don’t know. That’s why I’m asking you.’
Clearly she didn’t believe him, but she said patiently, ‘Because he thinks I’m a—a friend of yours, I suppose.’ She shook her head. ‘He’s not a fool. He could tell we’d known one another before you turned up at the café.’
‘So what did you tell him?’
* * *
Abby put down her own cup, afraid he would notice how her hands were shaking. ‘I didn’t tell him anything,’ she stated flatly. ‘What was I supposed to say? That we’d met five years ago in a wine bar? That you were in danger of defending my honour, before discovering I was an unfaithful wife?’
She paused. ‘Or would you rather I told him that you took your revenge by seducing me here a week ago? That you—how is it the romantic novelists put it?—that you had your wicked way with me, and then walked out without even saying goodbye?’
Luke straightened. ‘That’s not true!’
‘What’s not true? You did have sex with me.’
He scowled. ‘By no means could you call it having my wicked way with you, Abby. You didn’t exactly push me away.’
Abby got up from the sofa. ‘I think you’d better go.’
‘Why?’ He looked up at her, his dark eyes impaling hers. He waited a beat and then added softly, ‘Don’t you like the direction our conversation is going? Can you honestly say you didn’t want me as much as I wanted you?’
Abby moved towards the door, ordering Harley to stay where he was without a lot of success. ‘Just go,’ she said, turning away as if she couldn’t bear to look at him. ‘It’s too late to be having this discussion now.’
‘Oh, I agree.’
Luke got to his feet and went after her. Ignoring Harley’s bid for attention, he caught Abby’s arms and jerked her back against him, burying his face in the scented hollow at her nape. ‘Abby, let’s stop arguing. You have no idea what you do to me.’
Abby knew what he did to her, and she caught her breath. ‘Don’t do this, Luke!’ The word please hovered on the tip of her tongue, but she managed to hold it back.
‘Why not?’ His tongue sought the pulse beating rapidly below her ear and he let one hand stroke sensuously over her cheek. His thumb found her mouth, parted her lips and pushed inside. ‘Can you honestly say this isn’t what you really want?’
Abby couldn’t prevent her tongue from seeking his thumb, couldn’t deny the hunger growing deep in her belly. Luke was like an addiction, she thought. Now that she’d tasted his lovemaking, she wanted to taste it again.
And how pitiful was that?
His hand moved to her breast, massaging the erect peak through the fabric of her shirt. Emotions that wouldn’t be denied stirred inside her. Where would be the harm in giving in to him? she asked herself crazily. Why was she denying herself the simple pleasure of his touch?
‘Do you want me to go?’ he asked huskily, his free hand sliding possessively along her jaw, turning her mouth to his.
And, God help her, she didn’t try to resist him this time. She let his lips capture hers and let her mouth accept the hungry invasion of his tongue.
Her head swam. But it wasn’t the fault of the wine she’d drunk earlier. The feelings his kiss aroused caused a sensual dizziness she couldn’t control. His heat, hot and thick, enveloped her, wrapping her in a cocoon of need that it was virtually impossible to deny.
Her hands slid up his chest, feeling the quickening beat of his heart. His silk shirt moved sensuously against her palms, and she clutched a handful greedily. She was drowning in physical sensation, losing any sense of who she was. Who he was.
‘Abby,’ he protested hoarsely, when she tore open two of his shirt buttons and pressed her lips against his chest.
Abby ignored him. She’d discovered that his skin was damp and salty and lightly spread with dark hair. It reminded her unmistakeably of the way it arrowed down below his navel, cradling the swollen pressure of his sex.
God knew, he was a temptation, and she was not immune to the memories that she’d denied for so long.
Memories of him all those years ago, kissing her in his car in the car park at the apartments where she’d lived with Harry. Memories of how nervous she’d been when she’d made that call. Memories of how he’d looked in the wine bar, when Harry had told him what a fool he’d been in trusting her...
And what was she doing now? Did she want him to think she was that easy? Because, truth to tell, she probably was where he was concerned.
His kiss hardened and deepened, and he dragged her closer against him, so she could feel every taut muscle behind his zip. One of his legs pushed between hers, forcing her nearer. And she could feel the wetness inside her panties and the ultra-sensitive pressure of her sex against his thigh.
Harley whined, and she was brought unwillingly to her senses. Evidently the retriever didn’t like being neglected, or perhaps he was trying to remind her of what had happened before.
She shouldn’t run away with the idea that because Luke wanted her, he didn’t still believe she had stayed with Harry because he could keep her in the luxurious manner to which she’d become accustomed. He still thought she’d been a rich bitch, looking for diversion.
If he only knew. If only he’d let her explain...
But she’d tried that once before without any success.
In addition to which, she mustn’t forget that he was also prepared to deprive her—and the other leaseholders—of their livelihoods. She shouldn’t expect any special favours from a man like him.
Catching her breath, she drew back and managed to put a little space between them. Then, swallowing, she said, ‘Can we talk?’
Luke’s brows drew together, and he raked back his tumbled hair with a slightly unsteady hand. ‘You’re not serious.’
‘I am.’
‘Abby, you do know what’s going on here?’ His own face was flushed, and there was impatience in his tone. ‘What in God’s name do you want to talk to me about right now?’
Abby stared at him. ‘I want to talk about Harry.’
‘You’re kidding!’ He stared at her disbelievingly. ‘I thought we dealt with that earlier.’
‘Well, you were wrong.’ She caught her lower lip between her teeth. ‘I was wrong. I have to tell you why I stayed with him when—’
‘Oh, not that again.’ Now Luke linked both hands at the back of his neck and stared at her with bitter eyes. ‘I know why you stayed with Laurence, Abby.’
‘No, you don’t.’
‘I’m not a fool, Abby. The guy was a cash cow. You’re not the first woman to marry a man for his money.’
‘You
