The Seduction Game

The Seduction Game
Sara Craven

Forbidden desires…Adam Barnard could have stepped straight out of Tara's fantasies. A devastatingly sexy hunk, the mysterious stranger was the first man in years to set Tara's heart racing. But since the last man she let close had cruelly betrayed her, Tara had sworn off men.She wasn't ready to take a chance on another - especially a man who didn't seem to be offering her anything more than a red-hot affair. She was determined not to be another notch on Adam's bedpost… only, she couldn't stop herself wanting him!

Cover (#u07f33c34-4f4d-5e7b-a543-56115d95e668)She felt her robe slip from her shoulders, and pool at her feet. (#u6d715917-1325-52c6-be5d-8b95c4c9d14f)About the Author (#ua897652a-5fb4-54f0-b454-bfc6019c200e)Title Page (#ucd0bf26d-348a-5095-a2f8-424ebccb1971)CHAPTER ONE (#u97be5c5b-8699-5082-a1a0-7589529a122a)CHAPTER TWO (#u224860d9-2734-54b1-b6e5-c7e4ad9e7903)CHAPTER THREE (#u6ef8b69f-61db-5168-a46c-c07580e66117)CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)Endpage (#litres_trial_promo)Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)

She felt her robe slip from her shoulders, and pool at her feet.

His lips were cool and fresh, exploring hers with a kind of exquisite, lingering deliberation.

Tara felt herself sigh against his mouth, a deep-drawn breath held for an eternity. As she descended into the sweet chaos of pure sensation, she told herself, somehow, that she should hold back—walk away. That this was wrong because Adam belonged to someone else, and it could only lead to heartbreak.

But it had been so long since she’d known what it was to be a woman. After Jack’s betrayal, she’d believed herself armored forever against the seductive craving of the flesh, but it was only a fragile shell, after all, and soon shattered. All it had taken was Adam—Adam....

SARA CRAVEN was born in South Devon, England, and surrounded by books, grew up in a house by the sea. After leaving school she worked as a local journalist, covering everything from flower shows to murders. She started writing for Harlequin in 1975. Apart from writing, her passions include films, music, cooking and eating in good restaurants. She now lives in Somerset. Sara Craven has recently become the latest—and last ever—winner of the U.K. quiz show “Mastermind.”

The Seduction Game

Sara Craven

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

CHAPTER ONE

AS THE intercom buzzer sounded Tara Lyndon reached across, without taking her eyes from the computer screen in front of her, and flicked a switch.

‘Janet?’ Her tone was pleasant but crisp. ‘I thought I said no interruptions.’

‘I’m sorry, Miss Lyndon.’ Her secretary’s tone was rueful. ‘But your sister’s on the line, and she’s not easy to refuse.’

Don’t I know it? Tara thought with an inward sigh, anticipating the purpose of Becky’s call.

Aloud, she said, ‘OK, Janet, put her through, please.’

‘Darling.’ Becky’s tone lilted along the line. ‘How are you? Isn’t the weather glorious?’

‘We’re both fine,’ Tara said drily. ‘Becky, I’m up to my eyes in work. Can you make it snappy, please?’

‘No problem.’ Her sister’s response was too swift and too mild. ‘I was just calling to check on the arrangements for the weekend. I couldn’t remember exactly what we’d agreed.’

Pinocchio, thought Tara, your nose has just grown another two inches.

‘There’s no great confusion,’ she returned. ‘You invited me down to Hartside. I told you I couldn’t make it.’

‘And I told you to think it over,’ was the immediate reply. ‘So have you?’

Tara closed her eyes. ‘Becky, it’s very kind of you, but I have things of my own to do.’

‘Don’t tell me. You’re flying to Dusseldorf to interview someone who might be perfect for a job in Tokyo.’

‘No,’ Tara said. ‘I’m going away for a complete break. Total rest and relaxation,’ she added, surreptitiously testing the length of her own nose.

‘But you could have that with us,’ Becky wheedled.

‘If this weather holds up, we’ll be using the pool. And the garden’s looking wonderful. Besides, the children are always asking where you are these days.’

‘Nonsense,’ Tara said sternly. ‘Giles and Emma probably wouldn’t recognise me if they roller-bladed over my recumbent body.’

‘Exactly what I’m getting at,’ Becky came back at her immediately. ‘You’re so tied up in that career of yours that none of us ever see you. And with Ma and Pa nearly on the other side of the world—I—I miss you, Sis.’

The throb of pathos sounded almost convincing, Tara thought, amused in spite of herself, until, of course, one remembered Becky’s adoring husband Harry, her ebullient but delightful brats, her endlessly kind and supportive in-laws and the village of Hartside where she pretty well reigned as queen. If her sister spent one lonely moment, it would be through her own choice.

Interpreting Tara’s silence as an implicit weakening of her position, Becky went on eagerly, ‘Darling, it’s been ages since you came down. Surely you could spare me a couple of days.’

‘And if I did,’ Tara said slowly, ‘could you swear to me that you haven’t rounded up yet another unfortunate man to run past me as a potential husband.’

‘Oh, for heaven’s sake,’ her sister said airily. ‘I wrote you off as a lost cause a long time ago.’

‘Becky.’

‘You’re so suspicious,’ her elder complained.

‘With very good reason,’ Tara said grimly. ‘All right, who is he?’

‘My goodness,’ Becky said with asperity. ‘It’s come to something when I can’t invite a new neighbour round for a drink without you going into conspiracy theory mode.’

‘Who—is—he?’ Tara repeated through gritted teeth.

Becky sighed. ‘He’s just moved into Glebe Cottage—that lovely place near the church. He’s a tax lawyer, middle thirties, and very attractive.’

‘And still single?’ Tara’s brows lifted. ‘What’s the matter with him?’

‘There’s nothing the matter,’ Becky defended. ‘They’re extremely nice people.’

‘They?’

Becky hesitated. ‘Well, his mother’s staying with him at the moment, helping him settle in.’

‘My God.’ Tara felt an unholy bubble of glee well up inside her. ‘He’s thirty-something and he still lives with Mummy?’

‘Nothing of the kind. It’s a purely temporary measure. She has a very nice home of her own. And she’s desperate for him to meet the right woman.’

‘I’m sure she is.’ Tara’s tone was dry. ‘She probably has the poisoned dagger ready and waiting.’

‘I don’t think that job is doing you any good,’ Becky said severely. ‘It’s made you disagreeably cynical.’

‘It’s certainly taught me to differentiate between people’s public faces and private agendas,’ Tara agreed. ‘Whatever, I’m afraid I’m not tempted to change my plans. I’m going to spend the weekend relaxing in my own way.’ Not to mention the following two weeks as well, she added silently.

‘And on your own, I suppose?’