Bedded At His Convenience. Margaret Mayo

hadn’t. What would have been the point in causing a scene when their marriage was over? He had more dignity than that.

      Instead he had watched as they’d walked off, hand in hand.

      It was the hardest thing he’d ever done. Hurt had sliced into his heart as fiercely as if she’d stabbed him with a knife. And with hurt had come guilt. Maybe it was his fault? Maybe if he’d spent more time with her she wouldn’t have gone off with someone else? She wouldn’t have felt the need for male company.

      There had been so many maybes and so much heartache that his head had spun. For days he’d done nothing but blame himself, until finally he’d grown convinced that it was not all his fault. It took two to break up a marriage. Keisha was as much to blame as he was. She had lied about her platonic relationship. She had accused him of two-timing her. And yet she had been doing exactly the same thing.

      He had wondered how long her affair had been going on. He’d tried to pinpoint the time their marriage had started to go downhill. It certainly hadn’t been smooth going. They’d had many arguments about his long hours, and she’d become totally convinced he was seeing another woman. He’d tried to convince her that she was wrong, but clearly he’d failed. Perhaps she’d thought that what was good enough for the goose was good enough for the gander?

      Except that he’d never cheated on her. Which made her defection doubly hard to bear.

      Somehow he’d picked up the pieces of his life; working harder than ever, trying to forget her, not even letting her petition for a quick divorce disturb him. And he’d thought he had succeeded.

      But now, seeing her again, feeling her betrayal all over again, he knew that somehow—he didn’t know how yet—he wanted to hurt her as she had hurt him. He didn’t love her any more—how could he when she’d turned to another man? But he was determined that she would get her comeuppance. One way or another!

      ‘I have no intention of going away, Keisha,’ he said on a rough growl, trying to hide the anger that was building up inside him. ‘As a matter of fact I’d like to dance with you.’ The band had struck up and was playing a slow waltz, and without giving her time to refuse Hunter took her hand and pulled her on to the tiny square of polished floor.

      At first, as fierce memories lingered, he held her more tightly than perhaps he should have done. But gradually he relaxed, and so did Keisha, and as they swayed to the music, as he deliberately talked about anything except themselves, he discovered that she wasn’t entirely immune to him. Deep down inside something was still there.

      Not love; he doubted now whether she ever had loved him. Probably the glamour of marrying the boss had seduced her. But there was definitely something physical happening—it had been a big part of their relationship, a massive part.

      And it could work to his advantage!

      Keisha was disappointed with the way her body was behaving. How could she feel anything for Hunter after all this time? It didn’t make sense. When the music stopped she headed swiftly away from him.

      But not fast enough. Hunter caught her hand. ‘What’s the hurry? The evening’s only just beginning.’

      ‘Maybe for you, but not for me,’ she retorted, wrenching free. Gillian would get an earful; that was for sure. The last man in the world she had wanted to meet again was her ex husband.

      Their marriage had been a huge mistake. She’d been far too young and inexperienced for the likes of Hunter. In actual fact he had been married to his work, and for light relief he’d chosen far more sophisticated women than herself. She had come a sad second best. She had wished for the moon and got only the stars. And, although she’d now discovered that she still had feelings for him, she didn’t want to be caught in his trap again.

      Hunter, however, was totally unmoved; he was even smiling, though she observed that it didn’t quite reach his eyes. ‘Tell me—who is the good lady instrumental in us meeting again?’

      ‘It’s Gillian, actually. Do you remember her?’ asked Keisha. ‘But I wish she’d never persuaded me to come.’

      ‘That’s a pity,’ he said pleasantly. ‘I’m of the opposite opinion myself.’

      Keisha looked into his intense blue eyes. They were quite the most magnificent eyes she had ever seen on a man. They had been part of his attraction in the first place, long-lashed and beautifully shaped, eyes that had made her feel very special.

      And still could!

      Damn him!

      She looked around for Gillian, but her friend was nowhere in sight.

      ‘Are you saying that you are pleased to see me?’ she asked, looking frowningly up at him

      Hunter was tall, six feet four, while she was twelve inches shorter. She had loved the difference in their heights. Loved it when he’d picked her up and twirled her around. When he’d hugged her to him, resting his chin on her head.

      ‘Surprised and pleased,’ he answered. ‘I want to know what you’ve been doing this last three years.’ Suddenly his face darkened, and long, strong fingers gripped her upper arms. ‘Exactly what you’ve been doing.’

      Keisha felt sudden fear. This was a side of Hunter she’d not seen before. ‘Let me go,’ she protested. ‘What are you doing? You’re hurting me.’

      ‘I’m taking you somewhere quiet,’ he growled. ‘Where we can talk undisturbed.’

      His words were soft, but they were laced with steel, and Keisha felt a shiver of apprehension. If only Gillian were in sight she could rush over to her and insist they go home. But her friend had disappeared, and Keisha couldn’t help wondering whether she had seen her with Hunter and made a tactful exit.

      Gillian knew all about her divorce, of course; they had been friends for years. Gillian, however, thought Hunter was the bee’s knees, and couldn’t understand why Keisha would want to live without him. She had often urged her to get in touch and try to patch things up.

      But Keisha had been adamant that it wouldn’t work.

      With her elbow held in a vice-like grip, Hunter guided her through the laughing, talking crowd to a secluded corner. When he pushed her down onto a chair she looked mutinously into his face. ‘This is a complete waste of time,’ she declared.

      ‘I don’t think so.’ He took a couple of glasses of champagne from a hovering waiter and pushed one across a low table towards her.

      Keisha didn’t want the drink, but something made her pick it up and down the whole lot in one swallow.

      Hunter gave a satisfied little smile.

      In three years he had matured quite dramatically. His glossy black hair, which had been almost shoulder length, was now brutally short. It showed no sign of receding, but there were a few distinguishing grey hairs at his temples.

      He’d used to have twinkling eyes, but now they were serious. His thick level brows hadn’t changed, but his mouth no longer smiled in that mysterious way that had churned her insides. She had used to think that he looked like a dashing highwayman. Now he was a coolly contained businessman, very much in control of himself and all those around him.

      And why was she noticing all this when she didn’t even want to be here? Damn! He was too much under her skin; she had never really forgotten him, especially the exciting times they’d spent together in bed. She wondered whether there was any other man in this whole world who could stir her senses so gloriously.

      But marriage wasn’t just about sex. A couple needed to be friends and companions as well. And most importantly of all there needed to be trust. Which was something that had been sadly lacking in their relationship.

      ‘More champagne?’

      Keisha nodded, and Hunter hailed another waiter.

      ‘Do you like what you see?’

      She instantly averted