Up close you’re nothing alike.’

‘I’m very sorry.’

If Sophie hadn’t been there she’d have told him where he could shove his insincerity. Alice inclined her head coldly in acknowledgement.

‘Is this bereavement recent?’

‘Nearly three years ago,’ Sophie said, when her sister continued to stare at Greg’s brother with a peculiarly intense animosity. She’d never seen Alice behave like this towards anyone before. Perhaps it hadn’t been such a good idea to bring her after all.

The housekeeper appeared and their host turned aside to speak to her. Sophie took the opportunity to hiss warningly at her sister.

‘There’s no point antagonising him. I’m not asking you to sleep with the man … Joke, Ally, don’t be such a prude,’ she said in an impatient undertone when her sister went bright scarlet. ‘But he is pretty delicious,’ she mused in an admiring undertone. Don’t you think? I hope you don’t mind I brought my sister. You’ve met, I believe,’ she added as the housekeeper moved away oozing quiet efficiency.

Gabriel MacAllister briefly took the hand she held out but seemed to lose interest almost immediately.

Considering she’d been expecting to be the subject of a microscopic examination herself, it struck Sophie as ironic that she was being virtually ignored. Perhaps he was lulling her into a false sense of security? A frown pleated her smooth young brow as she looked questioningly towards her sister.

Alice didn’t notice the look. Sophie thought it was entirely possible her sister had forgotten she was there at all. Then it came to her. Of course—she wasn’t the only one to see the similarity. Poor Alice, she thought compassionately, no wonder she can’t take her eyes off him. It didn’t explain why he couldn’t take his eyes off her, of course … Unless …?

A speculative light entered her blue eyes to be closely followed by a worried gleam. Alice needed a man, but not one like this! He was just too … just too much everything she decided, examining this spectacular specimen of manhood with a worried expression. According to Greg he didn’t lack female companionship. She’d have to think of a way to casually drop details of his ladykilling reputation into the conversation with Alice.

‘Greg’s waiting in the drawing room.’ Gabriel nodded his dark head towards a half-open door.

Sophie moved forward before turning back uncertainly when Gabriel made no attempt to follow her.

‘Aren’t you coming? I thought it was to be …’ she began betrayingly.

‘Thumbscrews …?’ Gabriel suggested with an expressive quirk of one dark brow. His wry grin broadened as the young girl blushed. ‘I see my reputation precedes me,’ he murmured drily. ‘We’ll join you later.’

Heart thudding sickeningly, Alice listened to the awful inevitability of that we. Gabriel MacAlllister was the last person in the world she wanted to be classed as we with. She tried hard to respond to Sophie’s nervous grin as she vanished.

‘Would you like to see the garden?’

Impersonal, polite … No need to panic; polite conversation she could deal with. Sophie hadn’t given away any vital information. He’d have been bound to learn she was a widow eventually if he stayed around the area.

‘I believe you have a fine collection of old English roses here,’ she responded stiltedly.

‘Have we?’ The offhand shrug of his broad shoulders displayed not a scrap of interest in horticultural heritage as he placed a light but insistent hand against her shoulder-blade. ‘I wouldn’t know. We do have very old English plumbing, though,’ he supplied helpfully. ‘It precedes the building by several centuries. I suspect it came over with William the Conqueror. Charming, if you like cold showers.’

It wasn’t a question of like, more need she concluded, tearing her eyes from his hawkishly perfect profile. The sweat not absorbed by her light cotton bra had pooled uncomfortably in the rounded hollow between her breasts. The tingling in her nipples made her acutely conscious of the area.

Alice gave a condescending sniff. When the going got tough, some people headed straight back to their air-conditioning and indoor pools—well, she could hope, couldn’t she?

‘Why did you lease the place, then, if it’s s … sub-standard?’

‘I didn’t … well, only on Greg’s behalf. There’s a dearth of rentable property around here, and I persuaded him purchasing might be a bit premature. He thinks becoming a householder will give him gravitas and convince your sister of his good intentions.’

‘She probably won’t be so impressed if she knows you’re paying the bill.’ Alice was gently panting as she reached a near trot. His long legs were making very few concessions to her less impressive limbs.

‘Oh, I don’t know. She struck me as a very sensible sort of girl.’ He came to such an abrupt stop she almost bumped into him.

Hands outstretched, anticipating a collision, Alice found her palms slapping up against his chest.

‘S … sorry,’ she stammered, after a telltale gap of total immobility.

A gap during which panic and something far more sinister had uncoiled hotly in the pit of her belly. His short-sleeved polo shirt was fine knitted cotton and she could almost feel the texture of the dark curling hair that lightly covered his broad chest.

Her tingling fingertips felt remarkably reluctant to relinquish the contact as she drew jerkily back.

‘Here’ll do, I think.’

‘Do for what?’

He got straight to the point. ‘Why didn’t you tell me on Friday that you were a widow?’

‘Why …?’ It wasn’t hard under the circumstances to assume a dumb expression. She felt slow and stupid.

‘Like it didn’t come up in the conversation.’ He drawled. His languid tone was not reflected in his face; he looked remarkably angry in a dark, dangerous broody had sort of way. ‘I was slagging the guy off, if you recall.’

She did. ‘I don’t go around explaining details of my personal life to perfect strangers,’ she replied with studied defiance.

This angry statement struck Gabriel as being bizarre—under the circumstances. His eyes darkened as some of the personal details he did know about her came to mind—like the tiny oval mole on her left shoulder and the silver appendix scar just below the shapely crest of her right hip.

‘Even when you’ve shared your body with that perfect stranger?’ His mobile lips formed a cruel parody of a smile.

There were perfect strangers and perfect, as in flawless strangers, Alice thought, her eyes reluctantly studying the angular perfection of his lean face. Did he think she was likely to forget?

‘That was a long time ago,’ she said in a hushed voice.

‘About as long as your husband’s death?’ And was the tragic expression in her wide eyes reserved for that event or sleeping with him?

Alice’s shoulders hunched forward defensively, but she just shook her head mutely.

‘Do I look like him?’ Glancing quickly up, she saw his expression suggested he didn’t much care for this idea. His sharp cheekbones jutted through the tightly stretched smooth olive skin of his face. He had the sort of bone structure that would make a sculptor automatically reach for his chisel.

‘Not really.’

‘Your sister seemed to think …’

‘Superficially, perhaps!’ she snapped. ‘You’re the same height, build, and similar colouring.’

‘Is that why you were looking at me that night? Because you thought I was him?’ He took hold of her shoulders and Alice looked helplessly up at him.

‘For a second,’ she admitted, hoping he’d let the damned subject drop, but not getting her hopes up. He was the sort of person who could extract the last drop of blood from the most uncooperative stone. ‘I suppose I wanted you to be him,’ she reflected, with a frown.

Didn’t everyone want to go back and say the things they wanted to say—unsay the things they wished they hadn’t? Would she ever forget or forgive herself for those savage sentiments? The last things she’d ever said to Oliver.

Gabriel’s chest lifted as he inhaled deeply. His expression had grown curiously still.

‘How long had you been widowed?’ His eyes were now focused on a point over her head.

‘It was the day of the funeral.’

Gabriel gave a harsh, incredulous gasp before he let go of her shoulders. Alice watched him walk up to a large yew tree. He rubbed one finger slowly down the coarse-textured bark before turning abruptly back to face her.

‘You used me.’ It was an incredulous statement, not a question.

She gave a low, disbelieving grunt. ‘You can dish it up, but you can’t take it. Is that the problem here?’ She found this classic display of male double standards staggering. He glared at her in brooding irritation. ‘What were you doing to me if it wasn’t using?’

‘Don’t you remember?’ Wouldn’t that be the final irony, he reflected grimly, when he could recall every touch, every erotic little catch of breath.

Gabriel wasn’t entirely sure why he felt this angry—this betrayed. It had only been a one-night stand, but then that was only half the truth too. One night it might have been, but it was the one night by which his every potential sexual encounter would be measured in the future, and found wanting. He knew this for a fact.

No woman had ever responded to him as she had, with such uninhibited pleasure. Every man probably had a fantasy lover, but few ever met them in the flesh—perhaps, he reflected grimly, they were the lucky ones!

After three years he could still hear her husky sobs of pleasure as he’d touched her and she’d touched him. He could recall the precise erotic journey her skilful fingers and lips had made over his skin. She’d displayed an insatiable curiosity for his body and what pleased him … what made him wild. His eyes darkened and his body responded helplessly to the memory. Gabriel didn’t like being a helpless victim of his own lusts.

Now he didn’t even have the illusion that it had been him she’d been moaning or begging for. She’d been closing her eyes and thinking of another man. Only her eyes hadn’t been closed; they’d been wide open and deep drowning cornflower-blue.

The glazed, almost other-worldly quality in her expression seemed suddenly all too explicable. He’d been a macabre substitute! She’d been laying a ghost—quite literally!

The next time she’d know exactly who it was she was making love to, he vowed grimly. She’d been his totally that night and she would be again. The next time he was going to make her admit it.

‘I do have a hazy recall.’

Gabriel’s sharp inhalation made Alice regret her aggressively flippant response.

‘I was hurting. I wanted someone to hold me.’ That was only half the story, but she wasn’t about to go into any of the painful details. As for her motivation—even after three years she hadn’t quite fathomed that one out herself. There were some things that were better left well alone.

‘We did a lot more than hold.’

A sudden light gust of wind blew her fine hair around her face and made the fine georgette blouse she wore billow softly. The material lifted it exposed the gentle indentation just above her navel. Her skin was smooth as silk and creamy pale.

‘One thing led to another …’ she reflected miserably. Glancing up, she saw his dark eyes were fixed on the small exposed area of skin around her midriff, and the restless, hungry expression she glimpsed made her swallow nervously. ‘I’m not proud …’ She pulled her jacket tight at the waist and told herself only a fool would find such dangerous scrutiny stimulating.

Gabriel’s jaw tightened. Now that made him feel one hell of a lot better!

‘We didn’t work up to anything. The way I recall it we started at the top,’ he growled bluntly, ‘and stayed there.’

Alice’s fractured sigh was audible.

Good! She remembered all right, he thought, savagely pleased to see confirmation in the faint distressed quivering movements of her long sensitive fingers.

The door had closed and she had pressed her fingers to his lips. ‘Don’t talk,’ she’d pleaded.

She hadn’t wanted to think; she had just wanted to feel—feel something that she’d instinctively known would blank out the pain and fill the emptiness within her. She had boldly delivered herself up into the hands of a total stranger, but oddly that hadn’t frightened her.

He hadn’t spoken—not then. They’d both been too impatient to even undress the first time. She’d ripped ineffectually at his clothes in the grip of a lustful frenzy like nothing she’d ever experienced before.

The piercing pleasure of that first kiss, the extraordinary, indescribable mixture of lust and tenderness, had made her go as limp as a rag doll. Gabriel had supported her then, displaying a virile strength that had excited her deeply. The need within her as he’d pressed his hard, aroused body up against hers had been immediate and total.

In total contrast to that swift, urgent coupling Gabriel had undressed her later with agonising slowness. He’d made up for his previous silence too, telling her as he peeled off each garment exactly what he was going to do to her and what she was going to do in return. Even as his insidiously sexy voice had dripped like honey all over her Alice hadn’t quite been able to believe that people said such things! By the time she’d been naked Alice had been in a state of agonised arousal, almost begging him—Who was she kidding? She had begged him!

‘That wasn’t me …’ she protested weakly. Am I trying to convince him or myself? she wondered.

‘No?’ He reached out and ran a finger down the length of her neatly trimmed hair. The pad of his fingertip rested briefly on the curve of her jaw before falling away. ‘Despite the puritanical haircut, you look remarkably similar.’

‘You know what I mean.’ The casual contact had butterflies running riot in her belly. This is sexual deprivation talking, Alice Lynn, she told herself severely. Pull yourself together!

She’d been too involved with Will, and a lot of the time simply too tired from the demands of this solo job to admit she had any needs that weren’t being met. Her body was letting her know just how wrong she’d been with a vengeance right now. It had been bound to happen some time—only not now, please, not with him!

‘You were there in body but not in spirit,’ Gabriel suggested with a sneer. ‘Actually,’ he leered, ‘it’s the body I’m interested in.’

‘Tell me something I don’t know.’ She was obviously certifiable to find such a crudely phrased intent a turn-on.

Alice gasped when without warning his fingers curled in the shiny bangs of hair either side of the perfect oval of her face. He lowered his face down to her level, angling her face upwards and bringing his nose within an inch of her own.

‘You were mine body and soul that night. Deny it if you can!’

‘I’m warning you, I had garlic for lunch—lashings of it.’ Eyes screwed up tight, she issued this dire warning from between clenched teeth. It was the best form of defence she could come up with at short notice, and she wasn’t surprised to feel the sudden vibration of silent laughter in his chest.

If he kissed her she didn’t know what she’d do, but she could hazard a fairly accurate guess. It was the guesswork, that and the fragrant warmth of his breath, that was in danger of turning her into a gibbering wreck.

For Will’s sake she had to keep him at arm’s length, no matter how attractive she found him. Or is it for my sake? a cynical voice in the back of her mind inconveniently asked. Didn’t her son have the right to know who his real father was? Didn’t a man have the right to know he had a son? No! He hadn’t had procreation on his mind when he’d invited a total stranger to share his bed.

‘You say the most seductive things, angel.’

‘I’m not an angel.’

‘That’s a weight off my mind.’

‘Why are you doing this?’ He must have plenty of women, why the hell did he want her?

‘Because you were the best sex I’ve ever had,’ he told her frankly.

When her shocked eyes flickered open she found Gabriel looked inexplicably angry, as though he resented the admission he’d just made.

Alice was finding it hard to breathe properly. Had she really been that hot?

‘Do you always say exactly what you’re thinking?’ There was no sign of tenderness in his austerely beautiful face to soften the stark honesty of his comment. Irrelevantly she noted that his lashes were the thickest and lushest she’d ever seen on a man. Her son would have those lashes when he was older, and the eyes too.

He laughed then, and it was a dangerously attractive sound—almost as attractive as the flash of very white even teeth in his dark face.

‘If I did that I might get arrested, or maybe my face slapped. Or maybe not …?’ He speculated. ‘The fact is,’ he said, allowing his thumbs to move in a soft, exploratory fashion over the angle of her firm jawline, ‘everything since that night has been a bit of an anticlimax—in the bedroom department. I told myself if I ever met you again I’d take you to bed for a week—a month—however long it took to get you out of my system. Until today I thought you were married …’

‘And that made a difference,’ she grated hoarsely.

He really was absolutely incredible! Gabriel came right out and said things other people would blush to even think! A week! Her ribs felt in imminent danger of disintegration as her heart pounded thunderously within her tight chest. A month! The very idea! She felt sick—she felt something!

‘We’ve all got our little moral hang-ups,’ he murmured regretfully.

‘Some of us less than others,’ she responded faintly.

She couldn’t believe he had the gall to talk about morals! But then her membership of the moral high ground was distinctly shaky under the circumstances, she recalled reluctantly.

‘You shouldn’t beat yourself up about our one-night stand,’ he soothed, ladling on the sardonic understanding with a heavy hand.

‘I wasn’t talking about me!’ she hissed.

‘You’re not as tall as I remembered.’

‘Sorry,’ she responded ironically. She’d probably disappoint him in a lot of other ways too. Not that she was going to put herself in a position where he could match his memories to reality.

‘No criticism implied. Only when we made love the first time—’

‘Had sex,’ she snapped. There had been no mention of love when he’d said she was the best sex he’d ever had! She listened with dismay to the unmistakable sound of bitterness in her own voice.

‘You were wearing those high heels. Now you’re not wearing anything nearly as sexy—in the shoe department, that is.’

She would have glanced automatically towards her sensibly shod feet if he hadn’t had other ideas. As far as Gabriel was concerned she was looking at him until he decided otherwise.

She flushed angrily at her own passive acceptance of this restraint. Anyone would think she was enjoying it. It was about time she made it quite clear this was definitely not the case!

‘Let me go!’

‘Kiss me, and I’ll think about it. I’m willing to risk the garlic …’

It terrified her to realise how attractive she might have found this offer had the circumstances been entirely different.

‘You know you want to,’ he taunted softly. His eyes rested pointedly on the prominent outline of her nipples as they chafed against the thin layers of her clothes.

It was then Alice kicked him hard on the shins. He was crude, vile and unforgivably correct about her feelings. She heard him grunt in pain as she turned and began to run. She’d only taken a couple of strides before a hand on her shoulder swung her around.

‘The offer still stands,’ he said, wrapping one arm firmly around her ribcage.

His chest was rising, though not as rapidly as her own, which gave the impression she’d just done five thousand metres not five.

It would be undignified to struggle, not to mention pointless. There was only one way to prove to him that she wasn’t the person he remembered—not really. That night had been the result of a set of freak circumstances; it couldn’t be repeated.

Oliver had been her only lover until his death. They’d had an enjoyable sex life, familiar, pleasant and comfortingly predictable, at least until that dreadful last year, but it had never been going to set the world alight. She wasn’t that sort of person.

She grabbed a handful of his shirt to steady herself, hooked one hand behind his neck and tugged his head down. She placed her lips firmly against his mouth with every intention until the final moment of contact to withdraw almost immediately.

That was before a depth charge went off in her nervous system. The electrical flash extended all the way down to her curling toes. With a humiliating lack of hesitation, which she would later reflect upon bitterly, she accepted—even welcomed—the lustful lunge of his tongue into the moist recesses of her mouth.

The texture of his lips, the taste of him, the marvellous proximity of his hard, lean, aroused body was a heady cocktail of sheer undiluted erotic bliss.

‘This is terrible!’ she gasped when, true to his word, Gabriel released her. Alice hugged her arms around herself protectively.

Gabriel raked a hand through his thick sleek dark hair. For once he didn’t appear to have a slick retort to hand.

‘Why terrible?’ Alice didn’t notice that he sounded distracted.

‘Because I liked it.’

Gabriel smiled and let the tepid like pass. ‘So did I.’

She’d noticed, but she tried not to do so too obviously now, as she struggled to keep her fraught gaze on his face. The hot melting sensation between her thighs didn’t dissipate even when good taste won out over crude desire.

‘Is that a bad thing?’

‘I don’t do casual sex.’ The sardonic quirk of one eyebrow made her flush. ‘Normally.’

‘Neither do I … normally.’ Gabriel had never felt less casual in his life.

‘I have a son.’

‘Keep this quiet, only mothers have been known to have sex,’ he told her in sarcastic hushed undertones.

‘Not this one,’ she responded unthinkingly, with such feeling that he gave a deep growl of laughter. ‘I didn’t mean it like …’ she faltered, biting her lips in vexation. What a time to be spontaneous!

‘Then how did you mean it?’

Gabriel watched as she opened her mouth several times—he could think of worse things to look at than the full soft outline—in an attempt to place a less controversial interpretation on her words before eventually lapsing into a pink-cheeked resentful silence.

‘Your last time was with me, wasn’t it?’ He wasn’t a vain man, but he couldn’t repress a strong surge of complacency.

‘I’m not in the market for an affair.’

‘After three years?’

He made it sound extraordinary that she’d lasted three minutes. What did he think she was—a sex junkie? Taking into account how she’d behaved that night, Alice realised as a fresh wave of horror submerged her that that was exactly what he was likely to think.

‘Celibacy seems remarkably attractive when the alternative is sex with you!’

‘A challenge?’ he enquired silkily, looking in no way disturbed by her rash declaration.

He sounded as though he’d enjoy making her retract her claim. The bad part was she knew that he could.

‘No, it wasn’t,’ she admitted stiltedly, already regretting her reckless response.

‘You lashed out—I make you panic.’ The air of benevolent understanding didn’t sit easily with the prowling hunger in his eyes. ‘I wonder why?’

Alice exhaled noisily. ‘You can ask that? You calmly say you’re going to take me to bed for a week and I’m supposed to be calm. Panic!’ she squeaked indignantly. ‘Anyone would panic.’ She paused and drew breath into her hungry lungs.

‘I can think of several people of the female variety who would be flattered, at the very least.’

‘You’re so full of yourself,’ she jeered, examining the complacency of his thin-lipped smile with growing dislike. He was the sort of man to whom things—including women—especially women—had always come far too easily.

And I didn’t exactly break the trend, did I?

The slow smile that that spread across his face was devilish. She couldn’t understand why she hadn’t noticed his similarity to the guy with the pointy tail before.

‘I think I’d prefer it if you were full of me. I think you would too.’

It was a full twenty seconds before the scandalous imagery of this crude, shocking statement hit her. ‘I … you …’ she choked.

The desire that ran through her veins was hot and thick. She had obviously lost all sense of decency, she concluded, horrified by the tingling currents of excitement created by the abrupt hormonal overload. Her breasts were straining against her thin bra; her body was almost audibly humming with mindless desire.

The thick veils of dark lashes brushed against the high crest of his cheekbones and Gabriel’s nostrils flared.

‘As one,’ he agreed throatily, looking directly at her.

She cleared her throat noisily. If she fell in heap now he’d think she made a habit of it. It wasn’t easy to remain upright.

‘I suppose you think talking like that is a turn-on!’ she sneered.

‘I can only speak for myself. And you can probably see for yourself how turned on I am.’

Alice gave a mortified little moan. ‘You’re the most vulgar man I’ve ever met!’ It was a struggle after what he’d said to keep her eyes on his face.

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