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The Magnate's Tempestuous Marriage
Miranda Lee
The perfect marriage...?Mining magnate Scott McAllister thinks that inexperienced, biddable Sarah is the perfect wife. Until he’s led to believe she’s committed the ultimate betrayal! When he confronts her, Sarah’s defiant response astounds Scott, sparking a desire to uncover these unseen passionate depths…Sarah is furious Scott believed such lies, but even more furious that her body can’t forget the seductive magic of his! The sheer power of their attraction and Scott’s pull over her is overwhelming…In this fight to save their marriage, their bed is the ultimate battleground! Unless Scott can persuade Sarah that surrender is more fun with two winners…


The perfect marriage?
Mining magnate Scott McAllister thinks that inexperienced, biddable Sarah is the perfect wife. Until he’s led to believe she’s committed the ultimate betrayal! When he confronts her, Sarah’s defiant response astounds Scott, sparking a desire to uncover these unseen passionate depths...
Sarah is furious Scott believed such lies, but even more furious that her body can’t forget the seductive magic of his! The sheer power of their attraction and Scott’s pull over her is overwhelming...
In this fight to save their marriage, their bed is the ultimate battleground! Unless Scott can persuade Sarah that surrender is more fun with two winners...
‘I’m going to leave, Scott, and I suggest you don’t try to stop me.’
He straightened, his broad shoulders squaring as he faced Sarah with narrowed eyes. ‘Are you planning on leaving me for good?’
‘I don’t know yet. We’ll have to wait and see.’
‘What does that mean, exactly?’
‘It means I need some time away from you, Scott. Time to think and to work out what I should do.’
‘I don’t want you to leave,’ he growled. ‘Look, I’m sorry for what I did. Sorry I jumped to conclusions.’
‘No,’ Sarah said, resisting the temptation to accept his apologies and stay. ‘Scott, we don’t even know each other. I can see that now. We got married way too quickly. All we have between us is lust. And that’s not enough for me. I need to have a husband who truly loves me and trusts me unconditionally.’
‘You expect too much.’
‘Perhaps. But I refuse to settle for less.’
Marrying a Tycoon (#ud76f25cd-23d5-5509-8131-e5faadd195a8)
Australia’s most eligible tycoons meet their match at the altar!
Magnate Scott McAllister believes he has the perfect compliant wife—until she defies him! Suddenly he discovers the passionate nature she hides… and is determined to awaken it!
The Magnate’s Tempestuous Marriage
Available now!
Tycoon Byron Maddox doesn’t do commitment, but shy PA Cleo intrigues him instantly! He wants her in his bed—but will he want her to wear his ring?
Look out for Byron and Cleo’s story, coming soon!
You won’t want to miss this dramatic, passionate duet from Miranda Lee!
The Magnate’s Tempestuous Marriage
Miranda Lee


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Born and raised in the Australian bush, MIRANDA LEE was boarding-school-educated, and briefly pursued a career in classical music before moving to Sydney and embracing the world of computers. Happily married, with three daughters, she began writing when family commitments kept her at home. She likes to create stories that are believable, modern, fast-paced and sexy. Her interests include meaty sagas, doing word puzzles, gambling and going to the movies.
Books by Miranda Lee
Mills & Boon Modern Romance
Taken Over by the Billionaire
A Man Without Mercy
Master of Her Virtue
Contract with Consequences
The Man Every Woman Wants
Not a Marrying Man
A Night, A Secret…A Child
Rich, Ruthless and Renowned
The Italian’s Ruthless Seduction
The Billionaire’s Ruthless Affair
The Playboy’s Ruthless Pursuit
Three Rich Husbands
The Billionaire’s Bride of Vengeance
The Billionaire’s Bride of Convenience
The Billionaire’s Bride of Innocence
Visit the Author Profile page
at millsandboon.co.uk (http://millsandboon.co.uk) for more titles.
Contents
Cover (#u3abfaed5-e992-542f-9b3d-72b488df8e9a)
Back Cover Text (#uc055d9fc-d2d8-52de-87e3-2ef38f842ee8)
Introduction (#ued1a2871-8eab-5a44-9be0-516145679ba7)
Marrying a Tycoon (#ue1e5beb2-5622-54af-98e7-ed3c446555c0)
Title Page (#u50461693-6ce7-553a-9bc9-32aec767fdd2)
About the Author (#u6ee68c00-f3ed-56b9-b744-70bbc2480780)
PROLOGUE (#u6e66df9a-33d5-536e-a483-5d8208eb4571)
CHAPTER ONE (#ud7103ea8-018a-5515-9f65-8fcabb842b2c)
CHAPTER TWO (#ud4c23886-1312-5505-a29c-d8c89eea7c42)
CHAPTER THREE (#u03134bba-bbad-5c55-9bd5-b36659eed701)
CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINETEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)
AUTHOR’S NOTE (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
PROLOGUE (#ud76f25cd-23d5-5509-8131-e5faadd195a8)
SARAH SAT AT her desk, twiddling her thumbs, bored to tears. Thank God it was Friday. Only a couple of hours to go and the working week would have ended, as would her tedious stint in Contracts and Mergers. Sarah hadn’t become a lawyer to spend her days filling out forms and asking people to sign on the dotted line. Anyone could do that. It didn’t take four years of study, doing a law degree.
When she’d been offered a job at the prestigious legal firm of Goldstein & Evans, Sarah had imagined herself becoming the champion of the underdog, righting wrongs and representing innocent people in court. Instead, in the seven weeks since she’d joined the firm in January, she hadn’t even come close to setting foot in a court. She’d spent one week in Conveyancing, two in Trustees and Wills and then two in the family law section, which had not been to her liking at all. Still, at least it had been more interesting than what she’d been doing this last fortnight.
Sarah was infinitely grateful that next week she would be moving on to the criminal and civil defence team, which was more her cup of tea. They had a pro bono section where some of the lawyers—usually the new ones, she gathered—were assigned to people who needed but could not afford legal representation. Sarah was looking forward to that.
Meanwhile, she rolled her eyes as they returned to her laptop where she’d been filling in time, doing some research on a client who was coming in to sign a sales contract at three o’clock. For a diamond mine, no less! His name was Scott McAllister and he was supposedly some hotshot mining magnate whom Bob—her current mentor—said she should have known. Apparently he’d been on the TV a lot lately, because of a nickel refinery that was going bust, whose threatened closing down would cost a lot of jobs. Sarah wasn’t a great watcher of news programmes so she didn’t have a clue who he was.
The Internet, however, had a reasonable amount of information on Scott McAllister. One of Australia’s youngest mining magnates, he had his finger in a lot of mining pies, having interests in iron ore, gold and coal as well as nickel and aluminium. And now diamonds, she added to the list. Apparently, he’d got his start after his prospector father had died over a decade earlier, the son soon discovering that two of his parent’s seemingly worthless purchases of land held hidden treasures. One had some decent-sized deposits of iron ore underneath which had originally looked like useless rock. The other was chock-full of brown coal.
Bingo! Good old Dad. Luck, it seemed to Sarah, had played a big part in this McAllister’s success. Not according to Bob, however, who insisted their client was a very astute man, who had a history of buying rocks of his own and turning them into diamonds, for want of a better word.
‘Several reports stated that the diamond mine he’s buying today is all mined out,’ Bob had told her earlier today. ‘But a man like McAllister wouldn’t be buying it if that were the case. Clearly, he knows something that the present owners don’t know.’
He’d sounded full of admiration for the man. Sarah wasn’t quick to admire any man. But she’d looked him up just the same out of sheer curiosity.
Clicking onto a different site, she encountered a photograph of him that didn’t tell her much other than he was very tall and very well built. It had been snapped at a work site where all the men, including the owner, were wearing yellow safety vests and yellow hard hats. The caption underneath disclosed it was a recent photo, taken at the nickel refinery last month during a strike. It was impossible to see what McAllister really looked like as he was also wearing sunglasses. Amazing how much the eyes told you about a man’s looks. What she could see of his face was large and tough-looking, with suntanned skin, a strong nose and a squared jaw that could have been carved out of granite. A frown on his high forehead gave him a thoughtful look, but the set of his mouth was hard and uncompromising. He was reputedly only thirty-five, but he looked older. Not married, she’d also read, and decided that wasn’t surprising. He didn’t look like the type of man many women would take to, despite his wealth.
Bob’s phone started to ring. Muttering a swear word under his breath, he swept it up to his ear. Thirty seconds later he swore even harder.
‘Sorry,’ he apologised to her. ‘But McAllister has arrived early and the other parties aren’t here yet. Neither have I finished reading through this damned complicated contract. Look, could you do me a favour and go down and welcome him? Take him up to the boardroom on the next floor and get him a coffee, or a drink or whatever he might like. You’re good at that sort of thing.’
Sarah had no doubt she was. She’d been doing nothing much but getting coffee for Bob and his cohort since she started in this section. Might as well have been a waitress as well as a clerk. But her mother had taught her good manners, and excellent social skills. So she just smiled and said it would be her pleasure.
He beamed back at her. ‘You are such a good girl,’ he said.
Sarah might have taken offence if Bob had been any less than the sixty-three years he was. She was twenty-five years old. Twenty-six this year. Hardly a girl!
Rising, she smoothed down her skirt and pushed her hair back from her face before making her way from the office and along the hallway to Reception, glad in a way to have something to do. And to be honest, she was quite curious about the man she was about to meet, curious to see what he looked like without those sunglasses.
She spied him straight away, sitting all alone on one of the black leather two-seaters that dotted the large reception area. Dressed in a dark grey business suit, a white shirt and a rather dreary navy tie, he was leaning back with his arms outstretched along the back of the couch, his right foot hooked up over his left knee. His shoes, she noted, were clean but far from new. Fashion, she realised, was not one of this man’s long suits. Maybe mining magnates didn’t care about such things.
Disappointingly, his eyes were closed, but she could see the rest of him more clearly. His hair was dark brown and cut very short on top, and even shorter at the sides; a very macho look, which suited him. His nose was bigger than she’d originally thought, but his face could handle it. His mouth was wide and his top lip on the thin, slightly cruel side. His bottom lip was fuller, though not full enough to soften his hard face.
Even before he opened his eyes, Sarah knew Scott McAllister wasn’t a traditionally handsome man but there was something about him that she found perversely appealing. Odd, since she’d never been attracted to big macho-looking males, always finding them physically intimidating. She much preferred lean, elegantly handsome men who had more brains than brawn.
She stopped a metre short of his feet and cleared her throat. ‘Mr McAllister?’ she said, a sudden burst of nerves making her voice higher than she would have liked. Her drama teacher at school had once called her voice lilting. She found it a touch girlish, not a voice designed to make a great impact in court. But she was working on it.
His eyelids rose, and she finally saw them. His eyes...
An icy grey, with surprisingly long lashes. Not hard. But definitely on the cold side. Yet strangely hot at the same time. Hot and hungry. They took her in with one long sweeping glance, all of her, making her breath catch and her cheeks colour. Not a fierce blush but a blush all the same. How humiliating!
‘That’s me,’ he drawled as he unfolded himself and stood up, towering over her own five feet eight. And she had heels on as well! Not high heels admittedly, but still...
Her neck craned as she gazed up at him, her mouth having gone annoyingly dry. Suppressing a groan, she surreptitiously licked her perversely dry lips and adopted what she hoped was still a sophisticated persona.
‘The present owners of the mine aren’t here yet,’ she said with one of those coolly composed smiles she could summon on autocue. ‘So Mr Katon sent me down to look after you till they arrive.’
He didn’t return her smile. Just stared at her, his eyes like molten steel.
A returning heat started up deep inside her, melting her core and making her want to do and say the most outrageous things. The control she had to exert over herself was enormous.
‘If you’ll follow me, sir,’ she suggested, still coolly polite on the surface.
‘Sweetheart,’ he said, a small smile now lurking at the corners of that cruel yet sexy mouth. ‘I’d follow you into hell.’
Sarah’s mouth dropped open, the realisation hitting her with a certainty that was as strong as it was seductive that she felt exactly the same way about him.
CHAPTER ONE (#ud76f25cd-23d5-5509-8131-e5faadd195a8)
Sydney, fifteen months later...
SCOTT STOOD AT the window behind his desk, staring blindly out at the view. Not that there was much of a view. The office block that housed the head office of McAllister Mines stood in the southern end of Sydney’s CBD, not down at the more picturesque harbour end of town. There was no soothing water to look at. No sparkling Opera House. No beautiful parks or gardens. Just traffic-clogged streets and rather boring buildings.
Not that anything would soothe Scott that Monday morning. Never in his life had he felt such emotional upheaval. He’d been distressed when his father had died. But death, Scott decided, was easier to cope with than betrayal. He still could hardly believe that Sarah would do this to him. They’d only been married a year, yesterday their first wedding anniversary. And whilst Scott harboured a degree of distrust in the female sex, Sarah had been different from the women responsible for his cynicism. Very different. That she would cheat on him seemed...incredible.
The text—with photos attached—had arrived on his business phone last Friday afternoon, shortly after he’d finished meeting with a Singapore billionaire who was staying on the Gold Coast, and whom Scott hoped would help solve his current cash-flow problems. Fortunately, he’d been alone at the time, as his first reaction had been utter shock. Followed by total disbelief. Gradually, however, he was forced to accept the evidence before his eyes. The incriminating photos, after all, had been crystal-clear, all of them stamped with the time and the date when they’d been taken. At lunchtime that very day.
And then there had been the accompanying message.
Thought you might like to know what your wife is getting up to when you go away.
It had been signed, ‘A friend’.
Hardly, Scott thought bitterly. More likely a business enemy of his, or a jealous female colleague of Sarah’s. His wife was the sort of girl who would inspire jealousy in other women. And in her husband. Not that that meant Sarah was innocent. His father used to say that if something looked like a duck, waddled like a duck and quacked like a duck, then the odds were pretty high that it was a duck. It didn’t take Scott long to accept that his wife was having an affair with the superbly dressed, very handsome bastard who featured in those damning photos.
Scott would never have thought himself capable of the kind of black jealousy—and almost uncontrollable fury—that had seen him abandon his PA, Cleo, on the Gold Coast to finish his business negotiations for him, making the excuse that Sarah had been taken ill, then flying straight home to confront his adulterous spouse.
But he hadn’t confronted her straight away, had he?
A measure of guilt—or was it shame?—curled in his stomach at what he had done.
He’d meant to have it out with her immediately, still harbouring some vain hope that there might be a logical explanation to this nightmare. But when he’d strode into their apartment that evening, she’d literally thrown herself at him, seemingly overjoyed by his cutting his business trip short to be with her. Her kisses had been wildly passionate, more so than usual. Whilst their sex life up till now had been more than satisfactory, Sarah was not an aggressive partner. She always left it up to him to make the first move; to take the lead in bed matters. Not that night, however. She’d been quite bold with her actions, touching him intimately as she’d kissed him.
Guilt, he decided now in retrospect.
Perversely, after she’d fallen asleep that night, exhausted from their sexual marathon, he’d been the one who’d felt guilty. Crazy, really. Why should he feel guilty? She was the guilty one. She was the adulterer, not him.
She’d blatantly lied to him about what she’d done that day—telling him she’d been shopping at lunchtime for a fabulous anniversary present for him. But he knew exactly what she’d been doing at lunchtime that Friday.
He’d left her then and gone to his study where he’d acted like the Neanderthal he felt like, drinking himself into oblivion before passing out on the sofa.
Which was where she’d found him the next morning.
And where their final ugly confrontation had begun...
It hadn’t been pretty, Scott still stunned by the accusations Sarah had thrown at him. And the names. In the end, she’d walked out on him. And she hadn’t come back.
By Sunday night Scott was forced to accept that Sarah might never come back.
Something that should have pleased him no end, but, perversely, it hadn’t. As much as he wasn’t the type of man who would countenance having a wife he couldn’t trust, Scott couldn’t get past the niggling doubt that maybe he’d been wrong to jump to the conclusion he had. Maybe he’d made a terrible mistake.
A knock on his office door startled him out of his troubling thoughts. ‘Yes?’ he bit out as he turned away from the window.
Cleo came in somewhat tentatively, the look she gave him speaking volumes. There was worry in her dark eyes and concern on her face. Scott had given her a potted version of the truth when he’d arrived this morning, knowing that it would be impossible to keep lying to Cleo. She wasn’t just his PA. After three years of working closely together she’d become his friend as well. She’d been more shocked than he was, if that were possible, declaring her disbelief openly.
‘Sarah would never be unfaithful to you, Scott. That girl loves you to death!’
Yes, well, he’d always thought so too. But obviously, he was wrong. Cleo, as well.
Scott would have shown her the photos, if he still had them. But he’d given the phone in question to his head of security last Saturday afternoon to have the damned things investigated.
Showing Harvey the photos of his wife with another man had been mortifying to say the least, but he simply had to make sure the photos were genuine and discover who had sent them. Plus he wanted to find out everything he could about the man involved. Lord knew what he would do once he found out his identity.
The man in the photos was facially handsome but he wasn’t as tall or as well built as Scott, his frame on the lean side. Elegant, though. And a snazzy dresser. Scott hated him with a passion.
‘Harvey just rang to say he was on his way up,’ Cleo said, interrupting his jealous train of thought. ‘Do you want me to get you both some coffee?’
Scott had been waiting for Harvey to report back to him all morning, but now that the moment was here he wished he’d never started on this course of action. He should have made Sarah stay and talk to him; should have insisted on her explaining those photos. Though what explanation could there possibly be? She hadn’t denied their veracity. Her outrage that morning had been directed at him, and what he’d done the night before. Okay, so he should have shown her the photos as soon as he arrived home but he hadn’t. Naturally, he’d still been too angry with her the following morning to apologise for what she called his caveman mentality. Her attempts to put the blame on him had almost worked, too. After she’d stormed out of the apartment, he’d begun to think that maybe she was innocent.
Till he’d looked at the photos again.
Scott’s teeth clenched down hard in his jaw after which he glanced up at his patient PA. ‘No coffee right now, thank you, Cleo,’ he told her, doing his best to sound normal and not like a man about to face a firing squad. ‘Oh, and, Cleo...thanks for standing in for me last Friday. I don’t know what I would do without you.’
Cleo shrugged. ‘Afraid I didn’t do you much good. The investor made it obvious that he didn’t like dealing with a female, especially one who’s under thirty. Still, if you want my opinion, you’re better off without his money. I didn’t like the look of him at all. He had shifty eyes.’
Scott smiled a wry smile. Cleo had the habit of judging people by their eyes. And strangely, she was usually right. She’d prevented him making errors in judgment several times. And she had liked Sarah, had thought her the loveliest, nicest girl. He supposed no one could always be right.
‘I’ll scratch him off as a potential partner, then,’ he said.
‘That would be my advice. Still, you’ll need to find someone else quick smart, Scott, or you’ll have to shut down the nickel refinery. Maybe the mine as well. You can’t keep running both at a loss indefinitely.’
‘Yes, I know that,’ he bit out. ‘Look, do some research and see who might be open to investment. Someone from Australia maybe. Ah, Harvey’s here. Come in, Harvey.’
Cleo left them to it, Harvey’s poker face revealing absolutely nothing as he walked in. Harvey was in his mid-fifties, a big burly man and totally bald, with a craggily handsome face, an uncompromising mouth and cold blue eyes. He’d spent twenty years on the police force and another ten as a private detective before he’d become Scott’s head of security. His bouncer-like appearance made him an excellent bodyguard, a job he’d done for Scott on occasion. Being a successful mining magnate did have its hazards, especially when a mine had to be closed, even temporarily. Despite his blue-collar appearance—Harvey was wearing jeans and a black leather bomber jacket—Harvey was also an IT expert, an invaluable security tool in this day and age.
Scott shut his office door then waved Harvey to one of the two armchairs in front of his desk.
‘So what have you found out?’ he asked straight away, hiding his escalating tension behind a brusque tone.
Harvey’s eyes carried the closest thing to compassion that Scott had ever seen in them.
His heart sank, his stomach swirling with sudden nausea. Slumping into his office chair, he scooped in a deep breath then let it out slowly. ‘From the look on your face, I presume you haven’t any good news to tell me.’
‘No.’
A man of few words, was Harvey.
Scott gathered himself in readiness for the worst. ‘Okay, shoot,’ he said.
Harvey leant forward and placed Scott’s phone on the desktop before settling back into the chair.
‘First things first,’ he said matter-of-factly. ‘The phone used to send you those photos was a throwaway. Couldn’t be traced.’
‘I suspected that,’ Scott said. ‘Were they real, though? The photos?’
‘Yes. They weren’t doctored in any way.’
Scott swallowed the bile that rose in his throat. ‘What about the dates and times they were taken?’
‘Also real. I was able to confirm everything by checking the hotel’s security vision. They have cameras set up everywhere.’
‘And what hotel was it?’
‘The Regency.’
Scott’s gut tightened. The Regency was a five-star hotel that was a stone’s throw from the building where Sarah worked. ‘What else have you found out?’ he asked, resigned to more bad news.
‘I spoke to a member of the bar staff who was working last Friday at lunchtime. He remembered Sarah.’
Of course he did, Scott thought grimly. Any man who wasn’t blind would remember Sarah. She was a stunning-looking girl with long creamy blonde hair, big blue eyes and a mouth that would tempt Saint Peter himself. Add to that a slender but shapely figure that was always housed in softly feminine clothes and you had a package that drew every man’s eye—and kept it.
Scott had never forgotten the first moment he’d laid eyes on her. It had been just on fifteen months ago. He’d been in the process of buying a clapped-out diamond mine he’d had a hunch about and had arrived early for an appointment at Goldstein & Evans, a Sydney legal firm he always used for signing business contracts. Sarah had been sent to greet him, acting more like an accomplished hostess rather than the newly graduated lawyer that he’d soon found out that she was. Scott had fallen madly in love at first sight. She’d confessed to him one week later on their third dinner date that she’d been similarly smitten with him.
And he’d believed her. Three months later she’d become his wife. One year later, it looked as if she was about to become his ex-wife.
Scott cleared his throat. ‘What else did the barman say?’
‘He said they looked pretty cosy together. Sat off in a very private corner. Didn’t drink much. Just talked. Then after about fifteen minutes, they upped and left.’
‘Right,’ Scott bit out. They both knew exactly where they’d gone. The photos had told the story. First, the man had gone to Reception and booked a room. Then they’d ridden up in the lift and gone into the room, not emerging till forty-five minutes later.
‘On the plus side, the barman did say he’d never seen her in there before,’ Harvey added.
Terrific. But there were other hotels in Sydney’s CBD. Heaps of them.
‘The guy looked familiar, though,’ Harvey went on. ‘Been there with some other woman on a few occasions. A brunette.’
‘Did you find out who he was?’
‘Yup. His name is Philip Leighton. Mid-thirties. A lawyer.’
‘And he works for Goldstein & Evans.’
‘Spot on. In the family law section. He specialises in divorces. Society divorces mainly. People with money. His own family is wealthy. His father’s a senator. Word is Mr Leighton has his eye on going into politics himself. He’s not married and doesn’t have a permanent partner. Quite the ladies’ man, according to a work colleague of his I spoke to this morning. “A silver-tongued charmer” was the way this chap described him.’
Scott tried to blank his mind out to where that silver tongue might have been, but it was impossible, a black cloud of jealousy descending to darken his mood further. He hated being taken for a fool. And Sarah had taken him for a fool. Her outrage last Saturday morning had all been a sham to deflect attention away from her own guilt. The plain truth was Sarah had allowed herself to be seduced by that smooth-looking bastard.
Maybe if you hadn’t been going away on business so much lately, it wouldn’t have happened...
God, now he was making excuses for her!
Scott sat up straighter in his chair before sending his head of security what he hoped was a composed look. ‘Is there anything else you have to tell me about my wife’s relationship with this Leighton fellow?’
‘Only that she didn’t go to him after she left you on Saturday. He owns a house on the North Shore, and there’s no sign of her—or her car—at his address.’
Was he relieved at this news? He didn’t feel relieved. His gut churned some more.
‘She’s probably gone to stay at Cory’s,’ Scott muttered. ‘He’s her best friend. Sarah met him at university.’
Scott didn’t elaborate, mostly because he didn’t know all that much about the circumstances behind his wife’s close friendship with the young architect. It came to him suddenly that he didn’t know all that much about his wife’s past all round. She’d told him during their whirlwind courtship that her mother was dead and she was estranged from her father and her only sibling, an older brother. There’d been a bitter divorce when she was a teenager, with the brother siding with the father, despite the bastard being unfaithful to his wife. He’d never questioned her further about her past. He’d also never grilled Sarah over her friendship with Cory, mainly because he wasn’t worried about Cory. He rather liked the fellow. And Cory liked him back.
He probably doesn’t like me now, Scott thought. Not after Sarah told him what I did last Friday night. And she would have. She told Cory everything. They were like two teenagers sometimes, laughing and chatting to each other on the phone for hours. Scott would have liked to be a fly on the wall at Cory’s place right at this moment. Though possibly he wouldn’t find out anything. It was Monday, after all, and both of them would be at work.
Suddenly, Scott wanted Harvey gone so that he could make some enquiries of his own. He stood up and strode around his desk where he stretched out his hand.
‘Thank you, Harvey. You have gone over and above. I am most grateful.’ At least he now knew where he stood. Though he still didn’t know everything. And it was eating away at him. Did Sarah love this man? Had she ever loved him? Scott could have sworn she did. But then, he could have sworn she would never have cheated on him.
And she had.
‘My pleasure, boss,’ Harvey replied, rising to take Scott’s hand. ‘Sorry I wasn’t able to bring you better news.’
‘Like our one-time Prime Minister said, Harvey, life isn’t meant to be easy.’ Or love. Because he still loved his unfaithful wife. Lord knew why!
As soon as Harvey was out of earshot, Scott took out his personal phone and brought up the number for Sarah’s workplace. When he found out she wasn’t at work, having called in sick, he wasn’t sure what to think. Sarah never took days off, going into work through thick and thin. She loved her job, especially since being stationed permanently in the firm’s pro bono section, which helped people without the funds to pay for a lawyer. She’d worked on a variety of cases so far, including one of unfair dismissal plus several sexual discrimination cases, most of which she’d won. It certainly wasn’t like her to take a day off work without good cause.
Scott frowned. Clearly, Sarah was still upset. But with him, or herself? Maybe she’d only been unfaithful the once. Maybe she regretted it as soon as she’d done it. Maybe that was what her behaviour last Friday night was all about, her trying to make it up to him for what she’d done.
Suddenly another truly appalling thought occurred to Scott. Maybe she’d run off with this Leighton fellow, taken off interstate or even overseas.
Scott’s heart did a savage somersault, then stopped entirely. ‘Is Mr Leighton in this morning?’ he somehow managed to ask the receptionist, his voice gravelly.
‘Yes, he is, sir. Do you wish to speak to him?’
Relief had Scott quickly pulling himself together. ‘Not right now,’ he said firmly. But he would. Soon. First, he needed to speak to Sarah. Depending on what she revealed, then he would be speaking to Leighton. Though he doubted it would be a civil conversation. Scott could feel his temper rising just thinking of that sleazebag who thought nothing of seducing another man’s wife. There was no doubt in his mind that Leighton would have been the one to make the first move. Sarah simply wasn’t the unfaithful type.
Or was she?
It was becoming clear to Scott that maybe he didn’t know his wife at all!
Shaking his head, he brought up Sarah’s number, expecting that it would be turned off as it had been all weekend. It wasn’t, but it was engaged. Who was she talking to? Cory? Or her sleazebag lover? On top of that, where was she? Still at Cory’s place, probably.
Scott didn’t hesitate, knowing that he couldn’t sit there in his office, stewing over things. It was time to face Sarah again, and to insist on knowing where he stood. Grabbing his suit jacket from the coat stand in the corner, he dragged it on then hurried out to where Cleo was sitting behind her desk, frowning at her computer screen.
‘Have to go out, Cleo. Things to do. Cancel any appointments I have this afternoon and take the day off. You deserve it.’
Cleo glanced up and sighed. ‘You’re not going to do anything foolish, are you, Scott?’
‘Not today. I did that just over a year ago.’ When he’d married a girl he didn’t really know, a girl who was an enigma in this day and age.
Because Sarah had been a virgin when he’d met her.
As he hurried down to the basement car park Scott began to wonder with some of his old, well-earned cynicism towards the opposite sex if she’d had a secret agenda in keeping her virginity so long. Now that he thought about it through less rose-coloured glasses, how she’d got through high school then university untouched, along with two years backpacking around the world, was beyond credibility. Unless she’d always wanted to marry money, and had seen her virginity as the perfect weapon to ensnare the right rich sucker. Namely him.
Scott had come across quite a few gold-digging females since he’d made it big in the mining world, but none of them had been virgins. Not even close.
He hadn’t questioned Sarah’s inexperience at the time; had accepted her explanation that she’d been wary of the opposite sex for a long time because of her cheating father. He’d also eagerly swallowed the added seductive reason that till he came along, she’d never met a man who’d made her really want to have sex with him.
Not that she’d used the word, sex, at the time. She’d said make love with. Naturally. Nothing crude about Sarah. She was the epitome of femininity, her large liquid blue eyes windows to a soul that seemed as pure as it was incapable of deception.
More fool him. They said love was blind. Well, they were right, he thought angrily as he jumped into his Mercedes and gunned the engine. But he wasn’t blind now. And he wanted answers. Lots of them!
CHAPTER TWO (#ud76f25cd-23d5-5509-8131-e5faadd195a8)
‘ARE YOU SURE you don’t need me to drive you over there, sweetie?’ Cory said. ‘You might need help to carry things. I can easily take the afternoon off work. We have flexible hours here.’
‘Thanks for the offer, Cory, but I would rather do this by myself.’
‘And you’re quite sure Brutus won’t be there?’
Sarah winced at the new nickname Cory had given Scott. Not that it wasn’t appropriate. The man was a brute to do what he had last Friday night, all under the guise of passion. Her stomach curled at all that she had allowed, and enjoyed. That was the worst part. How much she had enjoyed Scott’s ravishing of her entire body. Her face flamed at the memories of the humiliating noises she’d made, the way she’d pleaded with him not to stop.
When she’d found out the next morning that he’d acted out of jealousy and revenge, her shock had quickly changed to fury.
‘You don’t honestly think he wouldn’t have gone to work, do you?’ she said bitterly. ‘Trust me when I say only an atomic bomb landing on him would keep Scott away from his precious office on a Monday morning.’
‘From what you told me, last Saturday morning was a little like an atomic bomb going off.’
Sarah was not a girl who lost her temper easily. But when she did...
‘I can’t tell you how mad I was!’
‘You don’t have to, sweetie. I saw for myself when you arrived at my place. You were spitting chips. Till you started crying, that is. For a while there over the weekend, I thought I might need a life jacket.’
‘Please don’t try to make me laugh, Cory. That man has broken my heart. What he did was unforgivable.’
‘Why? Because he acted like a lot of men might have acted? When I found out Felix was cheating on me I was hotter for him than ever.’
‘But you didn’t love Felix and I wasn’t cheating on Scott!’
‘But it looked like you were...’
Sarah groaned. ‘I know. I know.’
‘I think you should call Scott and explain why you were at that hotel with your lawyer friend. After all, from what you told me those photos were pretty damning.’
‘And then what? Scott says sorry and we just go on to live happily ever after? I don’t think so, Cory.’
‘Ah, I forgot. You’re a Scorpio. They never forgive or forget. By the way, has it crossed your mind to wonder who might have sent those photos in the first place?’
Sarah sighed. ‘I’ve thought of little else all morning.’
‘Someone you work with perhaps?’
‘No one comes to mind.’
‘It has to be someone who hates you. Or hates Scott, more likely.’
‘It could be the same person who told Phil those rumours about Scott and Cleo,’ Sarah speculated.
‘You’re absolutely right,’ Cory said excitedly. ‘I told you from the first that it had to be some kind of set-up. Otherwise how could he or she have been at the right place at the right time to take incriminating photos of you and Phil at that hotel? That’s far too coincidental. I think it has to be someone you work with, Sarah, someone who saw you leave together that lunchtime and followed you.’
‘But who?’
‘Search me, sweetie. But I do know that if you let this destroy your marriage, then that person has won.’
‘It’s Scott who’s destroyed our marriage,’ Sarah bit out. ‘The bottom line is he didn’t truly love me, or trust me. He jumped to conclusions and didn’t give me the chance to explain. He didn’t care how I would feel because he doesn’t really care about me. I can see now that I was only ever a trophy wife to him. Arm candy to be trotted out at social functions, with the added bonus of sex whenever he felt like it. When he’s home, that is. Which has become less frequent during the last six months. I actually thought he’d cut his business trip short last Friday so that he could be with me on our anniversary weekend. What a fool I was in more ways than one.’
‘Wow. You’re still very angry with him, aren’t you?’
‘You can say that again. Look, I must go. The cleaners would have left by now and I want to be out of the apartment before Brutus gets home.’
‘You’re calling him Brutus now,’ Cory pointed out drily.
‘Yes, well, if the cap fits he should wear it.’
‘You do realise that hate is the other side of love.’
‘Oh, yes. I certainly do. Have to go, Cory. I’ll see you tonight.’
‘I’ll bring home Chinese,’ he offered. ‘And some nice wine.’
‘That would be lovely. Thank you.’
Tears pricked at Sarah’s eyes as she hung up. Cory was a dear friend. And so kind. Whatever would she have done without him this last weekend? Sarah didn’t have a lot of friends, her few girlfriends from high school having drifted away after she left school and went to university. The same thing happened after her poor mother died at the end of her first year of university. Unable to study—or grieve properly—Sarah had taken off to go backpacking around the world. By the time she returned to Sydney University two years later, her earlier student friends had also moved on. Her own fault, Sarah accepted, having not kept in touch via social media, depression dogging her footsteps for such a long time, especially during the first twelve months of her backpacking getaway. Europe remained a blur, nothing of the incredible sights she’d seen touching her soul or brightening her life. She’d gone from city to city in a fog.
It wasn’t till she’d reached Asia that the fog had finally lifted. Maybe it was the truly warm, gentle people she’d met there. The children had been especially adorable and the twelve months she’d spent travelling through India and Thailand and Vietnam had banished her depression, plus her bitterness, showing her that maybe it was still possible for her to overcome her wariness where men were concerned and find love. Maybe even get married and have children. Though that had seemed a stretch at the time.
Still, by the time she’d come home to Sydney and resumed her studies, she’d been way more open to at least try to give the opposite sex a chance. Though she’d still had no intention of leaping into bed with anyone in a hurry. It had been an enormous stroke of luck that during her first semester back at Sydney University she had met Cory.
Sarah smiled wryly as she looked back on that time in her life when she’d imagined Cory might just be ‘the one’ to banish her wariness of the opposite sex—and sex—for good. Not only was he fun to be with, he was quite gorgeous to look at. Very sexy with his blond hair, bedroom blue eyes and a buffed body. Whilst she hadn’t been mad for him—she hadn’t known what it was to be mad for a man back then—she had found him attractive. He’d seemed attracted to her as well. The ‘life of the party’ type, Cory had insisted she join the university book club and movie club with him and soon they’d been going out together. It wasn’t till she’d finally decided to take the big step and sleep with him that Cory had been forced to come out and tell her he was gay. Apparently, up till then he’d tried to deny it, even to himself, afraid that his parents would reject him.
But they hadn’t. After that, she and Cory had remained close friends, with Cory dating like-minded men and Sarah eventually becoming resigned to going to her grave still a virgin. Because no way had she been going to go to bed with a man she didn’t truly love and trust; trust being the most important part. In her mind she’d pictured a straight version of Cory. Someone sexy and intelligent and kind.
Unfortunately, she’d never seemed to meet such a man, not even when she’d left university and secured a plum job at a large legal firm that had wall-to-wall men walking around their corridors, men who had showed they found her very attractive. But none of them had done anything for her, not even Phil, who was super handsome and super intelligent and really very nice. Too old, however, at thirty-five. Despite her lack of success so far, Sarah had kept dreaming that one day she would meet Mr Perfect, fall madly in love, get married and have at least two perfect children.
Scott McAllister’s entry into her life had blown apart all Sarah’s misconceptions over the kind of man she imagined falling madly in love with. For starters he looked even older than Phil, yet it turned out he was the same age. He wasn’t traditionally handsome. Neither was he university educated. In fact he’d never even gone to high school, spending his teenage years travelling the outback with his prospector father. Despite that he was obviously intelligent, a self-made mining magnate with perhaps more money than manners; the strong silent type who didn’t waste words, or time. Superbly fit, with the body of a champion boxer, Scott McAllister was a macho man in every way, bulldozing his way into her life with very little subtlety.
She’d never forgotten the moment they’d first met, Scott’s normally icy grey eyes glittering with a raw animal lust as they’d travelled over her from top to toe. Her body had flamed in instant response. And from that moment, she’d been his. It had been just a matter of time. He’d asked her out to dinner within five minutes of meeting her. And she’d been unable to say anything but yes, her body consumed with desires which had been as corrupting as they’d been compelling. How she’d lasted three dinner dates before succumbing to Scott’s constant requests to go home with him afterwards was a miracle.
Of course, he’d been stunned over her being a virgin. But not displeased. In fact, he’d seemed quite taken by the idea, confessing that he’d never been with a virgin before.
Soon, she hadn’t been able to get enough of his big, strong body and his passionate but still considerate lovemaking. She’d adored how safe she always felt in his arms. How truly loved. Feeling truly loved was just as important to Sarah as the physical pleasure she experienced in bed with Scott.
Or so she’d believed, till last Friday night...
‘Don’t think about that night any more, Sarah,’ she lectured herself aloud. ‘You’ll go mad if you do.’
Shaking herself violently, Sarah went in search of her handbag and car keys. Ten minutes later she was heading across the harbour bridge, making a list in her head of what she had to collect from the apartment. Work clothes, of course. She couldn’t call in sick every day. Neither could she go in there wearing the jeans she’d worn all weekend, or one of Cory’s track suits, which was what she was wearing today. She needed toiletries too, of course. And the rest of her make-up. After her argument with Scott last Saturday morning she’d bolted out of the apartment with nothing much. Her going-out clothes could wait till another day, she decided. Sarah couldn’t see herself going out much in the near future.
But what if there wasn’t another day? What if Scott threw her out and changed the locks? It was the sort of thing her husband might do. He was not a man who took kindly to being crossed, let alone betrayed. As much as she hated to admit it, those photos had made her look as if she were having an affair with Phil.
No, she would have to collect all of her things today whilst she had the chance.
Sarah took the exit that would lead her down to McMahon’s Point, her attempts at a more pragmatic mood disappearing with the sight of the tall block of harbourside apartments that she’d called home for the last year. A happy home, she’d thought, despite Scott’s many absences. She did understand that he’d been facing business difficulties during the last few months, with the mining industry not doing well, metal prices at an all-time low. His frequent business trips still irked her, however. But his returns were always extra joyful, last Friday night even more so after what she’d been through that day. She’d woken last Saturday morning with a delicious smile on her face.
Of course, at the time, she’d still been ignorant of the true reason behind Scott’s insatiable sexual appetite. And whilst the memory of some of his demands was slightly shocking, she’d also been secretly thrilled that at last she’d taken a less passive role in their sex life. On top of that, if she was brutally honest, she’d found her husband’s highly erotic lovemaking wildly exciting and extremely satisfying, her many orgasms addictively powerful. So she’d dressed and gone in search of Scott the next morning, already turned on by the thought that they would have the whole weekend together.
She hadn’t been turned on for long...
Sarah groaned, annoyed with herself for revisiting that painful encounter one more self-destructive time.
‘What a bastard,’ she muttered angrily as she drove down the ramp that led to the underground car park, stopping at the bottom to swipe her key card through the machine so that the security gate would rise. It was annoyingly slow, but at last she could drive through. Despite telling Cory confidently that Scott would be at work, she was still relieved to see that his car space was empty. She parked her red hatchback into her own allotted spot, locked it up then hurried over to the bank of lifts that would carry her up to the luxury high-rise apartment that Scott had bought a week before their wedding. Clearly, he’d wanted to impress his new bride. And he had.
It wasn’t the penthouse. But it was only one floor down from the top and was simply huge, its wide wraparound balconies having views to die for. The plate-glass window in the main living room formed a perfect frame for the Sydney Harbour Bridge, with the Opera House underneath it in the distance. The same view applied to the floor-to-ceiling windows in the master bedroom. At night, it all looked magnificent.
There were two guest bedrooms aside from the master suite, each with their own en-suite bathroom. Add to this two formal receptions rooms, a home theatre, another powder room, a gym and a kitchen that was large enough to satisfy the caterers Sarah employed whenever they had a dinner party. Which up till now was at least once a month. Sarah could cook but cooking several courses for a large number of guests—their dinner table seated twelve—and trying to play hostess at the same time was beyond her.
After letting herself into the apartment Sarah stood in the spacious marble-floored foyer for a long moment, remembering how impressed she’d been when she’d first seen this place. Despite not having been brought up poor—Sarah came from a middle-class upbringing—she’d been overawed by the size of the rooms, the expensive fittings, the elegant imported furniture. She hadn’t wanted to change a thing.
Sarah made her way down the carpeted hallway to the master suite. As she entered what had once been her favourite area in the house Sarah kept her eyes averted from the neatly made king-sized bed, trying desperately not to think of how it had looked last Saturday morning with its tangled oil-stained sheets, not to mention the long blue chiffon scarf that had been draped haphazardly over the black lacquered bedhead. But despite her best efforts, Sarah did think about it, her mouth drying at the memory of how turned on she’d been by Scott binding her wrists like that; how he’d poured body lotion all over her and proceeded to show her exactly how much he knew about a woman’s secret fantasies. When he’d flipped her over and poured more lotion over her entire back, she hadn’t protested. Just pleaded for him not to stop.
And he hadn’t...
Oh, God.
Must not cry over last Friday night any more, she told herself sternly. Just get all your things and go!
Sarah hurried on across the thick cream carpet and into her walk-in wardrobe, where she pulled down the two large cases that they’d taken on honeymoon to Hawaii. She’d been happy then. Very happy. Scott had seemed happy, too.
Maybe that had all been an illusion. Maybe he’d always been a bit bored with her in bed. Sarah imagined most rich men eventually got bored with their trophy wives, which was why they traded them in for newer models a lot, or took mistresses, women who did even more kinky things than what she’d done with Scott last Friday night. Maybe those rumours about Scott and Cleo were right after all.
No—no. She refused to believe that. She hadn’t really believed it then and she didn’t believe it now!
Well, if you didn’t believe it, why did you rush into the hotel bathroom and throw up when the investigator said there was not a shred of evidence of Scott and Cleo having an affair?
The truth was, at the back of her mind, where old tapes from the past were stored, she had believed it. Of course she had. She was programmed to believe that most husbands were cheaters, and their silly wives forgave them much too often. It haunted Sarah to think what she would have done if the investigator had said the opposite. That yes, Scott was having an affair with Cleo. Would she have confronted him? Would she have left him? Was she actually leaving Scott now?
Perversely, the question of her forgiving him would probably never arise. Clearly, her husband believed she’d been unfaithful. More than likely, he would want a divorce. If there was one thing Sarah knew about Scott it was his black-and-white thinking. It was both his strength, and his weakness. Whilst she’d always admired his straight-down-the-line character, plus his total adherence to honesty and integrity, Scott could be slightly one-eyed over things. There was no grey in his thinking. Forgiveness would not come easily to Scott, not if he thought he’d been wronged. And he believed she’d wronged him.
Pushing aside this distressing train of thought, Sarah turned to begin taking some clothes off their hangers when she suddenly caught sight of herself in the full-length mirror that hung on the back wall of the walk-in wardrobe. Dear God, but she looked a fright. Her hair was awful, having not been washed properly in days. The need to recondition her straw-like locks with her own lovely products suddenly became a necessity. It wasn’t as though Scott was going to come home unexpectedly and catch her, naked, in the shower. She had plenty of time to be out of here before he left his precious office.
But she still hurried, wanting to be out of the place as soon as possible.
CHAPTER THREE (#ud76f25cd-23d5-5509-8131-e5faadd195a8)
WHEN SCOTT DROVE into the underground car park and saw Sarah’s car parked in its allotted space, the frustration he’d been feeling at not finding her at Cory’s house revved up a notch. She hadn’t been sick at all, had she? She’d snuck home here whilst she believed he was at work, no doubt to collect her things, plus possibly anything else she fancied. He’d heard of such things happening to other men who’d come home to find their houses stripped clean.
This furious thought stayed with him during his ride up in the lift, his angry mood lessening once he let himself into the apartment and discovered that nothing was missing. The artwork was still on the walls and all the expensive knick-knacks still there.
When he called out to Sarah, however, she didn’t answer, leaving him with the sudden far more awful thought that maybe she’d brought her car back—it had been a Christmas present from him—and just left it, then taken a taxi off to Lord knew where. The realisation that Sarah might have done such a thing, that she was leaving him permanently, and that he would never have the opportunity to find out the truth, made him feel sick to the stomach.
It was then that he heard the faint sound of water running somewhere. Recognising the sound, Scott dashed down the hallway to their bedroom, where he noted that the bathroom door was shut. Clearly, Sarah was having a shower. Scott could not deny the relief that flooded him. But there were some other confusing emotions too. Surely he wasn’t hoping she’d come home seeking a reconciliation? Surely she didn’t expect him to forgive her?
Glancing to the left of the bathroom door, he saw that their walk-in wardrobe door was open. Scott marched over to stand in the doorway, his hands curling into fists as he stared down at the two open cases on the floor, his teeth clenching down just as hard. Okay, so she wasn’t looking for a reconciliation, then. Good. All Scott wanted—or so he told himself—was an explanation of her actions.
It had niggled him all over the weekend that he’d been neglecting Sarah lately, leaving her alone way too much, not giving her the kind of attention that she’d obviously been secretly craving. Last Friday night had shown him that, at least. She’d been a different woman in his arms that night. Wild. Wanton. Bold. The kind of woman another man would do anything to get, and whom a husband would never be able to forget.
Scott groaned at the possibility that Sarah might not have been thinking of him when he’d been inside her last Friday night. She might have been thinking of the man she’d been with that lunchtime, whom she’d probably been with every time he went away on business.
The sudden silence from the bathroom coincided with his mood turning very dark indeed. Scott threw off his suit jacket and tie, flicked open the top button of his shirt before kicking off his shoes then stretching out on top of the bed. His stomach churned as he waited for his unfaithful wife to emerge, but his mind remained hard, and cold.
* * *
Sarah dried herself quickly, wrapping her wet hair in a towel before grabbing the long pink silk robe that she kept on a hook on the back of the bathroom door. Not an overly sexy garment, it was nevertheless pretty and very comfy with three-quarter-length sleeves in the kimono style. No way was she going to leave it behind. Pulling it on over her flushed nakedness, she tied the sash loosely around her waist before tossing the towel aside then drying her hair properly with her hair dryer, which was much more powerful and efficient than Cory’s. With a much better result, she thought as she ran her fingers through her long straight silky locks before opening the bathroom door.
The unexpected sight of Scott lying on top of the bed brought a gasp of alarm to her lips. Despite his nonchalant pose—his hands were linked behind his head and his ankles were crossed—there was nothing nonchalant in his chilly grey gaze.
‘I gather you’re not staying, then,’ he drawled, his voice as cold as his eyes.
Sarah could not find her tongue, fear drying her mouth and making her heart pound behind her ribs. She’d never been afraid of Scott before but she was at that moment.
‘No,’ she croaked out at last. ‘I...I just came to get my clothes.’
Scott uncrossed his ankles then sat up abruptly. ‘There’s no need to sound so petrified, Sarah. I would never hurt you. Surely you must know that.’
‘You hurt me last Friday night,’ she threw at him.
‘Now you know that’s not true,’ he ground out, standing up and towering over her. ‘You enjoyed every moment of what we did last Friday night. Please don’t add hypocrisy to your adultery.’
Her hand whipped up to slap him but he grabbed it before she could make contact with his face.
‘Come now, Sarah,’ he said. ‘Let’s try to act like adults here, shall we?’
For a long moment she thought he was going to pull her against him. The intent was in his glittering grey eyes. Her already racing heartbeat accelerated further. When he released her, she could not decide if she was relieved or disappointed.
A rueful smile twisted his mouth.
‘I suggest you go put some more clothes on and we adjourn to somewhere less...dangerous. I find myself unable to focus with you nearly naked like that. All I can think of at this moment is how much I still want you, despite everything.’
Sarah’s mouth dropped open at his startling admission. Even more startling was the fact that she wanted him just as much. How perverse was that?
It rattled her, this irrational but powerful urge she had to close the space between them, to reach up and kiss that hard, angry mouth of his.
His eyes narrowed on hers, perhaps glimpsing the crazy jolt of desire in their depths. For suddenly, his hands reached out to grab her shoulders, dragging her against him as his head swooped.
She could have fought him; could have been the ultimate hypocrite. But she didn’t, moaning under his quite brutal kiss, melting against his big strong body, her lips and her hips betraying her own frantic desire.
Insane. All of it. Sarah knew he still thought she’d been unfaithful to him. But right at this moment she didn’t care what he thought. All she cared about was the here and now. And the here and now was turning her on to a degree that surpassed even last Friday night. She kissed him back with a quite savage need, telling him without words that she was still his, no matter what he believed.
When he wrenched his mouth away, she groaned in protest, staring up at him with wide glazed eyes.
‘God, Sarah,’ he ground out, then kissed her again, obliterating every sensible thought with the wildness of his passion. His mouth stayed glued to hers whilst he stripped off her robe, tossing it aside with careless abandon. By then she was trembling violently, but not from cold. A large lock of hair had fallen across her face, and eyes. She stared through the strands up into his lust-filled face. It thrilled her, this knowledge. She was already lost to the mindless world he’d created last Friday night; a world of excitingly erotic pleasure, which didn’t seem to possess a conscience, only a craving for constant satisfaction.
His hands slowly scooped her hair back from her face, bundling it into a tight bunch at the nape of her neck as he pulled her head back, his captive hold doing wicked things to her traitorous body. He glared down at her, his face flushed, his breathing ragged.
‘Don’t go thinking this means I forgive you,’ he threw at her.
‘I’ve done nothing for you to forgive,’ she managed to say. But he only laughed, then kissed her again, kissed her and touched her till she was beyond protest, let alone wordy explanations. When he scooped her up and dumped her sideways across the silvery-grey quilt, she just lay there, quivering with need whilst he hurriedly undressed. And then he was on top of her, and inside her, and she was making those animal noises again, holding him tight as she opened her legs wide and wrapped them high around his back. She moved with him, moaning his name and reaching for that moment when her flesh would shatter around his. Her climax came with a rush, making her cry out, wracking her body with wave after wave of pleasure. It was brilliant. Glorious. She gasped with the electric pleasure of it all.
But the moment the tsunami of ecstasy began to wane, common sense blasted back into her brain, bringing with it the crushing reality of what she had just done.
‘Oh, God,’ she groaned, her tongue giving voice to her acute dismay. How could she have let him do that, believing what he still believed? How could she have enjoyed it, knowing this? At least last Friday night, she hadn’t known about those photos, or what Scott had been thinking.

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