Wife By Approval. Lee Wilkinson
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she was last in the bathroom, preferring to breakfast in her dressing gown even on a weekday.
But surely this was the weekend? Hadn’t it been Friday yesterday?
Friday the thirteenth and everything had gone wrong…
Like a tide carrying flotsam, the events of the day washed into her mind and for a moment or two she sorted dazedly through them until she found the one thing that mattered above all else.
She had met Richard Anders.
The recollection banished sleep and focused her attention. A moment later, memory filled in the details with a rush.
The car accident, the invitation to go home with him, the drive to Pemberley Square, his kiss in the study, dinner together, brandy in front of the fire…Then him carrying her upstairs after saying with a strange intonation in his voice, ‘So you see we’re all alone.’
He had taken her into her room, laid her on the bed and kissed her goodnight…
But she had a vague memory of wanting him to stay, of kissing him back and putting her arms around his neck…Her eyes flew open and she sat bolt upright.
She was briefly aware that the room was light, sunshine slanting in through a gap in the curtains, then, the sudden movement making her head spin, she groaned and, squeezing her eyes tightly shut, pressed her fingertips to her temples.
‘Headache?’ a male voice asked sympathetically.
She opened her eyes again to find Richard just emerging from the bathroom. His dark, attractively rumpled hair was still damp from the shower and he hadn’t a stitch on.
The sight of that beautifully toned male body with its muscular chest and lean hips, its trim waist and taut belly, made her heart lurch wildly and her stomach tighten.
Oh, but he was gorgeous. A superb male animal.
As she gaped at him speechlessly, he strolled over and, bending, kissed her lightly on the lips as if he had every right.
As if they were lovers.
Which, no doubt, they were, otherwise what was he doing in her room stark naked?
Transfixed by the thought, she froze.
When, sitting still as a statue, she failed to respond to his kiss, he looked at her appraisingly, trying to sum her up.
He knew what kind of woman she was and, though he was sure that she wanted him, she wasn’t acting as he would have expected. Most of the women he had known would have twined their arms around his neck and done their best to coax him back to bed.
But, instead of trying to look seductive, she looked positively embarrassed, as if she wasn’t used to sleeping around.
Had she reacted like those other women, he would have accepted the invitation. Even first thing in the morning and with a hangover, she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.
Her neck was long and slender, her breasts small and firm, with dusky-pink velvety nipples that he felt the urge to stroke with his tongue…
Realising that his eyes were fixed appreciatively on her breasts, in a panicky reflex action she jerked up the duvet to cover her nakedness.
A gleam of amusement in his eyes, he said, ‘I’ll get you something for that headache.’
As he turned and walked to the door, she caught her breath at the seductive back view of his tall, well-built figure.
His skin, with its golden all-over tan, was clear and glowed with health, his shoulders were broad, his buttocks firm, his long legs strong and straight. The line of his spine was elegant. Even the back of his neck, with the damp hair trying to curl a little into his nape, was sexy.
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