too.’
After Abby clicked off her phone she just sat there, thinking about some of the things Megan had said about her marriage to Wayne. It was true that her husband had loved her more than she’d loved him. But she had loved him. Okay, not with a grand passion. Her feelings for Wayne had been based more on a deep friendship and eternal gratitude rather than the kind of wild sexual yearnings which some people obviously experienced.
Abby supposed she had been flattered by Wayne’s fiercely possessive love. And his insatiable desire for her. After her second miscarriage, she’d wanted to take her doctor’s advice to go on the Pill and give her body a rest. But no, Wayne had refused to countenance that idea, saying he didn’t like to interfere with nature. He’d promised instead to abstain from sex for a while but, of course, that hadn’t lasted for long. He’d never been able to control his desire for her and she’d never felt good about refusing him, mostly because she knew how much he seemed to need it.
Abby liked the kissing and cuddling part of lovemaking—she’d loved being wrapped in Wayne’s strong arms—but she’d never felt any urgent need for the sex act itself, unlike Megan, who claimed she couldn’t live without it. It had never really bothered Abby that she didn’t come during lovemaking. It had bothered Wayne, however, so after a while she had just faked it.
She hadn’t had to fake falling pregnant, however, and a few months after her second miscarriage she’d been pregnant again. But, once again, she’d miscarried at the three months stage. After that, she’d gone on the Pill without discussing it with Wayne, and she was still taking it long after her husband was gone, mainly because she’d discovered it saved her from premenstrual tension.
It felt good, Abby realised, to finally be in control of her body and, yes, her life. She’d been gutted by Wayne’s tragic death, had taken months to get over it. But in the end she’d picked herself up and moved on.
Now, because of Craig’s wonderful kindness and generosity, she would be able to move on some more. And Jake would find another housekeeper easily enough.
Thinking of Jake reminded Abby of what Megan had said about him, and about men in general. Abby had to admit that her view of the opposite sex was possibly narrower than her sister’s. But she wasn’t stupid. She was sure she would recognise a sleazebag when she came across one. And Jake Sanderson was no sleazebag.
But that was possibly the only good point of his character. Abby could see that he had a tendency towards arrogance and self-absorption. Neither was he into commitment, hence his never-ending parade of beautiful girlfriends. But that didn’t mean he would be a cheater. She couldn’t imagine him having sex with some flashy, fly-by-night actress whilst he was dating that truly gorgeous newsreader.
Abby would be utterly disgusted if she ever found out he had done something like that. Not that it was any of her business what her boss did in his private and personal life. Still, it bothered her a bit, thinking that he could be, right at this moment, meeting up with Maddie Hanks somewhere in the city then bringing her back to his place for the night.
It occurred to Abby that she would know within a minute of arriving at his house tomorrow morning if he’d had a new woman stay overnight. Abby knew his current girlfriend’s smell because she recognised the perfume. It was a heavy musky scent which didn’t wear off easily. During the last few weeks Abby had smelled that perfume every couple of days, and almost always on a Monday after the weekend.
But not this Monday morning, she suddenly realised. Which led her to wonder if maybe they’d split up. Maybe that was why he’d been giving Maddie Hanks the eye on his show today. Men like Jake didn’t go without sex for long. Because they didn’t have to. Women threw themselves at famous men in droves—beautiful, sexy, successful women who knew everything there was to know about lovemaking and never had to fake a thing.
A very rude word burst from Abby’s lips as she stood up abruptly then marched into her immaculate little kitchen, where she snapped on the kettle then yanked open the freezer, which was full of frozen meals for one.
Still feeling decidedly disgruntled, she grabbed a chilli con carne and shoved it into the microwave to reheat, telling herself all the while that her boss’s sex life was definitely none of her business.
‘He can sleep with whomever he damned well likes,’ she said in a tone quite uncharacteristic of her usual serene self. ‘Just so long as he delivers everything he promised me today!’
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