First-Class Seduction

But it was undoubtedly morning. She could see the sunlight like a red haze and feel the warmth on her face and eyelids.

While her brain stirred into confused life her eyes remained shut against the light that threatened to dazzle her.

She felt terrible! Headachy and nauseous.

Was she suffering from flu? A migraine?

Whichever, and though proud of her full attendance record, she seriously doubted if she could make it into work today.

Maybe it was a weekend? she thought hopefully.

An attempt to remember proved unsuccessful. She hadn’t the faintest notion what day it was.

Had she felt ill the previous evening?

With no recollection of the previous evening, or of going to bed, she couldn’t answer that.

But wasn’t she at the Bentincks’? Wasn’t it their ruby wedding anniversary?

Yes, there had been a Friday night party…Dancing…Champagne…Too much champagne? She didn’t drink much as a rule…

It had been silly of her to drink more than one glass of champagne on an empty stomach, but she had never envisaged such drastic results.

So how had she got to bed?

Perhaps Roderick had rescued her? She only hoped her state hadn’t been too obvious. While he was broadminded where other people were concerned, he wouldn’t like his fiancée making a spectacle of herself in front of his parents’ guests.

Nor would she!

The thought that she might have looked or acted inebriated made her feel even worse, and she moaned aloud.

‘Feeling rough?’ a sympathetic male voice asked, close to her ear.

Her eyes flew open.

Blinded by the sun streaming through the window, for a moment Bel could see nothing but brightness, then, as her vision adjusted, a lean, attractive face, the jaw rough with morning stubble, came into focus.

His brows were well-marked, his nose strong, almost aquiline, and above a squarish chin he had the most beautiful mouth she’d ever seen on a man.

He was lying beside her, propped on one elbow, a sheet pulled up to his middle. His muscular shoulders and tanned chest, with its sprinkling of crisp dark hair, were bare.

So, undoubtedly, was the rest of him.

As she gaped brilliant eyes between thick, sooty lashes smiled into hers.

Bel sat up with a jerk. She too was naked, her pale, silky hair tumbling over smooth shoulders and small, beautifully shaped pink-tipped breasts.

His appreciative gaze strayed over her and lingered on her mouth. ‘You’re even lovely first thing in the morning with a hangover.’ He leaned closer, as if to kiss her.

She recoiled and, pushing back the sheet, attempted to get out of bed. The sudden movement sent her head spinning and made her sink back against the pillows with a groan.

It wouldn’t have been quite so bad if the man beside her had been the man she was going to marry, but for it to be Andrew Storm…!

The full horror of the situation was just beginning to dawn on her when, without warning, the bedroom door was flung open, and Suzy, wearing a short tennis dress, erupted into the room, Roderick at her heels.

‘There! What did I tell you?’ No one could have doubted the redhead’s malicious triumph, while Roderick, still in his maroon cotton pyjamas, stood as if stunned, his eyes popping, his jaw slack.

There was a terrible silence before, his voice anguished, Roderick demanded of Bel, ‘How could you?’

When, her oval face white as paper, her throat blocked, she only stared at him in abject misery, a hard flush of colour appeared along his cheekbones and he cried furiously, ‘Get out! Go on, get out of my parents’ house, the pair of you!’

He was turning to follow Suzy when Andrew said calmly, ‘Just a minute.’ Reaching across Bel, his arm brushing her bare breasts, he picked up an object from the bedside cabinet and, a look of quiet satisfaction on his dark face, tossed it across to the other man. ‘You’d better have this back.’

Only when Bel looked from the glittering object in Roderick’s palm to her own bare hand did she realise it was her engagement ring. She must have taken it off, sober enough to feel some sense of shame.

Thrusting the ring into his pocket, Roderick had swung on his heel when he caught sight of the Jesse Harland figurine on the dressing table.

As he picked it up, guessing his intention, Bel cried in horror, ‘Oh, no! Please don’t!’

But, ignoring her appeal, he hurled it savagely against the wall, shattering it into a dozen pieces.

Covering her face with her hands, Bel burst into tears just as the door slammed shut behind him.

As though it was the most natural thing in the world, Andrew took her in his arms and held her close, cradling her head against his broad chest while she wept unrestrainedly.

For a while her response to his tenderness, to the strength of his arms and the soothing murmur of his low, attractive voice, was total.

Then, horrified by the dawning realisation that she was accepting comfort from the man who, by taking advantage of her stupidity, was largely responsible for the situation, she managed to choke back the tears and wrench herself free.

Her pounding head protesting at the violence of the movement, she moaned, pressing slim fingers to her temples.

‘You need something for that hangover.’

When Andrew swung his feet to the floor and reached for his clothes, even through her distress and discomfort Bel saw that his naked, bronzed body was lithe and graceful, with a masculine beauty that drew and held her attention and made her oddly breathless.

Pulling on his trousers and tucking his unbuttoned shirt into the waistband, he headed for the door, saying over his shoulder, ‘I’ll only be a minute.’

As if he’d had the remedy to hand, he reappeared almost immediately, shaking a sachet of something that looked like sugar granules into a tooth glass half full of water.

‘Drink that,’ he instructed. ‘It’s not particularly palatable but it will lift your head and settle your stomach in no time at all.’

She obeyed, grimacing at the revoltingly bittersweet saltiness of the effervescent concoction.

Taking the empty glass, he added briskly, ‘Now I suggest you shower and dress. I’ll go and do the same, then we’ll get the hell out of here. We can stop for some breakfast on the way.’

The very thought of food made Bel’s stomach turn over sickeningly.

His glance knowing, sympathetic, he assured her, ‘In an hour or so you’ll be able to tackle a plateful of bacon and eggs.’