Guilty. Anne Mather

      ‘Scusi, but I am not talking about Julie,’ retorted Jake, and when she would have turned her back on him completely, his hand came out and took hold of her wrist. ‘Don’t walk out on me again.’

      She was glad he hadn’t touched her arm. The lean fingers coiling about her wrist were unknowingly hard, and the flesh above her elbow still ached from the night before. Even so, she couldn’t prevent the spasm of pain that crossed her face, when he pulled her round to face him, and his eyes narrowed consideringly between his thick lashes.