“You must be joking!” She’s sexy, successful... and PREGNANT! Title Page CHAPTER ONE CHAPTER TWO CHAPTER THREE CHAPTER FOUR CHAPTER FIVE CHAPTER SIX CHAPTER SEVEN CHAPTER EIGHT CHAPTER NINE CHAPTER TEN Copyright

“You must be joking!”

“The results plainly show....”

“Stuff and nonsense!” Samantha exclaimed. “The whole idea is so ludicrous.”

“Nevertheless, you are pregnant,” the doctor continued in a firm but gentle voice. “You are expecting a baby... a January baby. That’s nice.”

“Nice...?” Samantha gasped. It wasn’t that she didn’t want a baby. It was just... well, she hadn’t even gotten around to thinking about marriage, children and all that stuff. That was part of life which, up to now, she’d always thought of as being an experience that lay ahead of her. Something to look foward to, in the future. Not when she’d just achieved the first, great success of her career. And most definitely not when her brief love affair with the baby’s father had proved so disastrously short.

But whatever happened, she definitely was going to keep her baby. Now for the One Million Dollar Question: what was she going to do about Matt?

She’s sexy, successful... and PREGNANT!

Relax and enjoy our new series of stories about spirited women and gorgeous men, whose passion results in pregnancies... sometimes unexpected! Of course, the birth of a baby is always a joyful event, and we can guarantee that our characters will become besotted moms and dads—but what happened in those nine months before?

Share the surprises, emotions, dramas and suspense as our parents-to-be come to terms with the prospect of bringing a new little life into the world.... All will discover that the business of making babies brings with it the most special love of all....

Look out next month for:

Accidental Baby by Kim Lawrence

Harlequin Presents®#2034

The Playboy’s Baby

Mary Lyons

www.millsandboon.co.uk

CHAPTER ONE

‘WELL, young lady, we’re certainly all looking forward to hearing your presentation this afternoon.’

The grey-haired chairman of one of the largest corporate businesses in America smiled down at the slim blonde girl standing beside him. ‘I understand that you are intending to tell us all about the European Bond Market,’ he added with a distinct twinkle in his eye.

‘Well... er...’ Samantha Thomas cleared her throat nervously, desperately trying to think of what to say to this well-known and highly distinguished man, who quite obviously knew far more about the subject than she did.

What on earth was she doing here, in New York? she asked herself, feeling sick with nerves as she tried to control the small coffee cup and saucer from rattling in her trembling hands.

How could she have been such an idiot as to even think of agreeing to give a keynote speech at this financial seminar? Especially when she ought to have known that it would be attended by so many high-powered bankers and economists—all of whom were obviously far more intelligent and successful than she could ever hope to be.

However, as if able to read her mind, the elderly businessman gave her a friendly pat on the shoulder.

‘When you’ve been in the job as long as I have,’ he said, ‘you’ll realise that no one is so smart—or so clever—that he or she can’t learn something new, every day. So, don’t worry. I’m sure that you’ll do just fine,’ he added with an encouraging smile, before his attention was claimed by a group of corporate tax lawyers on the other side of the small ante-room.

Allowing a passing waiter to pour her another cup of strong coffee, Samantha made a determined effort to pull herself together. After all, she would never have been asked to speak at this prestigious conference if the organisers had felt she was likely to make a fool of herself. And besides, she was now in charge of her own team, in the UK pension fund department at Minerva Utilities Management, in London. Right? All the same...

Her gloomy, nervous thoughts were interrupted as she heard her name being called out by Candy, one of the assistants to the conference organiser, as she quickly wove her way towards Samantha through the crowd of people.

‘I’m so sorry that I had to rush off halfway through lunch!’ Candy exclaimed hurriedly. ‘Unfortunately, there’s been a bit of a problem with this afternoon’s seminar. The person who was supposed to be introducing your talk was taken ill late last night. So, my boss has been on the phone all morning, trying to find a replacement. However... it’s been sorted out now. And it’s all thanks to you,’ Candy added with a laugh. ‘You certainly seem to have some friends in high places!’

Feeling slightly bewildered by the rapid, breathless flow of words, Samantha struggled to make sense of what the other girl had been saying.

‘I don’t understand... What “friends in high places”? I hardly know anyone in New York.’

‘Oh, yeah? That’s not what I hear!’ Candy grinned. ‘So, what is it with you and the glamorous Mr Matthew Warner?’

‘Mr Matthew Warner?’ Sam echoed blankly, her brain in a complete daze for a moment as she stared open-mouthed at the dark-haired girl standing beside her. ‘Well... yes, I did once know someone of that name. But... but that was in England. And a very, very long time ago. I’m sorry, but I think... well, I really think you must be mistaken.’

‘Oh, really?’ Candy grinned again. ‘Well, it seems that Mr Warner certainly remembers you. In fact, he was categorically refusing to help us out until my boss faxed over your CV to his office. And then, what do you know? Hey Presto! His personal assistant phones to say that he’d be delighted to chair the meeting—and to renew his acquaintance with an old friend.’

Samantha’s head was still spinning as the other girl gave her a quick dig in the ribs.

‘Uh-huh! Look—there he is. Standing by the door, on the other side of the room,’ Candy muttered out of the side of her mouth. ‘And if you have managed to forget such a gorgeous man—I reckon you must need your head examined!’ she added with a muffled laugh. ‘Not only tall, dark, handsome and incredibly rich—but also, I hear on the grapevine, currently unattached. What more could any girl ask for in her Christmas stocking?’

‘It’s still only April—so you’ve got a long time to wait,’ Sam found herself muttering inanely as she turned to look across the room.

‘Who cares?’ Candy giggled. ‘I’d be happy to have him delivered gift-wrapped any time of the year!’

But Samantha wasn’t listening. Every ounce of her being was concentrated on focusing on the tall, dark man standing in the doorway, clearly relaxed and at ease as his gaze travelled slowly around the chattering groups of people in the small room. And then, as their eyes met, he stood very still for a moment before giving a slight nod of wry acknowledgement as he began walking slowly through the crowd towards her.

Her first, overriding thought was that someone had obviously made a bad mistake. It couldn’t possibly be the man to whom she’d lost her heart all those years ago.

For one thing, Warner was a fairly common surname. And besides, the Matthew Warner whom she’d known had been a young lecturer at Oxford University—normally clothed in scruffy jeans and a well-worn, slightly threadbare jacket, like most of his academic contemporaries. Absolutely light years away from this immaculately dressed, distinguished-looking man who was now strolling so coolly and confidently towards her.

And yet... well, maybe there was something disturbingly familiar about the tall, elegant stranger...?

As he drew nearer, Samantha was almost physically aware of the colour draining from her face. Her senses, clearly far more alert than her dazed mind, instinctively responding as she felt her stomach give a sudden, sickening lurch of fear and recognition, her pulse beginning to race out of control as he came to a halt in front of her nervous, trembling figure.

‘Hello, Sam. It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?’

Samantha was rigid with shock, and it was some moments before she was able to comprehend the evidence of her own eyes and ears. And then she knew, with absolute certainty, that there was no possibility of a mistake.

While she might have been momentarily fooled by the expensive, hand-tailored dark suit, pristine white silk shirt and discreet silk tie, there was no disguising that oh, so familiar, deep, husky tone of voice.

Oh, my God! It really was Matt Warner, his green eyes beneath their heavy lids glinting with wry amusement as he gazed down at her stunned expression—the very last man in the world she had ever expected, or wanted, to see.

Well. . .certainly not here, in New York. And most definitely not now—just as she was about to give the most important speech of her life.

It simply wasn’t fair! Samantha told herself bitterly, standing silently by as Candy quickly grabbed the opportunity to introduce herself. If she’d ever hoped to meet up again with the man who’d so cruelly broken her heart—and, being only human, of course she had—she could never have devised such a disastrous scenario.

Her favourite fantasy had tended to revolve around the idea of Matt—by now reduced to begging a living outside the Royal Opera House in Covent Garden—humbly grateful for the coin idly thrown his way as she, dressed up to the nines, swept past him on the arm of a handsome, mega-rich captain of industry. It had most definitely not involved her standing here, wearing a boringly conventional, navy blue business suit, and totally paralysed with nerves. For heaven’s sake—was there no justice in this world?

‘And how long are you staying in town?’

Rapidly struggling to pull herself together, Samantha realised that she’d hardly heard a word he’d been saying.

‘I. . .er. . .I’m just here for a few d-days,’ she stuttered helplessly, her mind still in a chaotic daze.

His lips twitching with amusement at her evident confusion, Matt asked where she was staying—nodding approval at her choice of the Mark Hotel, on East Seventy-seventh Street.

‘They’ll certainly make sure that you are well looked after. So, what do you think of New York?’

‘It’s an amazing place... so alive and exciting,’ she murmured distractedly, before giving a helpless shrug of her slim shoulders. ‘I’m sorry, Matt. I don’t seem to be able to concentrate on anything just at the moment. I mean... it’s really great to see you after all these years. But unfortunately I’m just about to give a speech. In front of all these really important people. And... and I’ve never felt quite so nervous in all my life!’ she gabbled wildly, the coffee cup and saucer clattering like a pair of castanets in her nervous, shaking hands.

In what seemed the twinkling of an eye, Matthew Warner quickly took control of the situation. Smoothly dismissing Candy with a charming smile, he calmly steered Samantha towards a small bar at the end of the room, where he proceeded to order her a glass of neat brandy.

‘Are you crazy?’ she exclaimed in horror. ‘The next thing you know, I’ll be had up for being drunk in charge of a podium!’

‘Rubbish! Drink it up,” he retorted.

‘It’s all very well for you,’ she protested, ashamed to find herself weakly doing as she was told. ‘You haven’t got to stand up in a few moments’ time and make an absolute fool of yourself before some of the cleverest financial minds in New York. I just know that it’s going to be an absolute disaster!’ she added helplessly, feeling almost faint with nervous tension.

‘Nonsense!’ he told her firmly. ‘Not only were you my best and brightest pupil all those years ago. But, if your current CV is anything to go by, it looks as though you’ve been moving swiftly up the corporate ladder, and achieving considerable success in your field.’

‘Well, yes, I suppose so.’ Samantha gave an embarrassed shrug of her shoulders, ashamed to have been caught off-guard and exposing herself to ridicule—by Matt, of all people.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t just the fact that her stomach seemed to be churning around like a cement mixer out of control, which was making her feel so peculiar. The close proximity of this man, whom she hadn’t seen for such a long time, didn’t seem to be doing a damn thing for her normally calm, stable equilibrium, either. Maybe another quick glance at her speech—which she’d spent hours writing last night—would help to steady her nerves?

‘I don’t want to hear any more of this “poor little me” nonsense,’ Matt was saying, a warm smile taking the sting out of his words as she extracted the typewritten pages from her handbag. ‘And, believe me, that’s definitely a bad mistake.’

‘What?’ She glanced up at him in confusion.

‘Are those the notes for the speech you’re intending to give this afternoon?’

‘Yes. I just thought that... Hey! What the hell do you think you’re doing?’ she exclaimed as he swiftly removed the papers from her hands.

‘I take it that you do know what you’re going to be talking about?’ he drawled, leafing quickly through the closely typed pages.

‘Of course I do!’ she snapped angrily, the strong, heady fumes of the brandy beginning to flow swiftly through her veins.

‘Well, in that case, you’ll have no need of these,’ he said, ignoring her gasp of horror as he swiftly tore the white pages in half. ‘With everything you have to say clearly in your mind,’ Matt added firmly, ‘there’s absolutely no point in allowing yourself to be distracted by continually being forced to consult your notes.’

‘Oh, great! Thanks—for absolutely nothing!’ she hissed furiously. ‘So, what the hell am I supposed to do now?’

‘What you’re going to do, my dear Sam, is to walk in there and give the speech of your life,’ he drawled, taking hold of her arm and leading her slowly across the room as they followed the other guests towards the conference hall.

‘I’ll never forgive you for this,’ she ground out savagely. ‘Absolutely never!’

He gave a low, maddening chuckle of sardonic laughter. ‘Oh, yes, you will! In fact, I fully expect to receive your grateful thanks, when I take you out to dinner tonight. ’

‘In your dreams!’ she snorted with derision.

‘Well, yes...’ he murmured, turning to look at the slim figure of the girl walking beside him, his glance travelling over the shining mass of pale gold hair caught up in a knot at the crown of her head, a few tendrils escaping to frame her lightly tanned, heart-shaped face and large blue eyes. ‘Yes, I think you could be right,’ he added enigmatically.

‘However, in the meantime,’ he continued firmly, ‘all you have to do is to take a deep breath—and then sock it to ’em. Believe me, you’re going to be a great success.’

Entering her hotel bedroom, Samantha tossed her handbag on to a nearby chair, before quickly slipping off her shoes and throwing herself down on the thick mattress of the comfortable, king-sized bed.

Phew! What a day this had turned out to be, she told herself, closing her eyes and allowing the strain and tension of the past few hours to seep gradually from her exhausted mind and body.

However galling it might be, she had to admit that Matt had been quite right, after all. Without the safety-net of written notes, she’d had no choice but to stand on the dais in front of so many people and, as he’d so graphically put it, ‘sock it to ’em’.

At the start of the afternoon session, as she’d sat beside him on the dais, desperately trying to ignore her sheer terror and stage fright, it had been some moments before Samantha had begun to realise that she was indeed very lucky to have Matt chairing the meeting.

From the moment he’d risen to his feet, welcoming the delegates and making one or two glancing references to events on Wall Street—which had left her completely baffled, but produced gales of laughter from the audience—he’d had everyone relaxed, cheerful and eating out of his hand.

So much so, that, when it was time to take her place on the podium, Samantha had finally managed to get a grip on herself. Suddenly realising that she did know what she was talking about, and with everyone apparently eager to hear what she had to say, she’d found no problem in getting her message across to the assembled company.

At the close of her speech, her ears had been ringing with applause as she left the dais. Trembling with a mixture of exhaustion and exhilaration, she’d found herself totally surrounded by a crowd of people. In fact she had been so busy—both accepting congratulations and answering the many questions raised by her speech—that she’d somehow lost sight of Matt. And unfortunately, by the time she’d managed to catch her breath and look about her, he’d been nowhere to be seen.

Feeling extremely guilty, since she really did owe him an enormous vote of thanks, there had been nothing she could do about the situation, other than allow herself to be chauffeured back to her hotel.

But now, as she sat bolt upright on the bed, she was dismayed to realise that she had no way of contacting Matt. She didn’t know where he lived. She hadn’t a clue as to the name of his business—or the location of his office. Nor, come to that, had she any idea of what he was doing here, in the United States.

Bitterly ashamed of having been so preoccupied with her own problems this afternoon that she’d completely failed to show any interest in Matt’s affairs—or to enquire what had happened to him during the past eight or nine years—she wondered what on earth she could do to rectify the situation.

After spending some moments buried in thought, Samantha soon realised that the only person who could help her was Candy.

Unfortunately, a quick glance at her bedside clock told her that it was now six-thirty on a Friday night. The other girl would obviously have left her office by now. Which meant that Samantha had no way of contacting her, or the organisation which had arranged the seminar, until first thing on Monday morning. And since she, herself, was due to fly back to England on Monday evening, she would have virtually no opportunity either to see Matt again or to thank him for his kindness and support this afternoon.

Still... maybe it was just as well. After all, despite what that silly girl Candy had said about Matt being ‘unattached’, it was virtually certain that such a handsome, attractive man would be either married—or heavily involved in a current, romantic relationship.

Besides... despite her total preoccupation with her own problems, the way her nerve-ends had been tingling during their brief encounter this afternoon wasn’t exactly good news. So, it was probably best—for her own peace of mind, anyway—that they should have no more contact with one another.

Despite having given herself such very good advice, Samantha lay back on the pillows desperately trying to control a sudden cloud of dark depression. Of course, there had been other men in her life—not to mention that brief, disastrous marriage which she’d made on the rebound from her romance with Matt. However, she’d never again experienced such an intense, profound depth of emotion as she’d once felt for the man who had so unexpectedly reappeared in her life.

Pull yourself together! she told herself roughly. That had all been a very long time ago—when she’d been as green as grass, and deeply in the throes of her first love affair. Her life was very different, nowadays.

And she had so much to be thankful for: a job which she loved and a glamorous, penthouse loft apartment which—despite having cost an arm and a leg—was proving to be a splendid capital investment. She was also the proud possessor of a speedy little BMW, and was earning what her parents and two sisters regarded as a totally indecent amount of money.

So, who needed love, romance and all that heavy stuff? Especially since it would only detract from her singleminded and whole-hearted devotion to her career. Oh, yes—she was now fully in control of her own destiny.

Just as she was assuring herself that she had a totally satisfactory lifestyle—and that an attractive and sexy man was the very last thing she needed in her life, at the moment—the fax machine on the desk across the room suddenly began to clatter.

This really was a wonderful hotel, Samantha told herself as she slowly rolled off the bed. Whilst cushioning its guests in total luxury, the Mark also had the added bonus of providing what was virtually an individual office in each bedroom. As well as the fax and phone on the Chippendale-style desk, there were also plugs and ports for her laptop computer, and any other fancy gismo which she might care to use.

All of which meant that she was able to keep in constant contact with her office, back in London, through phone, fax and e-mail. Although she was surprised that her office should be contacting her, since it must be about midnight in London. What sort of crisis could have blown up at this late hour? she wondered, frowning as she removed the message from the fax machine.

But it wasn’t from her office in London. Samantha’s eyes widened as she noted the name at the top of the page. Even she, unfamiliar as she was with the financial rating of American big business, knew that Broadwood Securities Inc. was one of the largest companies in the United States. Her eyes widened even further as she noted that the letter bore the signature of one Matthew Warner: chairman and chief executive.

She gave- an incredulous whistle. Oh, wow! It looked as if Candy had been quite right, after all. Because it was now clear that Matt was definitely a big cheese on Wall Street No wonder everyone in the audience, this afternoon, had been hanging on his every word!

In fact, it was rather depressing to realise that maybe her speech hadn’t really been quite so great, after all. Since she’d been heavily endorsed by one of the prime movers and shakers of the business world, it would have been a miracle if she hadn’t been listened to with serious attention.

Well, that’s put you in your place, my girl! Samantha told herself ruefully, before belatedly reading the rest of the letter, which was brief and to the point. Reminding her of his invitation, earlier this afternoon, Matt had made arrangements to take her out to dinner at the Four Seasons, and would be picking her up from the hotel at seven-thirty this evening.

Arrogant swine! For all he knew, she could be kneedeep in invitations for this evening. And, for at least five seconds, Samantha seriously considered faxing back a message, telling him to get lost!

However, swiftly recalling her need to thank Matt for his efforts this afternoon—quite apart from the fact that she really did want to see him again—Samantha glanced down at her watch, before giving a quick yelp of dismay. She only had about three-quarters of an hour in which to not only wash and dry her long hair, but also to find something ultra-smart to wear. Because even she, who hardly knew New York, was well aware that the Four Seasons was one of the most glamorous restaurants in the city.

Just over half an hour later, Samantha was regarding herself anxiously in the huge mirror in the bathroom.

Having only packed a few suitable clothes for what was, as far as she’d been aware, nothing more than a business trip, she could only thank her lucky stars that she had, at the last minute, tossed into her suitcase this little black dress. But was it too plain and boring?

A very simple sheath of black silk crêpe, which had been a mainstay of her wardrobe for the past few years, it was hardly likely to set the world on fire! Even the single row of pearls, while emphasising her long, slim neck, couldn’t manage to make an inexpensive dress look a million dollars.

Still. . . what the heck? There was absolutely no point in worrying too much about her ensemble, since there was virtually nothing she could do about it. And if Matt thought she didn’t look smart enough—well, that was just too bad.

However, from Matt’s appreciative glance, as he ran his eyes over her slim figure and long, freshly washed blonde hair, falling in a pale stream of liquid gold down over her shoulders, he didn’t seem too disappointed as, at precisely seven-thirty, he ushered her through the front door of the hotel, and into his chauffeur-driven limousine.

With its comfortable chairs and tables arranged around a glamorous marble pool, the restaurant was certainly living up to its reputation for being one of the ‘in’ places to eat in New York.

But what no one had ever told her, Samantha thought, gazing around at the soft lighting, the shimmering silver beads over the windows and the discreet waiters gliding silently around the room, was just how very romantic it all was. But maybe that was because, for her, the whole evening was fast taking on an air of unreality and increasing enchantment.

How could she have guessed that, despite the passage of so many years, both she and Matt would still seem to be on exactly the same wavelength, as if absolutely nothing had changed between them?

But, of course, that couldn’t possibly be true. Not when they’d gone their different ways, for such a long time. Which meant that she was going to have to be very careful.

The fact that they were both laughing at the same silly jokes, and actively enjoying snippets of business gossip about low doings in high places, didn’t really mean that much in the scheme of things. And if she was totally astounded to find that she still found him devastatingly attractive and—to be utterly frank—had difficulty suppressing an insane desire to throw herself into his arms, it was highly unlikely that he felt the same way.

Unfortunately, she hadn’t a clue as to exactly what Matt was thinking. Cool, calm and utterly charming, he was clearly setting out to give her an enjoyable evening. But, even while relating how, as a young professor at Oxford, he’d been head-hunted by an American bank, intent on setting up an economic ‘think tank’ to look at future economic trends—before recently joining his present company as chairman and chief executive—he gave no sign of how he felt about her, or their past relationship.

It was no wonder that their passionate affair had ended in tears, Samantha acknowledged with a heavy, inward sigh. Any romantic attachment between young students and their older professors had always been heavily frowned on by the university authorities. And now, with the aid of hindsight, she could see that Matt had undoubtedly acted quite correctly, both to protect his own academic position and also her future career.

However, the fact that she’d been utterly devastated when he’d so abruptly and cruelly terminated their relationship didn’t seem to make any difference. He was still, for her, the most attractive man she’d ever known.

Oh, Lord! Maybe it was the amount of wine which she’d consumed which was causing her to feel so incredibly weak and light-headed? Whatever the reason, she must... she really must pull herself together, Samantha told herself desperately, her fingers tightening convulsively around the stern of her delicate, crystal wine goblet as she struggled to clear her mind.

Unfortunately, it was proving extremely difficult to do so. How could she hope to banish the increasingly erotic, sensual memories, when they were sitting so close to one another? She was only human, for heaven’s sake! Every slight movement of Matt’s tall figure—each accidental brush of his hand, or the lightest touch of his powerful thigh against her own—made it virtually impossible not to recall the hot, fiery excitement of their lovemaking, all those years ago.

‘OK, Sam.’ His voice broke into her distracted thoughts. ‘That’s quite enough about me. What have you been doing for the past nine years?’ Matt drawled with a quizzical gleam in his eyes.

‘Well...’ she began, taking a deep breath and frantically attempting to ignore the almost overpowering, rampant sex appeal of this highly disturbing man. ‘It’s been madly hectic, of course. I’m now managing the pension funds of several large companies, and—’

‘No, that’s not what I meant.’ He interrupted her with a quick, dismissive wave of his long, tanned fingers. ‘I’m far more interested in your private life. For instance, I noted that there was no mention of a husband on your CV...?’

‘Well...’ she murmured, before taking a long, slow sip of her wine, her brain racing swiftly into overdrive as she frantically tried to think of an answer to his question.

How on earth, at this stage of the evening, could she possibly tell Matt the truth? He was bound to want to know what lay behind the break-up of her very brief, utterly disastrous marriage.

Agreeing to wed the painter, Alan Gifford, while still madly in love with Matt, had to be absolutely the worst decision she’d ever taken. On the rebound from their passionate affair, and still suffering from the agony and torment of his brutal rejection, she clearly hadn’t been in her right mind. How else to explain the fact that she had known her marriage was doomed, even as she’d walked down the aisle? That her predominant impulse had been an infantile desire to show Matt that she didn’t care. That even if he didn’t want her, or still find her attractive, there were plenty of men out there who did.

Oh, no... it was all far too embarrassing. She simply couldn’t face the shame of telling Matt what a fool she’d been. And definitely not here and now... in this glamorous restaurant. Surely the last place in which to relate such a miserably unhappy period in her life.

Despite knowing that she might well come to bitterly regret not telling him the truth—and deliberately closing her mind to the small voice of sanity, predicting trouble in store—Samantha took a deep breath and shook her head.

‘No. . .I’m not married,’ she said, comforting herself with the thought that she was, in fact, speaking the absolute truth. ‘I’ve obviously had some serious boyfriends, of course, but...’

‘Well, yes... I should think so,’ he drawled smoothly, his deeply hooded green eyes sweeping over her lovely face and long, newly washed blonde hair. ‘Is there anyone important in your life at the moment?’

‘No. . .er. . .not really,’ she muttered, bitterly aware of her cheeks reddening as she tried to avoid his gaze. Swiftly deciding to turn the spotlight away from herself, she asked, ‘And what about you?’

‘I’m still single,’ he told her. ‘Although I’ve obviously had quite a few girlfriends over the past few years...’

I just bet you have! Samantha thought grimly, ashamed to discover that she wasn’t immune from the acid green, needle-sharp pangs of sour jealousy. Which was absolutely crazy, considering both her own marriage and the fact that it was so long since she and Matt had seen one another.

‘And I have had a long-standing relationship with someone for the past three years.’

‘Oh, really?’ she murmured, doing her best to respond to his words with a warm, friendly smile. Quite determined—even if it killed her!—to appear happy to hear that he had a live-in lover, Samantha added brightly, ‘Maybe she ought to have joined us here for dinner tonight? In any case, you really must introduce me to your girlfriend when I’m next in New York.’

‘No, well, I’m afraid that might prove to be just a bit difficult,’ Matt drawled, his green eyes gleaming with amusement. ‘Because that particular relationship has recently been terminated.’

‘Oh, dear. I’m very sorry to hear that,’ she told him, privately appalled at how shockingly easy it was to suddenly become a barefaced liar. ‘What. . .er. . . what led to the break-up?’

Matt shrugged his broad shoulders. ‘It was entirely my fault, I’m afraid. Because when it came to the point of having to make some sort of permanent commitment, such as marriage, I suddenly realised that I couldn’t quite go the distance.’

He paused for a moment, before adding reflectively, ‘I suppose the harsh truth is that I discovered, in the nick of time, that I didn’t wish to spend the rest of my life with that particular lady.’ He gave another slight shrug. ‘So that was it. End of story.’

‘I’m sorry that it didn’t work out for you.’

‘There’s no need to be sorry,’ he grinned. ‘Quite frankly—just between the two of us—I rather think that I’ve had a lucky escape!

‘In any case, that’s all in the past,’ Matt continued firmly. ‘In fact, my dear Sam, I’d say that it’s both the present and the immediate future which looks far more promising. What do you think?’

You’ve got to get a grip on the situation! Samantha yelled silently at her weak, inner self as he attracted the attention of a waiter, and began settling the bill for their meal.

For heaven’s sake—she was certainly old enough to know when a guy was coming on to her. But, having spent the past two hours desperately trying to ignore this man’s overwhelming, dark attraction, she was now in such a state of tense, nervous exhaustion that she simply wasn’t capable of adding two and two—let alone able to guess what he had in mind for the rest of the evening.

‘I... er... I’m not quite sure what you mean,’ she muttered, when the waiter had left and they were alone once more.

‘Oh, come on, Sam!’ He raised one dark eyebrow, his eyes gleaming with amusement as he gave her a wry, mocking smile. ‘I mean that I think it’s definitely time we adjourned to my apartment, don’t you?’

Ah! Even her bemused mind was beginning to get the message by now—loud and clear! But he was going to have to spell it out. And in words of one syllable, she told herself tersely. After all, it was he who’d dumped her, all those years ago. So, there was no way she was going to make the first move. Absolutely not!

‘And what exactly do you have in mind, Matt?’ she queried, as lightly as possible, although she’d never felt so on edge, or so jittery, in all her life.

He gave a low rumble of deeply sensual laughter. ‘Now, that’s what I’ve always loved about you, Sam!’ he drawled, firmly clasping her nervous, trembling fingers.

‘It’s good to know you haven’t changed. That you’re still not interested in messing around, or playing games—but believe in keeping your eye firmly on the main issue for discussion! Right?’ he added as he raised her trembling hand to his warm lips.

‘Oh, Matt...’ she muttered helplessly, a deep flush spreading over her pale cheeks.

‘Relax, darling!’ he murmured, still keeping a firm grip on her fingers, his green eyes glinting with sardonic amusement. ‘I can, of course, offer you a drink or a cup of coffee. However, I’d much rather indulge in a bout of mad, passionate lovemaking. A fact, I may say, which has been at the very top of my agenda since approximately two o‘clock this afternoon! How’s that for plain speaking?’

‘Not bad!’ She grinned, suddenly feeling quite amazingly happy. And the, as he stared down at her, the gleam in his eyes carrying an unmistakable message, the slowly churning excitement in her stomach seemed to burst into a hot surge of overwhelming sexual desire, causing her to feel-almost faint as it raged fiercely through her quivering body.

‘So, like all good financial experts, I’d say that it’s definitely about time we began to discuss the present company’s imminent merger,’ Matt said as he rose to his feet. ‘Not to mention the pressing need to very closely examine the figures concerned!’ he added in a slow drawl, the thick, husky note in his voice positively making her toes curl as he turned to help her rise from the table. ‘What do you think, hmm...?’

It was some moments before Samantha—by now practically speechless with overriding lust and passion—somehow managed to get her act together.

‘I don’t seem to have a problem with that particular item on the... er... the agenda of tonight’s meeting,’ she murmured breathlessly as Matt took her arm and led her slowly out of the restaurant.

CHAPTER TWO

SAMANTHA’S heart was pounding like a sledgehammer, her pulse rate rocketing all over the place as she left the Four Seasons restaurant on Matt’s arm.

In what seemed a dream-like state, totally oblivious of everyone and everything, other than the tall, handsome figure by her side, she was only vaguely conscious of being helped into a large black limousine. As they were swiftly transported through brilliantly lit streets, she had no idea of where they were going. Nor did she care. Just as long as Matt continued to hold her firmly close to his hard, exciting body—they could have been jetting off to Timbuktu, for all she knew!

Coming to a halt at last outside an immensely large, brownstone building, she had only a brief impression of a uniformed doorman greeting Matt before he swept her dazed figure across a vast entrance hall—the only sound in the huge, silent space being the rapid, sharp click of her high-heeled evening sandals on the marble floor—and into an elevator. And then, in what seemed the twinkling of an eye, Matt was unlocking the front door of his apartment

‘Welcome to my humble abode,’ he drawled sardonically as he helped her off with her coat, before ushering her into a huge living room.

Finding herself standing in the midst of what seemed positively acres of lush, thickly piled cream carpeting, Samantha could only stare in open-mouthed astonishment at her luxurious surroundings. The opulent, heavy gilt rococo ‘French Château comes to New York via Hollywood’ style of decoration could only be described as utterly mind-blowing!

‘Make yourself comfortable by the fire,’ Matt directed, picking up a small black handset and pointing it at various objects as he strode towards a mahogany bar on the far side of the room.

Coming slowly back down to earth, she was just wondering how on earth he could bear to live in such dreadful surroundings, when she was startled to see the heavy cream silk, intricately draped curtains being slowly drawn—as if by invisible hands—across the windows, to shut out the chilly darkness of the April night. At the same time, the lamps in the crystal chandeliers slowly dimmed, the brilliant light being replaced by a soft, warm glow from the many occasional lamps dotted about the huge room.

However, when the logs in the massive grate, enclosed by an intricately carved marble mantelpiece, suddenly burst into life she quickly realised that what had at first appeared to be minor miracles were, in fact, merely a result of the appliance of science.

‘Is everything in this “humble abode” operated by remote control?’ she queried, her legs feeling wobbly with nerves as she moved slowly over to the fireplace.

‘No, not entirely. There are still one or two things which I’m quite capable of doing myself!’ Matt told her with a grin, his words accompanied by a loud crack as he removed the cork from a bottle of champagne.

‘It’s definitely all very... er... very grand,’ she murmured, gazing bemusedly at the delicately ornate, highly uncomfortable-looking sofas and chairs covered in blue silk which filled the room—whose walls, covered in dark oil paintings, appeared to be lined in the same blue material.

‘Ghastly, isn’t it?’ he laughed, filling two tall glasses with sparkling gold liquid.

‘Well...’

‘Following my recent appointment as chief executive of the company, I was working practically twenty-four hours a day when I first bought this apartment—which was in a terrible state and badly needed doing up. So, I made the grave error of placing its renovation in the hands of my ex-girlfriend—supposedly a top-notch professional decorator. The rest of the apartment is fine. So why she went so completely over the top in this room is completely beyond me.

‘Unfortunately,’ he added quickly as a mobile phone on the bar beside him gave an imperious buzz, ‘I simply haven’t been able to find the time to clear everything out and start again.’

While he was speaking rapidly into the phone, dealing with some urgent business matter which clearly required an immediate decision, Samantha became aware that the fog in her brain was slowly beginning to dissolve.

Sobering up fast, she realised that in accompanying Matt back here, to this luridly decorated apartment of his, she could have made a really bad, foolish mistake.

For one thing, it was never a good idea to try and recapture the past. Everyone knew that. So, why on earth had she allowed herself to be swept along on this tide of sudden, overwhelming lust and desire—which could so easily turn into nothing more than a highly embarrassing encounter?

Besides... this room was so awful, it seemed highly unlikely that a ‘top-notch’ interior designer would ever produce such a ghastly decorative scheme. Not unless the lady concerned had deliberately planned a not so subtle, bitter revenge against her ex-boyfriend.

Matt, as well as being a successful businessman, was clearly a bit of a playboy. He’d also admitted, in the restaurant, that he was definitely not into ‘commitment’. Which meant that it would be extremely unwise, Samantha told herself nervously, to get involved with someone who’d managed to provoke such a very ruthless, savage reaction from his discarded girlfriend.

So much water had flowed under the bridge since she’d first fallen head over heels in love with this man. Which had to mean that they were now two quite different people. Therefore, any idea that somehow time might have stood still—or that they could simply take up their relationship at the point where it had been broken off—was nothing more than total moonshine!

‘I’m sorry about that,’ Matt said as he finished his call, and tossed his mobile phone down on to a nearby chair. ‘I’ve turned the damned thing off—so we shouldn’t have any more interruptions,’ he added, walking across the room towards her.

‘This room has very good proportions,’ she observed nervously as he handed her a tall glass of champagne. ‘I mean... there must be many other good... er... good interior designers in New York. So, it shouldn’t be too hard to turn it into a... um... a comfortable home.’

Appalled to hear herself gabbling like an idiot, she took a quick sip of the deliciously cold, fizzy golden liquid—desperately trying to ignore the way her body was now responding with nervous, tingling excitement to the close proximity of his tall, lean figure.

If it were anyone else, she wouldn’t have a problem. It was just Matt and their past history together... which . must be the reason why she was suddenly feeling as jumpy as hell. So, the smart move must be to try to extricate herself from this tricky situation—as swiftly as possible.

‘Good heavens—just look at the time!’ she exclaimed shrilly, pointedly turning to glance at an ornate French clock, on a spindly side table. ‘I hadn’t realised it was quite so late. I... er... I really think that I should...’

‘I really think that you should calm down,’ he drawled smoothly, placing his glass down on the mantelpiece.

‘Nonsense! I’m perfectly calm,’ she snapped, utterly exhausted by the frantic pounding of her heart and yet, at the same time, feeling so desperately tense and on edge that it seemed as though she’d never again be able to relax.

But his only reply was a toe-curling, low rumble of laughter as he slipped an arm about her slender waist, deftly removing the tall champagne flute from her shaky fingers and placing it beside his own glass, before putting his other arm about her trembling body.

‘Relax, sweetheart!’ he murmured huskily, raising a hand to brush a stray lock of hair from her brow softly.

Shivering at the velvety touch of his fingers on her skin, which were now trailing slowly down over the long line of her neck, a rush of heat seemed to scorch through her veins, her stomach muscles clenching into a hard knot of feverish desire as he began pulling her closer to his tall figure.

Gazing helplessly up at him, she could see a muscle beating in his jaw, a slight flush on the high cheekbones beneath his tanned skin, with the glittering green eyes beneath their heavy lids now growing cloudy and opaque as he stared down at the trembling lips and the confused, troubled expression on her face.

‘I’m sorry, Matt. I...I know you must think that I’m an utter fool,’ she confessed in a husky, breathless voice. ‘But...’

‘On the contrary,’ he murmured thickly. ‘I think you’re sensationally attractive, and a very, very sexy lady.’

‘But, I shouldn’t have come back here, to your apartment It’s impossible to try and recapture the past,’ she protested. ‘Quite honestly, we...we could both be making a bad mistake.’

‘I’ve certainly made some wrong decisions in my life—but this definitely isn’t one of them,’ he told her flatly, the hard certainty in his voice sending shivers down her backbone.

‘No, you’re not thinking it through!’ she gasped.

He gave a low snort of derisory laughter. ‘I’m not interested in “thinking” about anything, at the moment. I just need to hold you...to feel you...’

‘Matt! This really isn’t a good idea,’ she muttered helplessly, aware that her body was denying her words of caution; that her swelling breasts and the visible hardening of her nipples were clearly signalling the rising tide of sensual need and passion, now sweeping through her trembling figure. But, quite unable to do anything about it, she could only gaze weakly up at the tanned face, now only inches away from her own.

‘Believe me, this is just about the only idea I’ve had since first setting eyes on you this afternoon.’

His deep, husky voice seemed to echo around the large room, time standing still as his arms slowly tightened about her.

And then, with sudden impatience, he pulled her hard up against his firmly muscled body, before lowering his dark head and possessing her lips in a long-drawn-out kiss of overwhelming sensuality.

At the first touch of his warm lips on hers, there could be no denying that this was what she had been both hungering for and yet, at the same time, fearing since first setting eyes on him this afternoon. She was powerless, totally unable to do anything other than eagerly respond to the mouth moving over her lips with insidious persuasion, gently forcing and probing them apart with a deeply erotic, seductive arousal that totally inflamed her senses.

Desperately attempting to cling on to some kind of sanity, Samantha felt as though she was helplessly caught up in the forceful tide which was pounding and rampaging through her body; betrayed by a deep compulsion to respond to her overwhelming need of him.

However, as his kiss deepened, it seemed as if some outside agency had suddenly pulled a switch—abruptly releasing a massive torrent of dangerous electricity, violently zigzagging like fork lightning through her body.

And, incredibly, it seemed as if the same explosive force of unstable, super-charged voltage was also sweeping like a flash-flood through his tall frame.

Totally gripped by an ancient, primitive force that was quite beyond either of them to control, all normal and civilised behaviour simply vanished into thin air. With their lips still firmly clasped together, he tore the clothes first from her body, and then his—all their garments being feverishly hurled aside as they wildly sought to satisfy their mutual, overwhelming need.

It was only when she became dimly aware of her naked form being roughly clasped to his bare chest, as he lowered her down on to the thick white rug in front of the fire, that she made a last, despairing attempt to cling on to sanity.

‘This is crazy...we must be out of our minds...’ she gasped as he covered her soft naked flesh with his own hard, firm body.

‘For God’s sake!’ he breathed thickly, his hands sweeping erotically over her trembling figure. ‘Are you really asking me to stop making love to you? Because if not, my darling,’ he added with a muffled laugh, pressing his warm lips to her swollen breasts, ‘can we please leave any argument about moral ethics and civilised behaviour until later?’

Unable to prevent a deep, responsive shudder from scorching through her body, she found her arms closing instinctively about him, her fingers curling into his thick dark hair as he pressed feverish kisses over her soft, warm flesh.

She wanted him. There was nothing...absolutely nothing in this world that she wanted more than the possession of this man. Racked by desire, her body burned and shook, her need of him so intense that it was like a deep, physical pain.

‘No, I...I don’t want you to stop...’ she gasped. ‘And yet...’

‘Oh, shut up, Sam!’ he groaned, before effectively putting a stop to any more of her hesitant protests, his mouth crushing her lips in a long, deeply sensual kiss of rampant possession.

A soft moan broke from her throat as she yielded to the intensity of his kiss, the sound provoking a deep, shuddering convulsion in the body pressed so closely to her own. And then she was lost, firmly in the grip of a basic, primeval force that seemed quite beyond both her control and his. There was no time for shame or regret as her fingers savoured the strong contours of his body, the flesh beneath her hands so achingly and poignantly familiar. The savage, raw passion which had been repressed for so long suddenly exploded passionately between them, their bodies merging in a wild, untamed hunger and overpowering need.

Much later, lying warm and drowsily replete, their limbs entwined together on the thick rug in front of the blazing fire, she became aware of Matt’s fingers trailing softly up over her body, to turn her face gently towards him.

‘Darling...’

‘Mmm...?’ she muttered sleepily.

Still feeling dazed at the passion which had so completely engulfed them, she was almost unable to believe the frantic intensity of her own reaction to his equally frenzied lovemaking. It seemed as if some wild, dynamic force had taken possession of her mind and body, igniting a fire in her blood which had raged totally out of control.

But now, as the first glimmer of harsh reality began to break through the thick mist in her mind, Samantha became aware of the first definite stirrings of unease.

‘Darling Sam,’ he said quietly, softly brushing stray locks of damp, pale blonde hair from her brow. ‘I hope you’re not expecting me to apologise for what’s just happened between us. Because I’m damned if I will! It was wonderful, glorious, totally sensational—and virtually inevitable.’

She trembled at the note of certainty in his voice as his arms closed possessively about her body.

Quite suddenly, each and every one of the high barricades and fortifications which she had erected so carefully over the past years now seemed in danger of being entirely swept away. And with them all sense of being in charge of her own destiny. It was frightening to realise that she might now be leaving herself dangerously exposed.

She had been deeply in love with Matt, all those years ago. But was it a resurgence of that deep emotion which she was now experiencing—or merely a sudden flash-flood of overwhelming lust? Because there was no point in denying the powerful sexual magnetism which lay between them. But she feared it would prove as unstable and potentially explosive as TNT—merely needing a light spark on the fuse to destructively blow her life apart, yet again.

With the touch of his fingers softly caressing the curves of her warm, naked flesh, it was practically impossible to try to think in a straight line. Even as she struggled to sort out the thoughts crowding into her brain, she found herself being gathered up into Matt’s arms and carried down a wide corridor to his bedroom.

‘I think we’ll both be much more comfortable in here,’ he said with a low laugh as he lowered her down on to the wide bed. ‘And I don’t want any arguments,’ he added firmly, rolling her beneath the sheets and joining her a moment later, before once more clasping her in his warm embrace. ‘We’ll have all the time in the world to talk later, OK?’

But ‘talk’ did not seem to be anywhere on his agenda when she found herself stirring some hours later, the first pale fingers of dawn gradually seeping in through the light, gauzy curtains at the window, and illuminating the room with a ghostly light.

Drowsily gazing at the unfamiliar surroundings, she turned her head to see Matt slipping silently into bed beside her. And, as he gathered her gently into his arms, she noticed, from the slight dampness of his flesh, that he must have just had a shower.

In a dream-like state, halfway between sleep and waking, she became aware, despite the fresh scent of soap on his skin, of the intoxicating aroma of his own spicy, individual body heat.

Carefully clasping her in his arms as if she was a cherished object, precious beyond compare, he gently kissed her mouth before tenderly trailing his lips down to the scented hollow at the base of her throat. She could feel his breath on her skin, his hands slowly moving down over the warm curves of her body, each lingering caress, each sensual and intimate touch generating tremors of deep pleasure, leaving her aching with the intensity of her need for his possession.

‘My darling!’ he whispered thickly. ‘Right from the first moment I saw you this afternoon—standing so nervously across the room—I suddenly knew just what a fool I’d been. It was totally devastating. Like...like being hit by a ten-ton truck!’

‘A truck...?’ she echoed, so bemused by the thrilling, velvety touch of his fingers on her quivering flesh that she was having difficulty in concentrating on what he was saying.

‘I suddenly realised just what a stupid idiot I’d been. We were always so great together. Both mentally and physically. Two halves of one whole. But it couldn’t work then, all those years ago...you were so very young...with the whole world in front of you.’

‘Oh, Matt...’

‘I’m absolutely crazy about you, Sam,’ he whispered huskily. ‘I always was, of course. But now...now we can handle it. We can make it work. In fact, I’ll make damn sure it does—because I’m not prepared to let you go again,’ he vowed, before giving a low groan of pleasure as he buried his face between the deep valley of her breasts.

As his hoarsely whispered words seemed to hang in the air of the quiet, still room, Samantha could almost physically feel the burden of uncertainty and doubt rolling away, like a great stone from her shoulders, her qualms and hesitant fears dissolving at the deeply sincere note in his voice, and in the direct heat of her own need and desire.

As his hands and mouth moved enticingly over her body, she was filled with wonder and amazement at just how familiar...just how right it all seemed, and how equally right Matt had been when he’d said how perfectly their bodies appeared to fit together.

His flesh was sweet and moist and firm as a summer apple. While his groans of delight, and the shudders that rippled through his body in the wake of her own, softly tender touch, as she caressed the oh, so familiar taut muscles and smooth, tanned skin, only served to increase her own pleasure and excitement.

She suddenly realised that making love with Matt again, after so many years, was like returning home from a long voyage, and rediscovering a familiar and intimate joy. And she could only marvel, silently, at why she hadn’t always known that it would be so.

In sharp contrast to their earlier, frantic coming together—when they’d been like two people dying of thirst in the desert, who suddenly discovered a lush green oasis—Matt was now slowly savouring her swollen breasts and aching nipples, his fingers and mouth exploring each intimate and private part of her quivering body. As her flesh opened to him like a flower unfolding in the sun, it seemed to her that he moved in love as he did everything else in life, smoothly and easily, clearly tempering the strong, pulsating thrusts of his possession to fit her own rhythm and pleasure, until she became lost to all sense of reality. Her whole existence seemed concentrated on the powerful, exquisite friction; an ever-increasing sense of wild exultation rapidly built up inside her, before the whole world appeared suddenly to explode and disintegrate about them, in shattered fragments of light and power.

When Samantha next opened her eyes, it was to discover bright sunshine flooding through the gauzy bedroom curtains, and Matt’s dark head on the pillow beside her.

Careful not to disturb his sleeping form, she eased herself carefully out of bed, before padding silently across the room towards the bathroom. As she had hoped, there was a large white towelling robe hanging on the back of the door. It dwarfed her slim body, of course, but after slipping it on and brushing her teeth with the aid of a brand-new toothbrush, which she’d found in the bathroom cabinet, Samantha decided that she now felt able to face the day.

Locating the kitchen proved to be a more difficult operation. It really was a huge apartment Quite apart from the awful, over-decorated main sitting room, there seemed to be at least two other bedroom suites, and a large study-cum-library.

Luckily, it looked as if his ex-girlfriend, the mad interior designer, had managed to get at least one room right. Standing just inside the door, she gazed around at the walls lined with books, their polished leather bindings in brown, red and green adding a warm glow to the severely masculine lines of a huge mahogany desk, covered in green leather chased in gold, with its matching green leather swivel chair set on a dark grey carpet.

It was clearly a room devoted to quiet, peaceful contemplation, either reading in one of the large, comfortable leather chairs beside the grey marble fireplace, or working at the desk. In fact, it could have been an eighteenth-century gentleman’s refuge, were it not for the black telephone, fax and modern laptop computer neatly positioned on the desk.

Feeling slightly ashamed of giving another quick glance around the room—well. Matt might have had a photo of his ex-girlfriend still lying around—Samantha firmly pulled herself together, and continued her search for the kitchen.

When she finally tracked it down, she was relieved to note that the large room was a purely functional one.

So, OK, the very modern decor—which mainly consisted of glass, and a mass of stainless steel over light oak-coloured floorboards—wasn’t everyone’s taste. But, since she had no problem with the cool Scandinavian style, she felt perfectly at home. And she was absolutely crazy about the enormous fridge, deeply envious of a piece of equipment which seemed designed to do just about everything except whistle a tune.

In fact, having poured herself some orange juice, she was just experimenting with its ice-making machine, when she nearly jumped out of her skin to hear Matt’s voice just behind her.

‘Good morning, darling. I was just wondering what had happened to my dressing gown,’ he murmured, laughing as she gave a shriek, spilling half the ice cubes on to the floor as she spun around to face him.

‘For heaven’s sake!’ she gasped, quickly bending down to clear up the mess around his bare feet.

‘Now... that’s what I like to see. A woman who knows her place. Which, in this case, appears to be on her knees in the kitchen, before her lord and master. Keep up the good work, Sam!’

‘Dream on—O Mighty One!’ she retorted with a snort of derisory laughter, gathering up the last ice cubes and rising to her feet.

‘Ah, well...bang goes one of my favourite fantasies,’ he drawled with a sardonic grin. ‘So, I guess it’s back to the real world, hmm?’

‘Damn right!’ she muttered nervously, evading his eyes as she walked over to the trash can.

She might have pinched his towelling robe, but she did wish he could have found something else to wear, other than that very short towel, wrapped so tightly about his slim hips. Because just at this moment it was desperately important that she keep her wits about her.

While exploring his enormous apartment,, she hadn’t been able to prevent her mind from see-sawing back and forth, trying to sort out a mass of confused emotions.

Matt had proved to be a warm and generous lover—as well as firmly declaring his deep feelings for her. But she wasn’t a starry-eyed young girl any more. And she knew that, while it was easy enough to make promises, and whisper sweet nothings during the height of passion, that same passion had a way of cooling right down to vanishing point in the cold light of day.

More importantly, she wasn’t into one-night stands. There had been a time, in the immediate and unhappy aftermath of the breakdown of her marriage, when she’d been stupid enough to think that having sex would provide some sort of comfort. But it had only taken one unfortunate encounter for her to realise that was a total fallacy. So, it was no good getting too starry-eyed. She might regard last night as a totally magical experience. But, as far as Matt was concerned, it might well have proved to be nothing more than a very pleasant diversion.

‘Here, let me dry your fingers,’ he murmured, walking across the kitchen and firmly wiping her hands with a thick kitchen towel, before placing his arms about her nervous figure.

‘Now...I think it’s about time I had a good-morning kiss, don’t you?’ he continued, before pressing his lips to hers.

The sweetness and warmth of his mouth was wonderfully reassuring, and she savoured the strength of the arms clasping her to the dark hair of his bare chest; her nostrils filled with the cool, astringent scent of his aftershave.

‘Incidentally...’ he murmured, slowly raising his dark head and regarding her with a faintly quizzical gleam in his green eyes. ‘Just in case you have any doubts about my intentions... I meant everything I said last night.’

‘Really?’

‘Really and truly—cross my heart and hope to die!’ he murmured, both of them smiling at his use of the solemn childhood vow.

‘I’m not going to beat about the bush, Sam. We’re both sensible adults, and I’m sure you must recognise, as well as I do, that what we have going between us is something very special. And, yes, I know that I hurt you very badly in the past,’ he added as she stirred restlessly in his arms. ‘But I had no choice. Not with the university authorities breathing down my neck. Not to mention the obvious fact that you were so young—with the whole world in front of you. Believe me, there was no way we could continue our affair.’

‘Yes...I can see that now. Although, at the time...’

‘At the time, I behaved like a callous brute,’ he admitted sadly, his lips tightening in self-disgust as he glimpsed the brief flicker of recollection and pain in her blue eyes.

‘But it’s all quite different now. We have to let go of the past, because just about everything has changed,’ he continued. ‘Everything, that is, except our very strong attraction for one another. We’re both now fully grown up, and although we lead frantically busy lives—we can do it. We can make our affair work this time round. In fact, since it only takes four hours to cross the Atlantic by Concorde, I’m going to make damn certain that it does work!’

As she gazed up into the deeply hooded green eyes staring down at her so intently, Samantha realised that if she hadn’t yet quite managed to sort out all her emotional feelings for this man he was quite right about letting go of the past

After all, she was a lot older and wiser. There was no way he could ever hurt her again—or cause her to suffer those agonising pangs of first love. All that was water under the bridge. Besides, he’d made it crystal-clear that he was talking about an affair—which meant no total commitment on either side.

You can handle it, she told herself firmly. You’re a modern woman, and fully in charge of your emotions, nowadays. Besides, as he’d said, they both had very busy careers.

Making love with Matt was truly wonderful, stupendous—and just about any other glowing adjective she could think of—but it was only one part of her life. Her career was vitally important to her, and she wasn’t about to give it up for any man—even if he was the sexiest thing on two legs!

So, what was there to worry about? She certainly wasn’t going to make the mistake of once again falling deeply, irrevocably in love with this man. To be blunt, she’d been there, done that—and worn the T-shirt! Lust was one thing—love quite another. So, there was no reason why she shouldn’t have a super-charged, highly intense affair with Matt. Absolutely no reason at all.

‘Well...?’ Matt demanded tersely, his arms tightening involuntarily about her. ‘For heaven’s sake, darling—I’m not exactly talking about a fate worse than death! I merely want to make love to you, as often as possible. Surely you’re not going to turn me down?’

‘Well...I don’t seem to have any problem with your basic proposition,’ she teased, laughing as he gave a highly dramatic sigh of relief, before once more pressing his lips firmly to hers.

‘And now, having sorted out the small print in the contract, I’m going to jump into some casual clothes, and then make us a strong cup of coffee. OK?’

‘Ah—now you’re talking! That’s definitely one proposition I’d never turn down.’ She grinned, suddenly feeling incredibly cheerful and happy.

‘Mmm...that was great,’ she sighed some time later, having been served toast and marmalade as well as several steaming cups of coffee. ‘However, I really can’t stay here all day. So, I guess it’s time I went back to my hotel.’

‘Come along—there’s something I want to show you before you go,’ he said, rising from the kitchen table. And, although she was disappointed that he hadn’t suggested they spend the day together, Samantha had enough sense to realise that without prior knowledge of her visit he undoubtedly had other engagements booked for that day.

‘I want you to see why I originally decided to buy this apartment,’ he told her, taking her arm and leading her down the hall to the over-decorated sitting room. Operating the remote control to open the curtains, he beckoned her towards the tall, floor-to-ceiling arched windows, which opened on to a small, ornate iron balcony.

‘Oh, Matt—it’s great! What a wonderful view!’ she exclaimed, gazing down at the wide, shady street between his building and the green grass of a large park—which contained a rather grand-looking monument supported on marble columns—and beyond which lay the sparkling blue water of what, she quickly realised, must be the Hudson River. ‘Did you spend ages looking at various apartments before finding this one?’

‘Well, it did take a long time, and then...’

Whatever else Matt might have been going to say was lost as he was interrupted by the loud, strident tones of the front-door bell.

‘Back in a moment,’ he muttered, leaving her to admire the view as he walked quickly back across the room towards the hall.

Savouring the early sunshine and bright, fresh morning air, she was only dimly aware of a low buzz of conversation as Matt appeared to be talking to somebody, out in the hall. However, he was soon back by her side, and asking whether she felt like another cup of coffee.

‘That would be very nice. But I think I really ought to return to my hotel.’

‘Have you got anything in particular lined up for the rest of your stay?’

She shrugged. ‘Well, no, not really—but I’d like to see as much of the city as I can. Which is why I must get back, and...’

‘I was hoping that you hadn’t any firm commitments.’ Matt grinned down at her. ‘Which is why I’ve been putting together an itinerary, for the rest of the weekend. And, since you’ll be staying here, of course, I think we’d better get dressed and hit the town, as soon as possible.’

She frowned up at him. ‘What do you mean, I’m “staying here”? You can’t seriously imagine that I’d be prepared to go sightseeing in either this towelling robe or the dress I wore last night? If so, you must be off your trolley!’

‘Don’t be ridiculous, darling!’ he drawled coolly, his deeply hooded green eyes glinting with laughter. ‘I wouldn’t dream of asking you to do any such thing. Which is precisely why I telephoned your hotel, earlier this morning—while you were busy experimenting with the ice-making machine—and asked to have your bags delivered here, to the apartment’

‘What? I don’t believe it! Are you seriously trying to tell me that you had the nerve to ring my hotel, and...?’ She paused, the full enormity of what he’d done suddenly striking home. ‘Oh, Lord—you must have got them to pack my suitcases, as well!’

‘Certainly I did,’ he agreed, with another maddening, cool smile. ‘Why would you want to waste a precious hour or two of our valuable time together in such a mundane task?’

‘But...but you just can’t do that sort of thing!’ she retorted crossly, appalled to think that some chambermaid had been forced to collect up all her things, empty her drawers and pack her suitcase. Thank goodness she had at least left her bedroom looking reasonably tidy.

But the whole affair was still highly embarrassing. Goodness knows what the hotel must have thought! And what gave Matt the right to act in such a dictatorial, domineering and high-handed manner?

‘It’s no good telling me I can’t do something—especially when it’s clearly obvious that I’ve already done so,’ he drawled. The maddening truth of what he was saying only increased her annoyance.

‘But I haven’t settled the bill, or...’

He waved a dismissive hand. ‘That’s all been taken care of.’

‘Well, thanks a bunch, Matt!’ she snapped. ‘With my reputation now clearly in shreds, I don’t see myself being able to stay at the Mark again. Right?’

‘Absolutely right,’ he agreed smoothly, placing his arms firmly about her rigid, angry figure. ‘Why on earth would you want to stay in a hotel—however comfortable—when you could be curled up in bed with me, here in this apartment?’ he added softly, his arms tightening about her as he lowered his dark head.

The sweet seduction of his lips and tongue, together with the close intimate contact with the hard, male contours of his body, was, as usual, proving totally irresistible.

And, after all, Samantha told herself weakly, what was the point of quarrelling over something so unimportant as a suitcase? All that mattered was the fact that his deepening kiss was, as always, causing the blood to race in her veins, her body shivering with delight at the sensual, erotic touch of his fingers as he loosened her robe, slipping his hands inside to caress her warm, naked body.

Trapped in a dense mist of desire and pleasure, she could only give a slight moan as he slowly moved his lips from hers.

‘There’s no need to be cross with me, sweetheart,’ he murmured softly. ‘I’ve merely been putting into practice the agreement we came to, earlier in the kitchen. Which means when you’re in New York you stay here with me. Got it?’

She nodded. ‘I guess I’m just not used to someone telling me what I can and cannot do. But I’ll try to work on it.’

‘OK.’ Matt grinned. ‘Now, I’d like to point out that we have—thanks to my foresight in arranging for your suitcases to be delivered here—managed to save an hour or two of valuable time. Which means,’ he added with a low, sensual laugh, ‘we can now relax, and go back to bed.’

‘You’re kidding!’

‘Absolutely not,’ he drawled blandly, his lips twitching with laughter as he led her firmly back over the thick cream carpet towards the bedroom. ‘Surely you must have realised that New York can be a very exhausting city?’

‘And so we need a rest, right now, to conserve our energies for the day ahead?’ she queried ironically, struggling to keep her face straight.

‘Precisely!’ He paused, turning her around to face him. ‘You do, I hope, approve of my new schedule?’

Samantha gazed up at the man who’d so unexpectedly reappeared in her life.

‘Well, taking the rough with the smooth...’ she began, before giving a muffled laugh as she buried her face in his warm shoulder. ‘Yes, my darling Matt, I think I can just about handle it!’

CHAPTER THREE

SAMANTHA paused in the doorway, turning to give a fleeting glance around the huge main living area of her penthouse loft apartment in London.

Her two sisters thought that she was quite mad—particularly the eldest, Edwina, living in cheerful disorder in Gloucestershire with her doctor husband and two noisy, rumbustious young daughters.

However, Samantha had always had an absolute fetish about making sure that her apartment was in pristine, apple-pie order when she left for work in the mornings. Mainly because, when she returned home after a long and exhausting day at the office, she’d found that she needed to relax in a calm, tranquil space which was completely uncluttered.

Now, as always, she got a good deal of satisfaction and enormous pleasure from the sight of the pale oak floorboards and the simply draped, white muslin curtains over the large floor-to-ceiling windows. The current vogue for ‘minimalism’—which seemed to involve having as little furniture as possible, with everything tidied away in vast storage cupboards hidden from view—was her idea of absolute heaven.

‘But it’s so terribly bare!’ her older sister had shrieked in dismay on her first visit to Samantha’s new apartment two years ago.

Shuddering as she’d viewed what seemed blank, empty acres of floor space—broken only by two, huge modern sofas and a deep leather chair, surrounding a long glass and stainless-steel coffee table—Edwina had turned to gaze at her with a worried frown.

‘I simply can’t believe that you really want to live in this great barn of a place? Quite honestly, Sam, it would drive me absolutely up the wall!’

But when Samantha had pointed out to her older sister that this was really what she wanted, Edwina had merely responded with a bewildered shrug of her shoulders. In fact, she had firmly placed the blame for her younger sister’s strange taste in interior decoration on a legacy from their Swedish grandmother.

‘Well, it has to be the answer, Sam. After all, you’re the only one of us who inherited Granny’s dead straight, pale flaxen hair.

‘Yes, I know...’ she’d added impatiently as Samantha had rolled her eyes up at the ceiling. ‘I know you probably only remember Granny as a white-haired old lady. But I’ve seen a photograph of her as a young girl—and it could easily have been a picture of you!

‘And besides,’ Edwina had continued with a laugh, ‘I reckon this place would definitely go down a storm in Gothenburg! However, if it’s what you really want—then I hope you’ll be very happy living here.’

And, indeed, she had been extremely happy, Samantha thought, closing her front door and taking the lift down to the ground floor, where her early morning taxi was waiting to take her to the office.

Traffic congestion in the city of London was now so bad that, as Samantha frequently told her friends, anyone who tried to drive to work clearly needed their head examined. Her apartment was situated in the up-and-coming district of Clerkenwell—only a short distance away from her office near St Paul’s Cathedral. So, it obviously made sense to leave her car safely parked in the underground car park, beneath her apartment, and take taxis to and from the office.

‘G’morning, Miss Thomas,’ her regular taxi driver called out as she climbed into the back of the black cab. ‘I reckon it’s going to be a lovely hot day. In fact, my wife thinks that it’s going to be a real case of flaming June!’

‘You may be right, Joe,’ Samantha murmured, extracting a file from her briefcase.

She generally found that this journey to work was a perfect time to make notes, or jot down any memos concerning the day’s work which lay ahead. But this morning, for some unaccountable reason, she didn’t seem to be able to concentrate on business.

Leaning back on the leather seat, she closed her eyes, trying to ignore the strange nauseous feeling in her stomach.

It was all the fault of that heavy, indigestible meal which she’d had last night, Samantha told herself ruefully. It had proved to be virtually impossible to refuse to eat the dishes, proudly produced by a newly married friend—who obviously needed to take an urgent course in basic, everyday cooking!

All of which clearly explained why she was feeling a bit rough this morning. But goodness—what a contrast to the wonderful food she’d had at the Four Seasons in New York, just six weeks ago.

She could feel a hot, crimson flush sweeping up over her pale cheeks at the memory of that lost weekend. A weekend when, to her astonishment, she’d seemed to completely forget all about plain, ordinary everyday life, and had completely abandoned herself to... to... Samantha paused in her thoughts, hunting for the right word to describe accurately what had happened, before giving a helpless shrug.

Unfortunately, there simply was no word which embodied all the extraordinary feelings and sensations which had so quickly swamped both her mind and body. And, however shocking it might be to admit the fact, there was no doubt that she had totally abandoned herself to the overwhelming power...of lust!

In fact, swiftly losing all track of time and space, she couldn’t remember a time of such intense, magical joy and happiness—all crammed into two short days.

After spending that early Saturday morning making thrilling and exciting love to one other, Samantha would have been quite happy either to sit dozing and reading by the fire, or go for a slow, leisurely walk down Riverside Drive, the broad, shady street outside Matt’s apartment. However, he had planned quite a different, and far more exhausting, itinerary.

‘Come on, lazy bones! Hurry up and get dressed. We’ve got a lot to do—and very little time in which to do it,’ Matt had declared, practically booting her out of bed and into the shower, before transporting her off to Bloomingdale’s massive shoe department.

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