SYNOPSIS A pair of black kid evening gloves that breathe new fire into as illicit romance; a daring date to a different kind of peep show; a music lesson with an inspirational teacher ...CHAPTER 1STACEY PLUMPED UP the pillows and leaned against the headboard. She could hear Ross moving around downstairs and guessed that he was preparing a special breakfast tray. She sighed. He tried, poor darling. But whatever he did she knew it would make no difference. They were in a rut. She still loved him, but the spark had gone. They were ... comfortable together. Cosy. Still, what could you expect after seven years of marriage? When the door opened and Ross came in, she pasted a smile on her face. After all, you were supposed to be happy on your birthday. He had placed a single scarlet rose next to the freshly Squeezed orange juice. There was a fresh peach, yoghurt with honey and toasted nuts, her favourite morning paper. The smell of freshly brewed coffee filled the room. Ross tossed a b
‘THIS WAY, THE fire’s through here. Oh, do hurry.’ Julia clutched her long satin robe close, conscious that she wore only a few scraps of silk and lace beneath it. ‘Stand back, madam,’ the burly fireman said, putting out his arm to prevent her going back into the bedroom. ‘I'll soon deal with this.’ She stood on the threshold, watching him as he crossed the room. In an instant he had quenched the fire. He turned and looked at her, a grin creasing his boyish face. Julia’s pulses quickened. What a combination. That clean-cut face coupled with a big, obviously well-toned body was devastating. ‘All done. Not much damage at all. Good thing you contacted us so quickly. Looks like an electrical fault. I'd advise you to have all the wiring checked.’ ‘Yes. Thanks. I will,’ Julia said. ‘’m so grateful that you arrived promptly.’ ‘We were on our way back to the station. It’s the end of my night shift.' He glanced at his wrist-watch. ‘Actually I’m into free time now. My shift ended ten minut
‘WHERE'D YOU WANT it, love?’ Looking at the mirror again Josie wondered what had possessed her to buy it. Still, it had been a bargain for fifty quid. With that ornate gilt frame, all garlands, swags and cherubs, it had to be at least a hundred years old. It was so imposing, so ugly, that no one else had wanted it. Josie had found herself bidding when the price dropped. Somehow she had known that it was meant for her. ‘Well?’ the delivery man said, losing patience. ‘I haven't got all day. Which room? Up or down?’ For a moment Josie was nonplussed. She had not thought that far ahead. What was wrong with her? She was not given to making impulsive purchases. In fact, she was not impulsive at all - usually. It seemed to her then that she heard Sam’s voice - his tone of bored annoyance, one she remembered only too well. 'Where the hell did you get that monstrosity? Are you mad?’ That decided it. She felt a surge of mild rebellion. I'll do as I damn well like, she thought. ‘It can go
ROSE GAVE EMMA a lingering kiss, then fitted the key into the ornate front door. ‘See you in the morning then?’ she said, hoping that Emma would change her mind and stay in the house with her. Emma shuddered and pulled up the collar of her black leather jacket. She looked up at the pointed-arch windows that seemed to stare down atthe twowomen. - ‘It’s a bloody mausoleum. I’ve always hated this house.’ Her voice softened, became wheedling. She reached up to stroke Rose’s cheek. 'You don’t have to do this, you know. Come back to the flat with me.’ Rose grinned, enlivening her elfin face. ‘I never go back on a dare. You should know that by now.’ ‘I won't hold you to it. We were both drunk. What is it with you and this house, anyway?’ Rose shrugged, the mass ‘of striking red dreadlocks dancing around her shoulders. She opened the front door. “You keeping me company or what?’ Emma’s straight brows dipped in a frown. ‘Sod you then, if you won’t listen to sense. I’m off.’ She turned
‘SO, WHAT DO you do to combat executive stress? I love to go shopping myself. Nothing like anew outfit to give me a lift.’ The nasal voice of Linda the fashion editor floated into Anna’s office as she sat staring at the screen of her Apple Mac battling with a feature which would not come right. She pushed back her chair in frustration and began paying attention to the conversation outside. ‘I play squash. Sometimes treat myself to a facial or a leg wax.’ That was Corrina, deputy fashion editor. Both women in the corridor had recently joined the editing team of ‘Pzazz’ magazine, gaining the coveted jobs by calling in favours from high-ups in the trade. Squash? A leg wax? Shopping? God help us! Anna thought. Is that the best. they can come up with to fill their spare time? She had an impulse, quickly squashed, to go and tell them what she had planned for relaxation later in the day. How their perfectly made-up faces would go blank with disbelief. Cheered by the thought, Anna opened
AS I MOUNT the stairs the feeling begins, low in the pit of my stomach, a mixture of dread and anticipation. The porter carries my cello case into the room and places it by the window. I tell him to collect me in one hour. The room is empty — more than empty: bereft without you in it. I walk across it, my buttoned boots clicking on the bleached oak boards, and sit on the window seat, waiting. The afternoon light streams in through billowing muslin curtains. Outside in the street a breeze rustles the leaves of the plane trees. I stare at the buildings opposite, their wrought-iron balconies crowded with tubs of flowers - lilies, mimosa, roses. The white stucco is dazzling in the summer light. When the door to the studio opens, I do not look around immediately, wanting to suspend the moment until I see your face. When I turn, I see that you are not very remarkable. I know how you must seem to others, but you are large in my thoughts. Hair of mid-brown, a longish serious face, your fin
AS THE SMALL chartered plane began losing altitude, curving around in a graceful arc, Ruth Shepard leaned forward in her executive-class seat. Through breaks in the clouds she could see the ocean far below, a vast gleaming expanse of aquamarine. Ruth smoothed the skirt of her designer suit then glanced at the woman who sat next to her, an eye-mask covering the upper part of her face. Nancy Brogan, a high-up in a prestigious American design company, was snoring softly. She had been asleep since their conversation at the start of the journey. Ruth wished she was calm enough to doze, but her mind kept dwelling on what Nancy had said. When Ruth asked her if she had received a letter, Nancy had replied, ‘Sure. Mine came in the mail at my company office. I expect this is going to be another of those hare-brained schemes to hone my management skills. You would not believe the seminars and courses I’ve attended.’ She rolled her eyes and shrugged. ‘I just do as I’m told. He-who-must-beobeyed
‘But I’m supposed to find you! You made no mention of taking some kind of forfeit if you should find one of us first.’ ‘Didn’t I? I must have forgotten to mention it. But you didn’t seem exactly unwilling just now.’ Ruth prickled with mortification. Despite his arrogance she could not deny that she wanted him. She could feel the wetness on her inner thighs. An insistent throbbing was spreading from her clitoris up into her lower belly. How was it possible to desire a man so much when you disliked him intensely? “Oh, I get it now,’ she said. ‘This whole set-up is just for you. You get to seduce all of us in turn. We’re the quarry! The rite you mentioned is a load of rubbish!’ ‘Oh, the rite existed as I explained and I intend to honour my promise — if one of you runs me to ground. But you see, I just don’t think any of you are capable of doing so. The primal female energy no longer exists in the modern woman.’ ‘Don’t be too sure of that,’ Ruth said, drawing back as he bent over her