Free Hot Pursuit by Anne Mather Page B

seemed like the kind of little girl who would follow her father’s example. Abandoning herself to anything but the reassuring embrace of the water, Sara sat down.
    She winced as its heat probed the tender places of the hip and thigh she’d injured when she fell. Even sitting on the hard enamel was painful at first, but after a few minutes the warmth acted as an analgesic and she was able to relax. She leaned back against the side of the bath and closed her eyes.
    Goodness, that felt good. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a bath. These days taking a shower was so much quicker and easier. Besides, she avoided spending too much time in the bathroom. Without her clothes she felt that much more vulnerable, and it wasn’t above Max to take advantage of it. She’d dreaded those occasions when he’d stepped into the shower with her and—
    Her eyes jerked open. She must stop reliving the past. Eventually what had happened was going to catch up with her, but for now she had to think of something else. She had to think about herself, think of what she was going to do tomorrow. The future stretched ahead of her, uncharted. And, however shameful the admission, she was glad Max was never going to be able to hurt her again.
    By the time she got out of the bath she was feeling infinitely more human. She dried herself on one of the large towels from the rack and then, after a moment’s hesitation, wrapped herself in the cream towelling bathrobe she found hanging on the back of the door. She wondered if Matt would mind if she wore the robe for a couple of hours. Then she could wash and dry her bra and panties. The expensive scraps of silk and lace that Max had bought for her would need no artificial drying, and she’d feel infinitely fresher wearing clean underwear tomorrow.
    When she opened the door into the bedroom, however, she discovered that, as well as checking on her well-being, Matt had also left a pile of clothes on the bed. Sara’s eyes widened in amazement when she discovered a cellophane-wrapped package of bikini briefs beneath what were obviously his chambray shirt and sweat pants. The shirt and sweat pants were freshly laundered, but it was obvious that the package containing the briefs hadn’t been opened. Where had they come from? she wondered. He hadn’t mentioned a girlfriend. But a man like him was bound to have women friends. Hadn’t he been speaking to one of them—Emma—earlier on?
    Still, the idea that he might have contacted one of his girlfriends for help didn’t sit well with her, and she caught her lower lip between her teeth as she turned the packet over in her hands. And discovered that the label indicated that they were suitable for a nine-to ten-year-old!
    Rosie! she thought incredulously, a gulp of laughter escaping her. They had obviously been bought for Rosie, but just as obviously they were too big for her. Ripping open the cellophane, Sara pulled them out and examined them more closely. Made of white cotton, they looked plain and practical, and, although they’d probably be a tight fit, she thought they’d do very well.
    A feeling of gratitude filled her, and with it a sense of shame at her own presumption. Matt was trying to help her; that was obvious. She had to stop believing that all men were like Max.They weren’t. He had been the exception. Was it evil to be glad he was finally out of her life?
    The briefs were barely decent, but Sara didn’t care. With Matt’s sweat pants bulking around her thighs, and the ends of his shirt tied at her waist, she looked anything but provocative. He’d also left a pair of sports socks, which she found worked equally well as slippers. After she’d rinsed out her own bra and panties, and hung them on the radiator in the bathroom to dry, all that was left for her to do was brush out her hair and plait it again. She was sitting at the dressing table, securing it