Free The Married Mistress by Kate Walker Page B

fantasies into his mind last night, andlook where that had got him! Tumbling into bed with her without a thought for the wisdom of his acts; the possible consequences.
    Oh, face it, man, you didn’t think at all!
    Or at least if he had done then it had been with a far more basic part of his make-up than his intelligence! The part that was reacting only too visibly now, making him shift uncomfortably in his seat, crossing his legs in what he hoped was a casual manner, and drawing the concealing newspaper lower down so as to cover his lap.
    Why the devil hadn’t he taken the time to get dressed properly instead of just throwing on this far from covering robe, with only a pair of boxer shorts on underneath? He should have known that he wasn’t in control of his sexual responses where Sarah was concerned. That his body was likely to betray him if she was near.
    But he had slept so badly that when he’d finally given up on the attempt to get any rest he’d just forced himself under the shower and then shoved on the dressing gown, thinking only of hot, strong coffee, a much-needed shot of caffeine.
    ‘There’s coffee in the pot if you want some.’ He tried to say it with a casualness he was very far from feeling.
    ‘Oh—thanks…’
    What else could she say? Having nerved herself for a fight, or at the very least some sort of confrontation, she was thoroughly thrown off balance by his relaxed, almost totally indifferent reaction to her appearance. After the appalling scene in her bedroom the evening before, she hadn’t been able to force herself to go downstairs again, not even to get something to eat. Instead she had made up the bed with clean sheets and pillowcases, and stayed resolutely right where she was, watching mind-numbingly boring television programmes on the small portable set until well after midnight. It was only after she had finally heard Damonswitching off all the lights and heading upstairs that she had even tried to settle to sleep.
    So his calm nonchalance was the last thing she had expected, anticipating instead some challenge as to what she thought she was up to, or a taunt about her blatant cowardice in hiding away.
    ‘Would—would you like some more?’
    ‘Please.’
    A hand appeared around the side of the paper, holding out a used, empty mug in her general direction, Damon not even looking up as he continued reading.
    ‘Thanks,’ he acknowledged briefly as she took it from him.
    ‘No problem,’ Sarah forced herself to mutter, struggling to resist the urge to fill the mug and then throw it and its contents straight at his uncaring head.
    Which was so totally ridiculous when she considered it that she actually laughed out loud. All last night she had wished that Damon had never reappeared in her life. She had longed for him to be anywhere but here. And she had dreaded the prospect of the coming morning which would mean that she had to face him when she fully expected that he would subject her, if not to any physical harassment, at least to some sort of verbal assault that would make her want to curl up and die inside.
    So why was she now so annoyed that he was actually ignoring her? Wasn’t it really what she actively preferred? What she should feel most comfortable with? What would make her life a whole lot easier?
    ‘What’s so funny?’
    Damon’s question caught her unawares, making her hand clench so tightly on the coffeepot that it shook precariously in her grasp.
    ‘What?’
    The paper rustled as he finally lowered it to look straightat her and, of course, with the perverse frame of mind she found herself in, she now would have preferred that he had done nothing of the sort.
    ‘You laughed,’ Damon explained mildly. ‘I was wondering what had amused you.’
    ‘Oh, just my thoughts.’
    Sarah tried for airy carelessness and prayed that she had succeeded. She wasn’t too sure, though, and the way that Damon’s black eyes narrowed sharply warned her that she might actually have