“Tell me one good reason. why you and I can’t continue to be lovers.” 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 CHAPTER ELEVEN CHAPTER TWELVE CHAPTER THIRTEEN CHAPTER FOURTEEN CHAPTER FIFTEEN CHAPTER SIXTEEN CHAPTER SEVENTEEN Copyright

“Tell me one good reason. why you and I can’t continue to be lovers.”

Fury ignited along her veins. Sex! Was that all he ever wanted from her? Was that all he ever wanted from any woman whom he didn’t rate as a perfect ten?

“Very well,” she bit out. “I’ll give you one very good reason. Soon, you won’t want me as your lover. Soon, that wonderful chemistry you spoke of will fail to spark, because I’ll be too big and fat to inspire much in you except revulsion. Yes, Lewis, I see the penny’s beginning to drop. Yes, that’s right. I’m going to have a baby!”

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

Relax and enjoy our fabulous series 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 our final arrival—

a Christmas baby—in

The Yuletide Child (#2070)

by Charlotte Lamb

The Boss’s Baby

Miranda Lee

www.millsandboon.co.uk

CHAPTER ONE

‘IS THERE anything wrong, Olivia?’

Olivia glanced up to find her boss frowning down at her from his considerable height. With great difficulty, she pushed aside her whirling thoughts and smiled one of those small plastic smiles she used round the office.

‘Not at all,’ she said, but the smile felt like cement. ‘Everything’s fine. I’m fine.’ Dropping her eyes from his probing gaze, Olivia busied herself, mindlessly tidying her desk top. She wasn’t about to confide her personal problems to her boss. They didn’t have that kind of relationship.

When she’d been hired eighteen months before, Lewis had warned her that his wife had not been happy with his previous secretary’s far too familiar manner, and far too glamorous mode of dressing.

Olivia had been only too happy to present the reserved and conservative image which found favour with the boss’s wife. She was a reserved type of girl anyway, and had always been a conservative dresser. Years before she’d settled on always wearing basic black to work, with the odd white or cream blouse thrown in. That way, the only accessories she needed were black.

Her wardrobe was very economical, as was the simple hairstyle which saw her long straight dark auburn hair swept back from her face and secured in a big loop at the nape of her neck, the anchoring band always covered by a plain black clip or bow. Economical too was the minimal amount of make-up and jewellery which adorned the rest of her.

On her rare visits to the office, the boss’s wife had never had any reason to be suspicious or jealous of her husband’s new private secretary. Olivia made sure she never crossed the line where Lewis was concerned. She had no reason to. Tall, dark and handsome her boss might be, but she was very much in love with the man she was going to marry.

Ironically, Lewis and his wife had still broken up six months back, an event which had propelled the boss into a permanently morose and introverted mood. His noticing Olivia’s own wretched and distracted state of mind was unusual to say the least, and quite irritating. Why couldn’t he have stayed buried in his laboratory all morning, as had become his habit lately? Why did he have to come out and pry into her own private misery?

‘You don’t look fine,’ he persisted.

‘Oh?’ Her hands automatically lifted to check her hair.

‘I’m not talking about how you look,’ Lewis snapped, ‘but how you’re acting. Ever since you got in this morning you’ve been just sitting there, staring into space.’

Space. Now that was a word Olivia wasn’t too thrilled with this morning. Space! Nicholas, her fiancé, had told her last night that he needed more space. It was one of his excuses for opting out of their relationship. That and about a million others!

‘You haven’t even turned on your computer,’ Lewis added, as though that were the crime of the century.

A glance up at the wall clock showed Olivia it was almost nine-thirty. She’d been sitting at her desk doing nothing for over an hour. Wearily, she reached forward to snap on the screen, muttering, ‘Sorry,’ as she did so.

Lewis’s sigh was full of male frustration. ‘For pity’s sake, Olivia, you don’t have to apologise! I don’t give a damn whether you work or not. I’m concerned about you; can’t you see that?’

‘Concerned?’ she repeated disbelievingly as her eyes lifted back to his.

It had been a long time since anyone had expressed concern about her, possibly because she always portrayed such a coolly efficient image. Her parents always thought she had it all together, as did her two younger sisters. It was she who usually handed out the advice, happily lecturing her family on matters of budgeting and goal-setting.

She’d had her life totally mapped out ... till last night, when Nicholas had packed his bags and stormed out of their flat, leaving her alone with the person he’d nastily described at length during the previous sixty minutes, that controlling, stingy, boring bitch who’d been ruining his life for the past two years, ruling his every waking moment, smothering his personality and turning him into a spineless, mindless wimp.

He was tired of saving money, tired of eating in and very tired of only having sex in a bed!

He was younger than she was, he’d reminded her scathingly. He wanted some fun before he settled down. Some fun and some space. He didn’t want to get married just yet. He didn’t want the responsibility of a mortgage and kids. He certainly didn’t want to buy a family car. He wanted to drive a Porsche. He wanted to travel. He wanted other women, women who knew that oral was not just a brand of toothbrush!

His dumping on their sex life really stung, because she’d never imagined their love life had been inadequate, or that Nicholas was so discontent in that area. For one thing, he’d always told her he fully understood her distaste for certain forms of foreplay. In fact, he’d claimed to share her feelings on the matter.

‘There’s not a spontaneous sexual bone in your body, Olivia,’ he’d flung at her in parting. ‘You have no idea how to make a man happy. No bloody idea!’

At the time she’d thought he was mad. Now, suddenly, crushingly, she believed him.

‘Olivia? What is it?’ her boss demanded to know.

Valiantly, she fought back the tears.

‘Is it Nicholas?’

All she could do was nod, her eyes dropping lest she lose the battle.

‘Is he ill?’

She shook her head from side to side.

‘Don’t tell me you two have split up!’

Olivia winced at the note of disbelief in his voice. ‘Twenty-four hours ago she would have been just as sceptical over such a thing happening. She’d been so sure they were right for each other; that they’d wanted the same things. Marriage next year. A house the year after that, then their first baby before she turned thirty.

Now, the only thing Olivia could see for herself by thirty was loneliness. It had taken her years of looking to find Nicholas. She was already twenty-seven...

‘Please, Lewis,’ she said, stiffening her shoulders and her quavering bottom lip while she brought up the correspondence file on the computer. ‘I don’t want to talk about it.’

She felt his eyes hard upon her, but simply refused to meet them. She stared straight ahead at the screen and began tapping on the keyboard.

‘Don’t worry too much, Olivia,’ Lewis said. ‘Give him a day or two and he’ll come to his senses. I’ll bet he comes crawling back before the week is out.’

Olivia’s head jerked up, hope flooding her heart.

‘Do you think so?’

‘No sane man would leave a girl like you, Olivia,’ her boss pronounced firmly. ‘Trust me.’

Nicholas did come back the following weekend, but he wasn’t crawling, and he didn’t stay. He merely collected a few personal things he’d left behind—some toiletries and his CD collection. As he strode out the door with hurtful nonchalance, he sarcastically told Olivia she could keep the wonderful furniture they’d been sharing.

From her front window, she watched him drive off in a brand-new black Porsche on which he must have wasted his entire savings, money which was to have been half of the deposit on the perfectly planned home they’d been going to build together, and in which they’d been going to rear their two perfectly planned children.

Olivia was left to weep over the thrift-shop bargains which she’d bought for a song then painstakingly stripped back and painted, thinking she was saving money for their future together. She wept on and off for another week, her depression increased by the closeness of Christmas. People were supposed to be happy at Christmas!

Olivia functioned at work on automatic pilot but wasn’t able to force herself to do much at home, even eat. Lunchtimes were spent wandering aimlessly through Parramatta Mall. She told Lewis she had Christmas shopping to do, but in fact just wanted to get away from his gently probing eyes. Her boss in sympathetic mode was not one she was used to, or comfortable with.

It was testimony to Olivia’s distracted state that her last day at work for the year was suddenly upon her and she hadn’t even bought Lewis a Christmas card, let alone a gift. Guilt consumed her as she picked up the lovely gold-embossed card Lewis had given her, not to mention the huge box of chocolates, which she’d slipped into her bottom drawer for low blood sugar emergencies.

She would have to slip out later and buy him something. She doubted she’d be missed. The entire staff of Altman Industries would be busy celebrating the annual five-week shutdown with a Christmas party to end all company Christmas parties. There would be a marquee set up on the lawn, dancing on the factory floor, food to tempt even the most stringent dieter, beer by the keg and cases of first-class champagne.

It would cost Lewis a fortune, Olivia knew.

But it was a tradition, and he could afford it. Altman Industries might be a relatively small company, but its profits rose every year, even more so after they’d gone international three years ago.

Lewis had started the company in a backyard garage over a decade back. An industrial chemist by training but a naturalist by inclination, he’d combined science and nature to produce a simple range of skin care products for men, starting with a shaving cream and a combination aftershave-lotion-cum moisturiser. A soap swiftly followed, then a shower gel, shampoo and conditioner. Three years back, a hugely successful cologne had been added to the range.

Lewis had been smart enough to employ a good advertising agency from the beginning and they’d come up with the catchy brand name of All Man, a derivation of Lewis’s surname of Altman. Using famous Australian sportsmen to endorse the products had brought instant success.

Lewis had swiftly moved from the limiting garage into a modern factory and office complex site in the centrally located industrial park at Ermington. Expansion had initially meant a huge overdraft at the bank, but it wasn’t long before Altman Industries were back in the black and posting profits that were the envy of its larger competitors.

Next year, Lewis planned to expand production to include an All Woman line. He’d already created the basic skin and hair care range and was now working on the perfume.

Olivia didn’t know all these facts from private conversations with Lewis, although she naturally gleaned some of the information in her position as private secretary to the owner of the company. She’d read a recent article written about him in Good Business magazine which had done a series on successful Sydney companies, and their owners.

She’d also learned that Lewis was thirty-four years old, an only child whose father had died when he was five. He’d been well educated due to his mother’s working up to three jobs, for which he was eternally grateful. There’d been an accompanying photograph of an elegant grey-haired lady who looked around sixty. One of the reasons for his focused ambition had been a desire to repay his mother for all the sacrifices she’d made for him. He wanted to give her everything she’d never had.

Olivia had never actually met Lewis’s mother, but had spoken to her often on the phone. Mrs Altman senior didn’t live with her son, even now that he’d separated from his wife. She had her own address in Drummoyne, an inner-city suburb which hugged the harbour.

Olivia had always sensed that Mrs Altman hadn’t liked her son’s choice of wife. Given the closeness of their relationship, maybe Lewis’s mother would not have liked any woman Lewis married. The article had only briefly mentioned Lewis’s marriage of two years, saying his estranged wife was ‘in fashion’ and their separation was amicable.

Olivia had laughed over that at the time. Amicable, my foot!

She didn’t feel like laughing this Friday morning. Only now could she fully understand Lewis’s devastation when Dinah left him. Olivia had never felt so low in her whole life. The thought of attending the Christmas party was unpalatable. How could she possibly enjoy herself? All that eating and drinking, not to mention dancing. The only dancing Olivia cared for was the old-fashioned kind.

If last year’s Christmas party was anything to go by, that was not the kind of dancing with which the factory floor would resonate. Discoing would be the order of the day. Olivia didn’t like gyrating around virtually on her own. She wasn’t uninhibited enough to enjoy making a public exhibition of herself.

She wasn’t uninhibited enough to make a private exhibition of herself, either. Nicholas’s parting barb about being bored with always having sex in a bed had been haunting her. Because he was so right. She’d never made love with him anywhere else but in bed. She’d never even made love on top of the bed!

Being on top in any shape or form was not in her limited résumé of sexual experiences. Neither were any of the other more exotic foreplays and positions. When she’d met Nicholas at twenty-five, she’d still been a virgin. Nicholas was too, surprisingly, although he had only been twenty-two at the time. They’d muddled along together and sex hadn’t been a great success for a while. But they’d finally mastered the basics, and she’d honestly thought Nicholas was happy in bed. She’d never refused him and he’d always come, even when she hadn’t. It seemed now she’d overestimated his pleasure and satisfaction in her body, not to mention her less than adventurous technique.

The telephone ringing snapped her out of her broodingly introspective mood for a moment.

‘Mr Altman’s office,’ came her automatic response. ‘Olivia Johnson speaking. May I help you?’

‘You certainly may, my dear. I’d like to speak to that son of mine, if he’s not too busy. I realise it’s party day.’

‘He’s still in his laboratory, Mrs Altman. I’ll put you through.’

‘Before you do, my dear, I just wanted to wish you a happy Christmas and to thank you for always being so nice to me on the phone.’

‘Why, thank you, Mrs Altman. And a happy Christmas to you too.’

‘What are you doing for Christmas?’

‘I’m going home to my parents’ place.’

‘And where’s that?’

‘They live near Morisset.’

‘Morisset? That’s up on the central coast, isn’t it?’

‘Yes, between Gosford and Newcastle. It’s about a two-hour train trip from Sydney. Less from Hornsby where I catch it.’

‘I see. Well, we’ll have to go to lunch together one day next year, dear. I’d love to put a face and figure to the voice. I asked Lewis once what you looked like and all he said was you were a brunette with intelligent brown eyes. When I asked what kind of figure you had, he looked perplexed for a moment, and then said, “short of medium.”’

Although piqued, Olivia couldn’t really blame Lewis. The tailored black suits she favoured in the office were not designed to stand out, or display her body. Her skirts were never too short or too tight. Any deep Vs in her jackets were always filled in with a simple top or shirt-style blouse. Today’s outfit was no exception. If she’d remembered the Christmas party Olivia might have worn something a little brighter. But she hadn’t and that was that!

‘You know, I haven’t been into the office since that other awful girl was ensconced behind your desk,’ Mrs Altman senior was saying. ‘The last time I visited, she was wearing a dress cut down to her navel. Not to mention very little underwear. As for perfume... I think she must have bathed in it. Poor Lewis. I finally understood why his ex-wife used to complain he smelt like the cosmetics counter in David Jones every time he came home at night.’

Olivia didn’t go perfumeless. But the small spray of Eternity she allowed herself every morning was very discreet.

‘Unfortunately, it’s very difficult to get rid of employees these days,’ the boss’s mother rattled on. ‘If Lewis had sacked the infernal girl, he’d have found himself in court before he knew it, trying to explain to a judge why he’d fired this suddenly prim and proper creature dressed in pin-tucks and a Peter Pan collar.’

Olivia felt the corners of her mouth crinkling with amusement. ‘I gathered Lewis was very relieved when she left to go overseas.’

‘More than relieved, I can tell you. But he’s been very happy with you, dear. You haven’t given him a moment’s worry or trouble!’

Olivia wasn’t sure if she liked the sound of that, or not.

‘Although he did express some concern the other night about your having had a lovers’ tiff with your boyfriend. He said you were very down in the mouth about it.’

‘Yes, well...’ Her voice trailed off. She really didn’t want to discuss Nicholas with Mrs Altman any more than Lewis.

‘Don’t let pride get in your way, dear,’ came the unwanted advice. ‘Call him. Say you’re sorry, even if it was his fault. After all, what’s a bit of grovelling when all’s said and done?’

Olivia’s eyebrows shot up. She’d never grovelled to anyone in her life and she wasn’t about to start now. Still... Mrs Altman did have a point. Pride did sometimes get in the way of reconciliations. She reasoned there was a huge difference between grovelling and giving Nicholas a call. She could use the excuse of wishing him a happy Christmas. He would be in his office right now. She could be talking to him in seconds. Her heart raced as hope reformed.

As soon as Olivia put Mrs Altman through to Lewis she dialled before she could think better of it. Nicholas’s telephone rang several times before being picked up.

‘Nickie’s desk,’ breathed a female voice.

Olivia was taken aback. ‘Renee?’ she asked hesitantly. ‘Is that you?’ Renee was a colleague of Nicholas who sometimes answered his phone when he was away from his desk.

‘Renee resigned some time back,’ came the husky reply. ‘I’m Yvette. Her replacement.’

Renee’s replacement. Named Yvette. And she called Nicholas Nickie.

Olivia began to feel sick. ‘Could I speak to Nicholas, please?’

There was a small silence on the other end of the phone, then a melodramatic sigh. ‘Is that Olivia, by any chance?’

‘Put Nicholas on, please.’

‘I can’t. He’s not here. He’s gone to the little men’s room. You’re wasting your time, anyway. He doesn’t want to see or talk to you ever again. He has me now and I’m all he wants.’

Olivia sucked in a shaky breath. With a great effort of will, she kept her voice quite calm. ‘And just how long have you been everything Nicholas wants?’

‘Longer than you think. Face it, honey,’ Yvette purred down the line. ‘You haven’t got what it takes to keep a man. It’s not a female’s organisational and management abilities which win the day. Nickie could get that from a computer. Or a cleaner. What he wants is passion. And spontaneity. And fun.’

‘Sex, you mean,’ Olivia shot back, knowing now where Nicholas had got most of his verbal armoury during their final argument.

‘Same thing.’

‘You think he didn’t get sex from me?’ she threw at this heartless creature who thought nothing of taking someone else’s man.

‘Not the kind he wanted, honey. Gotta go. We’re all off down the pub for Chrissie drinks. Bye bye. Oh, and happy Christmas!’

Olivia was left listening to a dead line.

Suddenly, a rage began to simmer deep within her, a dark rebellious rage. Slamming the phone down, she jumped up from behind her desk, hot blood racing through her veins.

Going for Chrissie drinks, were they? Well, good for them. But she was going one better. She was going to a Chrissie party and by God she was going to party. She was going to party all day and she was going to forget. Forget Nicholas and Yvette. Forget that her future had been cruelly smashed. Forget everything but having fun!

Olivia stripped off her jacket and dropped it over the back of her chair. Having fun shouldn’t be too hard. Not once she got a few glasses of champagne into her.

She was a happy drunk. Or she thought she would be. She’d never actually been drunk before. But a couple of glasses of wine always made her feel good.

And, dear God, she needed to feel good. She needed to feel good very, very badly!

Tugging the anchoring bow from the nape of her neck, she shook her head till her hair spilled halfway down her back. Flicking open the top two buttons of her blouse, she gave another defiant toss of her head, then marched determinedly in the direction of the music.

CHAPTER TWO

BY TWO that afternoon, Olivia felt more than good. She felt fantastic. If she’d known champagne was such a great antidepressant she’d have tried it earlier. From her third glass, everything had begun to improve. Her mood. The music. The men.

By the time she’d consumed her first bottle of bubbly, one of the sales reps, a thirtyish womaniser named Phil, whom she wouldn’t normally have given the time of day, started to seem genuinely charming. He’d been chatting away to her for over half an hour when Olivia first became aware of Lewis frowning at her. He was standing with a group from marketing near one of the trestles laden with food, a glass of beer in one hand and a slice of Christmas cake in the other.

Her boss’s near scowl evoked a dark defiance in Olivia. Lewis wasn’t her keeper. She had every right to have some harmless fun if she wanted to. Anyone would think she was doing something wrong instead of what every other single, unattached female here was doing: flirting and having a generally good time!

When Phil asked her to dance, Olivia didn’t hesitate. Putting down her near empty glass and placing her hand in his outstretched fingers, she allowed him to draw her into the centre of the factory floor. The music switched from a softer number to a heady, throbbing beat which stirred her blood, and her general feeling of rebellion, ensuring that she smiled at Phil a little more widely, and danced a lot more provocatively.

Olivia discovered a primitive sense of rhythm she hadn’t known she had, her body taking on a life of its own, undulating with all the grace and sensuality of a belly dancer, her arms reaching up above her head like two cobras under the hypnotic influence of a snake charmer’s music.

The realisation that Lewis’s narrowed blue gaze was riveted to her suddenly sinuous body did not go unnoticed by Olivia. Instantly, she became very conscious of her femininity: the way her full breasts were swaying beneath her blouse; the sensual swing of her womanly hips; the heat being generated in her secret places. It was a most exhilarating and arousing experience.

Olivia felt so sexy, it was sinful! She could have danced for ever, displaying herself shamelessly in front of the men’s gawking eyes.

But especially one man’s.

Shocking her boss out of his complacent attitude towards her was giving her a real buzz. It felt good to have him look at her for once as a woman capable of attracting men, maybe even capable of attracting him.

Actually, it felt more than good. It felt ... thrilling.

The music, however, came to an end, and the disc jockey announced he was having a break.

‘I had no idea,’ Phil murmured as he guided her from the factory floor, ‘that you could be like this.’ Picking up a frosted glass of champagne from a nearby table, he pressed it into her hot little hands.

‘Like what?’ she asked in a breathy voice to rival Yvette’s.

Phil’s leering smile sent warning bells ringing faintly in her fuzzy brain. The realisation of where Phil thought their flirtation was heading brought a momentary jab of conscience, but she easily brushed it aside. That was another thing about being deliciously drunk, she realised. You didn’t fret over things. So Phil was going to be disappointed at the end of the day. So what? No real harm done.

Sipping her drink, she glanced idly around to see if Lewis was still watching her.

He wasn’t. In fact, he was nowhere in sight.

Perversely, Olivia felt quite put out.

‘Another dance?’ Phil suggested.

Olivia was startled to find that the prospect of dancing without Lewis watching her held no appeal at all. In fact, all of a sudden, she’d lost interest in staying where she was.

‘Sorry,’ she said abruptly, ‘but there’s something else I have to do right now.’

Leaving Phil gaping after her, she strode across the factory floor to where the champagne was chilling in a huge vat. Extracting an opened bottle from its bed of ice, Olivia collected two clean glasses and set off in the direction of the main office block.

She found Lewis not in his laboratory, but in his office. He was standing at the window which had a view of the rolling front lawns, but not much else. His grey suit jacket had been discarded along with his tie, both thrown carelessly across the black leather chesterfield standing between them. Staring through the window, he absently undid his cuffs and began rolling up the sleeves of his crisp white shirt.

Without making her presence known, Olivia stood in the open doorway and just stared at him.

He was an exceptionally good-looking man, she finally conceded. A fact she’d always known but which she hadn’t faced before with such honesty. That was another fringe benefit of being tipsy. Smiling ruefully to herself, Olivia decided to call it alcoholic enlightenment.

‘So there you are!’ she exclaimed gaily, and launched herself towards his desk, kicking the door shut behind her.

He whirled, then frowned at her. ‘What in hell do you think you’re doing?’ he said when she set the glasses up on his desk and slopped in some champagne, spilling a little on the black lacquered top.

‘Bringing the party to you, boss.’ She threw him a saucy smile as she weaved her way over to him, thankful that the glasses were only half full. ‘This is the one day in the year when we don’t work around here. And that includes you. If you think you’re going to hide yourself away in that infernal laboratory today, then you can think again. Here. Take this!’ Having deposited one glass into his reluctant grip, she clinked her glass to his then lifted it to her lips, her eyes dancing at him over the rim. ‘Merry Christmas, Lewis.’

‘Olivia,’ he said drily, making no attempt to drink. ‘You’re not just merry, you’re sozzled.’

She laughed. ‘I am, aren’t I?’

‘You’re going to have one hell of a hangover in the morning,’ he warned.

‘I’ll worry about that in the morning. Meanwhile, I’m having fun.’

One of his dark eyebrows lifted in a sardonic arch. ‘So I noticed. You haven’t forgotten Phil Baldwin’s reputation with women, have you?’

‘No.’

‘For pity’s sake, Olivia, if you must have revenge on Nicholas then pick yourself someone with a little more discretion. I really don’t want the likes of Phil going round boasting that he had sex with my secretary at the Christmas party, all right?’

‘You think I’d let him do that?’

‘I don’t know what to think.’ His eyes carried a strange confusion as they roved over her, taking in her wild tumble of hair before dropping down to the shadowed cleavage between her breasts. ‘When you let your hair down, Olivia,’ he muttered tautly, ‘you really let your hair down.’

The air was suddenly thick between them. Thick and hot and electric. The storm which had been brewing in Olivia all day gathered intensity. Lightning licked along her veins. Thunder roared in her temples. Her heart began to pound. Her eyes flashed and glittered.

‘At least you noticed I was a woman,’ she said huskily.

‘Hard not to.’

‘Would you like to have sex with me, Lewis?’

He was shocked, she could see. Yet along with the shock lay a decided fascination. He couldn’t take his eyes off her. She took advantage of his momentary stillness to close the distance between them and press herself against him, oh, so lightly. His nostrils flared with more shock.

Olivia was beyond shock; beyond everything but having Lewis look at her as he had out on the factory floor. A blistering desire was inflaming her senses while obliterating her conscience. All she could think of was having her boss admit he wanted her, having him powerless to resist her incredible expertise.

Boring, Nicholas had called her. If only he could see her now. Lewis wasn’t looking at her as though she were boring.

Reaching up on tiptoe, Olivia brushed her lips tantalisingly against his.

He froze. But only for a second or two. When she kissed him a second time, more firmly this time, his lips softened against hers, parting as hers parted. When her tongue-tip darted forward to flick over his, he gave a low moan of sexual surrender.

A dark triumph filled her soul. Smiling, she drew back to survey his flushed face and startled mouth with a wicked satisfaction. ‘I’ll just be a moment,’ she murmured.

She sipped her drink all the way to the door, finishing it by the time she reached to snap on the deadlock. Turning, she arched a naughty eyebrow at him. ‘We don’t want to be disturbed, do we?’

Somewhere, in the furthest reaches of her mind, she knew she was being outrageous. But nothing was going to stop her. Any qualms were ruthlessly buried underneath the roller-coaster excitement of the moment.

His eyes never left hers during her slow return across the room. They glittered and flashed, telling her of his own excitement.

She deposited her glass on the desk on the way, but made no attempt to relieve him of his, taking his free hand in hers and drawing him round to the roomy leather chesterfield.

He sat down in the middle where she directed, hot blue eyes burning into her while she kicked off her shoes and curled herself up next to him.

‘Now,’ she breathed, and took the untouched drink from his hand, ‘we’ll finish this up together, shall we?’

When she pressed the glass to his lips, he drank obediently, saying nothing when it was her turn. Determined not to be unnerved by his silence, she drained the glass, then dropped it over the back of the chesterfield onto the plush carpet Cupping his face, she kissed him, at first lightly, then more deeply, making him moan.

With surprisingly nimble fingers, she managed to undo his shirt as she kissed him, pushing back the sides and smoothing her hands seductively over his bared chest.

He felt marvellous. Firm and muscular, with just enough body hair to exude a masculinity which was decidedly arousing. Lewis had a great body, she decided, probably because he balanced his sometimes sedentary lifestyle with rigorous workouts in the gym.

Olivia’s primary goal of seducing him began to blur as her own desires kicked in. Her head spun and she dragged her mouth from his to lick and kiss where her hands had been. When she grazed over a nipple, he sucked in sharply, tellingly. With a teasing wickedness she hadn’t known she possessed, she deliberately avoided his nipples after that till they grew erect on their own, only then doing what he obviously craved.

‘Oh, God,’ he groaned aloud when she tugged on one of the tight little buds with her teeth.

The naked passion of his outburst thrilled her, making her torment him further till his chest was rising and falling with a raw ragged panting. When her kisses travelled down towards his navel and her hands found the zip on his trousers, his hands clamped down shakily over hers.

‘No,’ he protested. But unconvincingly, she thought.

Smiling seductively, she took his hands and stretched them up and out, spreading them wide on the back of the chesterfield. Her own body had to practically lie on top of his to do so, her breasts squashing against the hard expanse of his chest. The feel of his impressive erection pressing into the softness of her stomach was both reassuring and arousing. Somehow, she didn’t think Lewis would object for long to what she had in mind.

And she had a lot of things in mind. All those things Nicholas thought her incapable of. All those things darling little Yvette had been giving her boyfriend in his office.

The need for revenge blended with her own need, bringing a reckless mix which sent fire licking along her veins and a ruthless determination into her heart.

‘Shh,’ she murmured as she licked Lewis’s parched lips. ‘You want me to. You know you do.’

His strangled swear word only made her smile. ‘Yes. Soon,’ she promised. ‘But first just lie back and enjoy. We don’t want to rush things now, do we?’

Olivia smiled again. There was something so dizzyingly delicious about feeling in control.

Of course, in reality, she was far from that. She was decidedly out of control. But liberatingly so. She needed to do this more than anything she’d done in her life before. Lewis was going to give her back her self-esteem, her confidence, her very soul. He was going to revitalise her spirits and recharge her batteries. He was going to make her feel like a real woman again.

She found it surprisingly easy to free him from his clothes, marvelling at the way her non-fumbling fingers handled him so naturally, and so expertly. Not a hint of revulsion rose to spoil her skilful stroking. It was as if another person were inhabiting her body, a wildly uninhibited, chillingly expert woman of the world.

‘Olivia,’ Lewis choked out when her head began to descend.

She stopped and looked straight at him.

‘It’s all right,’ she said, and smiled. ‘Stop worrying. I won’t let you come.’

Lewis was deathly silent after that, except for the small scratching noises his nails made on the leather as his fingers curled over and over.

‘Now stay right where you are,’ she murmured at last, pushing her hair back from her face and sitting upright. ‘Promise me you won’t move, now.’

His expression was disbelieving when she abandoned him, his eyes widening when she hitched up her skirt and peeled off her stockings and panties. Olivia wallowed in the way he ogled her legs. She didn’t take off her skirt, finding a decidedly erotic charge in being nude underneath it. She didn’t take off her blouse, either. That could wait.

Turning away from Lewis’s galvanised gaze, she refilled her glass with champagne and took a deep swallow, just in case the wonderful effect of the alcohol began to wear off.

Bringing the glass with her, she returned to straddle Lewis’s lap with her knees, glad now that her conservative skirt was not too tight. Even so, it rode up her thighs quite a way to accommodate her position. Staying kneeling upwards so that their bodies weren’t actually contacting, she tilted the champagne to her lips once more.

‘I think I might need some of that,’ Lewis muttered hoarsely.

‘Be my guest,’ she said, and handed him the glass. He drained it, then dropped it over the back of the sofa to clatter against the other discarded glass.

‘I have to warn you,’ he said thickly, ‘that I don’t have any protection on me.’

‘I noticed that,’ she said with a dry little smile, and started undoing the buttons on her blouse.

‘This is crazy, Olivia.’

‘Calm down, boss. This is good old Olivia here. Do you think I’d ever be a health hazard?’

‘Not usually...’

‘Nicholas always used condoms,’ she elaborated ruefully. ‘I also started on the pill last month. I was just about to trust Nicholas, you see. Silly me! But not to worry. I trust you, Lewis. You have honour.’

‘Honour! My God, do you think this is having honour—letting you do this when I know you’re drunk, not to mention on some crazy rebound trip?’

‘Don’t underestimate your attractiveness, Lewis,’ she purred. ‘How do you know I’m not doing this because I’ve always fancied you like mad, but controlled myself because you seemed happily married? How do you know I haven’t fantasised about you every day these past six months, that I haven’t thought about you making love to me in your laboratory, or on your desk, or right here like this, with you buried deep inside me and my breast on your mouth?’ She watched him lose it then, the wildest, most primitive expression filling his face.

Knocking her hands aside, he ripped open her blouse and pushed up her bra to reveal her full, hard-tipped breasts. His hands were rough on her, his mouth hungry as he laved the nearest nipple with his tongue. Olivia tipped her head back with a low, sensual moan, her hair falling away from the arched curved of her spine. Sucking the whole aureole solidly in his mouth, Lewis pushed her skirt up to her waist, positioned himself at the entrance to her body then pulled her sharply downwards.

Olivia gasped. She wasn’t sure why men liked this position so much but she finally saw its attractions for the woman. Never had she felt so filled, her flesh totally impaled on his. Instinctively and voluptuously, she began to move, rising and falling upon him in the most incredibly pleasurable fashion.

All thought of Nicholas and revenge disappeared in the face of what was the most mind-blowing sexual experience of her life. Lewis was gripping her buttocks, squeezing them hard, urging her to a more vigorous rhythm. She obliged, her movements gradually growing more frantic.

Her head was spinning, her body burning. She could not find enough air for her pounding heart. Her mouth fell open and her cries overrode Lewis’s ragged breathing, a high keening sound which ended when the first spasm struck. Olivia sucked in sharply, her head snapping forward. Immediately, Lewis groaned and arched upwards, his flesh pulsating and pumping deep within her.

Olivia could actually feel her own flesh contracting around him, squeezing him, milking him. The sensations nearly took her head off. Eventually, he sagged beneath her and slumped back against the chesterfield.

Olivia stared at his still gasping mouth and tightly shut eyes, then down at her own semi-naked self. Gradually, her nerve-endings stopped screaming and a wave of satiation flooded her body, bringing her down from her sexual high with the suddenness of a wet sponge thrown in her face. A sickening reality replaced the wild exhilaration she’d been feeling a minute before and a cold clammy sweat broke out all over her body.

Dear God, what had she done?

Her stomach started churning over and over. Battling hysteria, she yanked her bra down over her breasts then struggled to do up her blouse. Bile rose into her throat and she knew she was going to be sick.

She barely made it to Lewis’s private washroom, just managing to lock the door behind her before she was violently ill into the toilet bowl. Even after Olivia was sure everything she’d eaten and drunk that day had left her body, more spasms struck. Beads of perspiration dotted her forehead as she hunched over in agony.

For several pain-racked minutes Olivia thought she might die. She wished she would die. Then she would never have to go out of this room and face Lewis again.

Her hand shook when she finally reached to flush the toilet. Moaning, she staggered over to the washbasin where she rinsed her mouth out with water, before sinking down into a heap on the cold tiled floor. She was huddled there, her head leaning against the vanity, when there was a thumping on the door.

‘Are you all right, Olivia?’

All right! How could she possibly be all right after what she’d just done? The shame of it all brought tears to her eyes and the most awful tightness to her chest.

‘Olivia?’

‘Go away,’ she choked out. ‘Just go away.’

‘Don’t be silly. You’re ill. I’m staying.’

‘If you don’t go right now,’ she screamed at him, ‘I...I don’t know what I’ll do!’

He sighed. ‘I see. I had a feeling you’d regret things afterwards. Hell, I regret them myself. But damn it all, Olivia, you made it impossible for me to stop you.’

‘Please,’ she begged, squeezing her eyes shut. ‘I... I don’t want to talk about it.’

‘You want to forget it ever happened; is that it?’

‘Yes.’

‘I’m not sure I can do that.’

‘You have to. Or I...I’ll resign.’

‘Resign!’

‘Yes.’

‘I don’t want you to resign,’ he muttered. ‘All right, I’ll go, if that will make you feel better. Promise me you’ll call yourself a taxi. Pay for it out of the petty cash tin.’

Olivia grimaced. ‘I’ll pay for it myself, thank you very much. I don’t need to be rewarded for what happened just now. I’ve never been so disgusted with myself in my life.’

‘It takes two to tango, Olivia,’ he said. ‘I’m as guilty as you are, if guilt is the word.’

‘What other word is there?’

‘Need, perhaps.’

‘Need?’

‘Yes. But we can talk about that another day. You’re not in a fit state to discuss the complexities of life at this moment.’

‘Just go, for pity’s sake!’

‘All right,’ he said. ‘I can see you’re too upset to think straight just now. But I’ll call you at home in the morning. Then we can talk about what just happened without the heat and emotion of the moment, okay?’

‘Okay,’ she mumbled.

‘Good girl.’

Good girl? He had to be joking. Her behaviour just now had been appalling. Lewis had nothing to feel guilty about. It hadn’t been him taking advantage of her drunkenness. It had been her, taking advantage of his no doubt frustrated state. Olivia was well aware Lewis hadn’t even looked at another woman since his marriage broke up. If he had, there would have been phone calls toing and froing, not to mention other evidence. He certainly wouldn’t have been working back late every night, and sometimes all night.

No, he’d been living a celibate life since Dinah left him, yet he was a normal red-blooded man in the prime of his life. His inability to resist his sozzled secretary’s provocative and quite aggressive sexual attentions had been perfectly understandable. No, the shame and the guilt was all hers, right down the line. It was generous of the man to find excuses for her. She didn’t deserve such consideration.

‘Tell me again you’ll be all right,’ he persisted unhappily at the door.

‘I’ll be all right,’ she said weakly, then sniffled, tears now running down her cheeks and dripping off her nose.

‘I’m sorry, Olivia. You don’t sound all right. I couldn’t live with myself if I left you like this. Let me in.’

‘No,’ she sobbed. ‘I can’t.’

‘So be it’

Olivia gaped as, with an almighty cracking noise, Lewis broke down the door.

CHAPTER THREE

‘DAMN and blast!’ Lewis groaned, rubbing his shoulder. ‘That always seems so easy in the movies.’

Despite grimacing with pain, he still bent and scooped up a speechless Olivia from the floor. She was awed by his gentle consideration as he carried her from the small washroom, angling her carefully past the mangled door before laying her softly down on the chesterfield. Snatching some tissues from his desktop, he dabbed at her damp cheeks and still wet mouth, picking out a long strand of hair from where it had caught between her lips.

‘I’ll get you a glass of water,’ he said gently, and hurried back to the washroom.

Unfortunately, his absence brought Olivia’s mind back to the scene of the crime, so to speak. The sight of her shoes and underwear on the floor near his desk made her groan. Memories flooded in of the things she had done and said.

Her heart twisting, she rolled over, buried her face into the black studded leather and burst into fresh tears.

The chesterfield dipped behind her, and she felt Lewis’s hand on her trembling shoulder.

‘Please don’t, Olivia. God, I can’t bear to see you like this.’

‘I...I’m sorry,’ she blubbered.

‘It’s not you who should be apologising.’

Olivia heard his guilt and felt terrible. With a great effort of will she pulled herself together and rolled over to face him. ‘But it wasn’t your fault, Lewis.’

‘Yeah, right.’

His eyes dropped from hers, his shoulders sagging.

Olivia took the glass of water he was holding and drank deeply, using the time it took to empty the glass to collect herself, and her thoughts. She supposed she could keep indulging herself and totally fall apart. Or she could face what she’d done, honestly and without melodrama, and try to go on from there.

The temptation to just throw in the towel was strong, she had to admit. After all, what was the point in going on? The future she’d been working for and planning towards had no hope of being revived. Yvette had seen to that Olivia knew it would take ages before she could trust her heart to another man. If ever.

Olivia was a very careful person.

When she was sober, that was.

Olivia gulped down the last of the water and came to a decision. Lewis didn’t deserve her adding to his guilt in this matter. She could at least pretend she was all right for now, even if it wasn’t so.

There was no doubt in her mind, however, that she would have to resign. How could she possibly face Lewis day after day in this very office? How could she stop the memory of this afternoon from undermining both her own self-respect and the respect her boss once had for her?

Still...the resigning could wait till after the Christmas break. Frankly, she was far too fragile to do anything at the moment except go back to her flat and go to bed.

Alone.

But first she had to make Lewis feel better about his part in all this.

‘Thank you,’ she said quietly, and handed him back the empty glass.

His eyes lifted to search her face. ‘Are you going to be all right, Olivia?’

‘Yes, of course,’ she said, although her smile was small and wan. ‘I’m just being a typical woman.’

‘Oh, no,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘You’re far from being a typical woman.’

Olivia blushed fiercely and Lewis groaned. ‘That’s not what I meant, damn it! Hell, I can’t seem to do anything right.’

‘I think you’ve done a lot of things right, Lewis. Not many men would be as considerate or caring in the same circumstances. Believe me when I say I don’t blame you for a single thing.’

‘That’s because you’re not in my body.’

Olivia decided to leave that one well and truly alone. ‘What’s done is done,’ she said wearily. ‘I think we’re both being far too hard on ourselves.’

The corner of Lewis’s mouth lifted in a wry expression. ‘Naturally. We’re human beings. But perhaps you’re right. Enough is enough. I’d better take you home now. You still look a little green around the gills.’

Olivia didn’t doubt it. She felt dreadful. Alcohol poisoning, probably. Either that or some of the seafood she’d devoured with gay abandon on her champagne high might have harboured some gut-raising bacteria.

‘I’ll bring the car round to the side door,’ Lewis offered, ‘and meet you there in... say... five minutes?’

Olivia was grateful for the opportunity to retrieve her underwear in private, although the action of gulling them on sent her back to that unbelievable moment when she’d taken them off. Had that really been her, that incredibly bold and sexy woman who’d held Lewis in thrall? He hadn’t been able to take his eyes off her, hadn’t been able to stop himself from wanting her.

Olivia shuddered violently. She still could not believe what she’d done. Looking back, it was as if it had been some other person saying and doing those things.

Shaking her head, she leant against the desk while she angled her feet back into her shoes then stuffed the ends of her blouse back into her skirt. When she walked out to her own office the first thing she saw was the black bow she’d so recklessly pulled out of her hair all those hours earlier. Groaning, she shoved the painful reminder into her handbag, swept up her jacket from the back of her chair and hurried out of the room.

Lewis was waiting for her by the side door, sitting behind the wheel of his sleek navy Fairlane Ghia. Spotting her, he was out of the car in a flash.

‘I was keeping the air-conditioning running,’ he said as he steered her gently over to the passenger door. ‘You might have to give me directions. I know you live in Gladesville somewhere, but I’m not sure of the address.’

‘Just head down Victoria Road,’ she said wretchedly while he settled her in the passenger seat and buckled the seat belt for her. When his arm twice brushed across her still aching breasts she flinched, then froze. ‘I...I’ll tell you where to turn,’ she said stiffly.

Thank God it was only about a fifteen-minute drive at this time of day. The thought of going anywhere in a car with her dangerously rolling stomach was horrendous, the thought of having to bear much more of Lewis’s solicitous attentions even worse.

The urge to scream at him was intense. Yet why should she want to do that? It was Nicholas she should be screaming at. He was the bastard, not her boss.

Somehow she got through the next quarter of an hour, but when the Fairlane slid quietly into the kerb outside her block of flats she exhaled deeply, which brought a sharp sideways glance from Lewis.

‘I’m coming up with you,’ he announced baldly.

Her head whipped round, her expression pained. ‘Oh, no, Lewis, please don’t. I...I just want to be alone.’

‘I don’t want any arguments, Olivia.’

Groaning, she closed her eyes. Olivia knew her boss could be stubborn. And quite forceful at times. She could admire such qualities at work, but not here, and not now.

Time for a little forcefulness of her own.

Steeling her still queasy stomach, she faced him with an equally stubborn expression. ‘I’m sorry, Lewis, but we’re not at work now, and you’ll just have to take no for an answer. If you’re worried I might do something silly, then don’t I’m made of tougher stuff than that.’

‘We all have moments of weakness, Olivia,’ he said quietly, and she wondered if he was talking about what had happened earlier, or how he had felt when his wife left him. ‘It’s not good to be alone,’ he added tellingly, ‘when you’re this unhappy.’

‘I won’t be alone,’ she told him. ‘At least...not for long. I’m going home tomorrow for the entire Christmas break.’

‘Where’s home?’ he asked, then shook his head in exasperation. ‘God, I don’t even know that, do I? I don’t know much about you at all. You’ve been my private and personal secretary for eighteen months and I know no more about you than I would a temp. Why is that, Olivia? Is that your fault, or mine?’

She shrugged. ‘If you recall, when you hired me I was warned not to dress too flashily and not to be too familiar in my manner towards you. Your wife didn’t care for your last secretary’s forwardness, remember?’

‘Yes, I remember,’ he said ruefully.

‘That’s the only reason I told you about my relationship with Nicholas—because I thought it might put Dinah’s mind at rest about any possible intentions she might think I secretly harboured towards you.’

‘And why you never do yourself up much for work, perhaps?’

‘In a way.’

‘What does that mean?’

‘It actually suits me to dress the way I do,’ she told him with a tight, dry little smile. ‘It’s cheap.’

Lewis frowned. ‘Cheap?’

Olivia almost laughed. ‘That’s something you should have worked out about me, Lewis. I’m cheap. Oh, not in the way I was cheap today, though God knows that was cheap to end all cheaps. But cheap meaning money. In other words, I’m tight-fisted. Stingy. Penny-pinching. I have a penchant for budgets, you see. And savings. And lists. Oh, yes, I’m a great list-maker.

‘But my worst sin of all,’ she swept on, ‘is that I’m boring. According to my recently defunct fiancé, I don’t have a spontaneous, impulsive bone in my body. That’s why he left me in favour of a fantastic, funloving free spirit named Yvette who does all sorts of exciting things to him, things boring old Olivia would never do in a million years!

‘But he was wrong, wasn’t he?’ She flashed Lewis a sickly smile, near hysteria hiding behind its savage sweetness. ‘I can do those things. And in an office, no less. Nicholas would have been surprised, don’t you think?’

‘I think you should forget about Nicholas,’ Lewis advised.

‘Oh, I will. In time. I’m going in now, Lewis. Alone. Sorry I didn’t get you anything for Christmas. I meant to buy something today, but today didn’t turn out quite like I’d planned. Nothing lately is turning out quite like I planned. Do have a happy Christmas and a well deserved break. Not that you will. I know you’ll spend the next five weeks in your laboratory, inventing more marvellous new products for your All Woman line. But that’s not work to you, is it? That’s your pleasure. I’m rattling on, aren’t I? Sorry. I’m fine. Truly. This time tomorrow I’ll be on the train home. Funnily enough, I’m almost looking forward to it. Didn’t think I ever would. Christmas at home is always a madhouse. Maybe this year I’ll fit right in.

‘See you in five weeks, boss,’ she added as she scrambled out of the car.

Olivia waved him off with a plastic smile on her face. Yes, she would see him again in five weeks. With her resignation letter in tow. Her conscience demanded she stay on for the four weeks’ notice required in her contract, but that was as much as she could cope with.

It would be difficult to face him every day, but she would manage. And she would find Lewis a replacement who wouldn’t give him any trouble, a nice, efficient, sensible, mature woman. Married, preferably. Happily married.

Poor Lewis hadn’t had much luck with his secretaries lately. First, an oversexed blonde trying to catch herself a meal-ticket for life, then an undersexed brunette trying to prove she could be a right raver when required.

The right raver felt anything but as she made her way on glass legs up the stairs of the plain red-brick building to her ancient and tiny second-floor flat. Her head was pounding and her stomach on the roll again. She just made it to the bathroom before being sick once more.

After her stomach was well and truly empty, she stripped and stood under the shower for ages, trying to wash the various smells from her body.

Feeling only marginally better but a lot cleaner, she finally emerged, dried herself, dragged on an oversized T-shirt then lay down on top of her bed. After half an hour she abandoned the idea of sleep in the claustrophobic and stuffy room, and rose to throw open the windows then make herself some black coffee. Pain tablets didn’t seem like a good idea on her heaving stomach, despite the throbbing in her temples. An ice-pack helped a little.

By seven, she’d managed a little Vegemite toast, washed down with some more strong black coffee. Afterwards, she tried to pack, but in the end abandoned the idea in favour of television. Watching an episode of Cracker made her feel marginally better, her messed-up life seeming quite normal compared to the twisted, tortured lives in that show.

It also took her mind off things. It was eleven by the time she turned off the television and faced sleep once more. She was lying there, staring blankly up at the ceiling, when she remembered her pill.

Jumping up, she raced into the bathroom. Good God, what if she’d gone to sleep and forgotten it entirely? The thought appalled her.

Olivia swallowed Friday’s pill and returned to bed where, once again, sleep eluded her. She began wondering what Lewis really thought of the way she’d acted. He’d made all the right noises afterwards, being a decent man. But he had to have lost respect for her. Perverse, since in her intoxicated state she’d thought respect was what she was looking for.

Well, she was going to pay for her folly, wasn’t she? She was going to have to leave a job she liked and a boss she admired. People did pay for their sins, didn’t they? You could do the right thing all your life, but make one mistake and your whole world could come crashing down. Not that her world hadn’t already come crashing down before today.

Sighing wearily, she closed her eyes and tried to empty her mind. Sleep did come, eventually, but it didn’t last. She woke shortly after two, sweating, and with stomach cramps. It seemed the consequences of the Christmas party hadn’t done with her yet. One of the prawns or oysters she’d eaten must have been bad.

Crawling from her bed, she struggled along to the toilet where she sat for what seemed like hours. Finally, she made it back into bed where she tossed and turned till her next visit to the bathroom. By morning, she was pale and exhausted. Nothing, however, she vowed staunchly, was going to stop her packing and getting on that train.

The telephone started ringing as she was heading for the door with her bags mid-morning. After a momentary hesitation, Olivia kept on walking, telling herself that she didn’t have the time to talk to anyone. The taxi was waiting for her downstairs.

If it was Nicholas, then he could go hang himself. If it was Lewis ... well, the sooner her boss realised she wasn’t his problem the better. She didn’t want his pity.

And that was all it was. Pity. His heart still belonged to his wife. Any fool could see that. What had happened in his office yesterday had been sex. Nothing more. Everyone knew men could enjoy sex without being emotionally involved.

As did drunken women, it seemed, whispered a snide little voice in her head.

The phone kept ringing all the while she was locking her flat door. What if it was Lewis, thinking he could have more of the same over the Christmas break? What if he hadn’t fully understood that hadn’t been the real Olivia making love to him yesterday? What if, underneath, he’d believed her when she’d said she’d always fancied him?

Oh, dear God...

Shuddering anew, Olivia hurried downstairs and into the waiting taxi.

CHAPTER FOUR

‘I WAS right, Olivia,’ the doctor said as he examined the small strip of test paper. ‘You are pregnant. From the dates you gave me and the size of your uterus, I’d say about a month.’

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