A Seasonal Secret. Diana Hamilton

was watching the way his mouth moved, inhaling the fresh masculine scent of him, fighting the insane impulse to wind her arms around his neck and move closer, close enough to be part of him. His words merely grazed the surface of her consciousness, drowned out by the thunder-beats of her heart.

      But when he asked gently, his fingers sliding down to briefly caress her delicate jawline, the slender line of her neck, ‘Beth, what happened? You didn’t marry your boy’s father—wouldn’t the relationship have worked out?’ she was jolted back to stark reality with a vengeance, like the shock of having been suddenly plunged into a pool of icy water.

      What in heaven’s name did she think she’d been doing? Having lustful thoughts about another woman’s husband, her whole body responding to his touch, the seductive velvet stroke of his eyes…

      And, just as dangerous, she heard the squeaky hinges of the boys’ bedroom door, tentative footsteps on the top of the stairs.

      Jerking backwards, she uttered thickly, ‘I don’t think that’s any of your business, do you? Now, if you’ll excuse me—’ she walked to the door on legs that felt as if they didn’t belong to her and dragged it open ‘—I have a lot to do.’

      And she willed him to go, right now, right this minute, before the boys reached the foot of the stairs and he had the time and the leisure to really look at James and begin to wonder…