Sleeping Partners. HELEN BROOKS

it caught at her nerve endings making them tingle. ‘Cassie and Guy’s wedding I believe, so that’s all of twelve years in a couple of months time,’ he said easily.

      ‘Really? That long?’ How could Cass do this to her? Robyn was intensely, almost painfully, aware of the narrowed blue eyes taking in every detail of her appearance, but the expensive cream shot-silk chiffon dress and matching sandals, and the sparkling Cartier diamond studs in her ears which had been her twenty-first birthday present from her parents, more than stood up to the piercing scrunity. Which was a darn sight more than her legs felt able to do right at this moment!

      She knew her face was flushed—she had always blushed easily, it went with the red hair and creamy skin—but there was nothing she could do about that and perhaps he wouldn’t notice.

      Clay, on the other hand, was as cool and contained as she remembered, his handsome, finely chiselled face faintly smiling above the designer summer-weight suit and blue silk shirt and tie he was wearing, and the tall, lean body relaxed. She could have kicked him. Hard. Very hard.

      ‘I…I didn’t know you were going to be here tonight?’ As soon as she’d said it she realised it was a mistake. It suggested he was important enough to be mentioned in advance.

      ‘Didn’t I mention it?’ Cassie entered the conversation now from her vantage point of interested spectator, and her voice was suspiciously offhand. ‘I meant to give you a ring a couple of days ago, Robyn, but the twins are still playing up at night and with the way I am…’ She laid a hand over her rounded stomach in a silent plea for sympathy. ‘I’d forget my head if it wasn’t screwed on,’ she added with a winsome smile at Clay.

      Believe that, believe anything. Their conversation of six days ago was suddenly crystal clear in Robyn’s mind and she knew, she just knew, this was one of Cass’s ruses. Her sister had decided that Clay would be the perfect business associate and had acted accordingly. Cass never let the grass grow under her feet.

      ‘Jim got the opportunity to join Beryl at the conference—all expenses paid—so he rang us to explain, and it just so happened Clay was in town…’ Cassie’s voice dwindled away happily.

      ‘How fortuitous,’ Robyn said stolidly, her eyes holding her sister’s until Cassie had the grace to look slightly discomfited. But only slightly. Still, Cass had no idea of the true state of affairs between she and Clay, Robyn reminded herself silently. Perhaps she should have told her a little of what had transpired all those years ago to avoid just such a situation as this one. He was her partner for the evening. As disasters went, it was a biggie.

      ‘I’ll leave Clay to look after you, then. I just need to go and check a couple of things in the kitchen.’ Cassie managed to look faintly preoccupied as she drifted away although Robyn knew full well everything in the kitchen would be working like clockwork. Occasions like this were her sister’s forte and always went like a dream due to painstaking preparation and careful planning.

      ‘Let me get you a drink, Robyn. What would you like?’

      If she told him what she would like—namely for him to be transported somewhere, anywhere, but here—it would be the death knell on poor Guy’s birthday celebration. She could feel that her cheeks had cooled a little and she hoped her voice was several degrees below its normal warm tone when she said, ‘A glass of white wine would be lovely, thank you.’

      How had she allowed herself to be manoeuvred into such a truly horrific situation? As she watched Clay cross the room to the large circular marble table where all the drinks had been laid out for everyone to help themselves, Robyn’s thoughts were racing. She was stupid. No, no not stupid, she corrected in the next moment. Too trusting. But then that implied that Cass meant her harm and she knew that was untrue. Whatever Cass had done she had done it with the very best of intentions.

      Robyn’s lips twitched ruefully. Cass was the epitome of the happily married housewife, blissfully content with Guy and the twins and over the moon at the prospect of a third child. The fact that Guy had the sort of job which meant his wife didn’t have to work unless she wanted to suited her sister down to the ground. Cass was utterly domesticated; she even made her own bread on occasion and grew raspberries and strawberries, along with her own vegetables, in the garden, claiming she wanted her family to eat produce she knew was safe and wholesome. Their mother had often said Cass should have been born in the middle of the country—she’d have made a wonderful farmer’s wife.

      But… Robyn’s eyes narrowed on Clay’s tall frame as he poured the wine. Her sister’s habit of viewing the world through rose-coloured spectacles had distinct disadvantages to those around her at times, and never more so than now.

      And then Clay straightened and turned and looked straight at her before she could blank her face, and she knew, when she saw the hard firm mouth twitch slightly, that he was well aware of her dislike and, worse, that it didn’t bother him an iota.

      ‘One glass of white wine.’ His gravelly voice was very even and quiet as he handed her the drink on reaching her side, and Robyn forced hers into like mode as she answered, ‘Thank you, Clay,’ making sure her hand didn’t inadvertently touch his.

      ‘It is chilled.’ The devastating eyes held hers with no effort. ‘Although that’s barely relevant in your case.’

      ‘I’m sorry?’ She raised her chin a fraction.

      ‘You’re frosty enough to take the wine down a good few degrees all by yourself,’ he said pleasantly.

      She stared at him, shocked by the suddenness and speed of the confrontation which—for one stunned moment—had robbed her of all coherent thought. And then she raised her small chin further in an angry movement which wasn’t lost on the tall figure in front of her, and said, her voice crisp and steady, ‘That’s very rude, Mr Lincoln, considering we haven’t met in years and I barely know you.’

      “‘Mr Lincoln” is going to go down like a lead balloon during the social repartee an occasion like this merits, and although we might not have met in years I’d say we know each other fairly well, all things considered,’ he returned smoothly.

      ‘Really?’ Robyn could feel her face burning.

      ‘Yes, really.’ He smiled, his voice silky. ‘I think you were about twelve years’ old when Guy first introduced me to your family, so I’d say the next three or four years count as a pretty good “knowing” period, wouldn’t you?’

      She was saved the effort of searching for an adequately scathing reply by one of the other couples who joined them at that precise moment, but as she made small talk and joined in the laughter and social niceties she was furious to find she couldn’t ignore Clay as she wanted to.

      The last years had evaporated as though they’d never been and she was like a sixteen-year-old schoolgirl again, conscious of his every movement, the low husky quality of his voice, the sheer physical appeal of him. The suit he was wearing couldn’t even begin to disguise the unequivocally tough and hard male body inside it, and his closeness was playing havoc with her senses. Which was as ridiculous as it was humiliating.

      There were at least eight other people in the room besides Clay and herself, but it was his warm male scent surrounding her, his voice that made her pulse race, his body that she was painfully and rawly aware of. She could feel the attraction so strongly she wouldn’t have been surprised if the air had begun to crackle, but Clay seemed quietly relaxed and at ease as he chatted at her side to the other couple.

      Mind you, there was no reason for him to be otherwise, she reminded herself tartly as she smiled and nodded at the woman opposite her who was regaling them with the latest achievement of the wonder child she had given birth to a few months previously.

      She couldn’t bring herself to believe he had forgotten the events of that awful evening twelve years ago—much as she would like to—but the whole thing obviously had meant absolutely nothing to him. If she had stayed in his memory at all, which she seriously doubted, it would have been as a ridiculous little girl who had overstepped the mark and in doing so had embarrassed them both. If