Mistress To Her Husband. PENNY JORDAN

      A time in his life that was over, Sean tried to remind himself. But the stark truth was already confronting him, even if he did not want to recognise or acknowledge it.

      

      ‘Fancy going to the pub for lunch?’

      Kate shook her head without lifting her gaze from her computer screen. ‘Can’t, I’m afraid, Laura,’ she responded. ‘I want to get this finished, and anyway I’ve brought sandwiches.’

      Lunch at the pub with her co-workers would have been fun and relaxing, but as a single parent Kate was always conscious of having to watch her budget.

      After Laura had gone, Kate got up and collected her sandwiches. The company provided a small restroom, equipped with tea-and coffee-making facilities and a microwave, for the workforce to use during their lunch and tea breaks. She had just reached the end of the corridor and had started to descend the narrow flight of stairs when suddenly Sean came out of one of the lower level offices and started to hurry up the stairs towards her.

      To Kate’s dismay her reaction was immediate and intense, and unfortunately a relic from the days when they had been a couple. So much so, in fact, that she had taken the first of the few steps that would put her right in his path before she could stop herself.

      Immediately she realised what she was doing and froze in pink-cheeked humiliation as a visual memory came vividly alive inside her head. A memory of Sean rushing up the stairs of their small house to grab her in his arms and swing her round in excitement before sliding her down the length of his body and beginning to kiss her with fierce sexual hunger.

      Later they had gone on to celebrate the news he had brought her—that he had secured a new and lucrative contract—in bed, with the champagne he had brought home…

      Red-faced, she pulled her thoughts back under control,

      ‘Kathy!’ Sean demanded grimly as he saw her shocked expression. ‘What the hell’s…? What’s wrong?’

      Alarmed, Kate tried to move away, but Sean stopped her, curling his fingers round her bare arm.

      ‘It’s not Kathy any more,’ she reminded him sharply. ‘It’s Kate! And as for what’s wrong—do you really need to ask me that?’

      She might be Kate now, but Kathy was still there inside her, Kate was forced to acknowledge. Because in direct contradiction of her angry words her body responded to Sean’s touch. Was it because no one had touched her since he had ended their marriage that her caress-starved flesh was quivering with such intense and voluptuous pleasure? Was it because it was Sean who was touching her? Or was it simply that when he had kissed her he had unleashed memories her body could not ignore? Kate wondered frantically.

      Was it a past need her flesh was responding to, or was it a present one? She knew what she wanted the answer to be! But somehow she couldn’t stop herself from stepping closer to him, exhaling on an unsteady sigh of pleasure. Sean was looking at her and she was looking back at him, with the mesmeric intensity of his blue gaze dizzying her.

      She could feel his thumb caressing the inner curve of her elbow, just where he knew how vulnerable and responsive her flesh was to his touch—so vulnerable and responsive that when he had used to kiss her there her whole body had melted with wanton longing.

      It would be so easy, so natural, to walk into his arms now and feel them close protectively around her. To look into his eyes and wait for the familiar look of hot eagerness darken them, whilst his mouth curled into that special smile he had…

      A door opened noisily, bringing her back to reality. Abruptly she stepped back from Sean, her face burning. Maybe years ago she had not needed to hide her feelings from him—her lover, her husband, her best friend—nor her longing and sexual excitement when he looked at her and touched her. But things were different now, Kate reminded herself as she pulled away from him.

      ‘What’s that?’ she heard him demanding as he released her and frowned at the box she was carrying.

      ‘My lunch.’

      ‘Lunch? In that?’ he derided grimly as he looked at the small plastic container. ‘I should have thought for your son’s sake you would want to make sure you ate properly.’

      As she listened to his ill-informed and critical words, her passionate response to him a few minutes earlier was swamped by outrage and anger.

      ‘For your information—not that you have any right to question anything I choose to do any more, Sean—it just so happens that it is for Ollie’s sake that this is my lunch,’ she told him, waving the plastic container defiantly. ‘It costs money to bring up a child—not that you’d know or care anything about that, since you chose not to burden yourself with children,’ she added sarcastically. ‘And a packed lunch is a lot less expensive than going out to the pub. What’s wrong, Sean?’ she demanded when she saw his fixed expression. ‘Or can I guess? You might come across to everyone else here as a caring, sharing employer, but I know different. And I also know, before you remind me, that you are rich enough to eat in the world’s most expensive restaurants these days. But there was a time when even a sandwich was a luxury for you.’