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a pedestal like he’s some sort of Greek god.”
    “You can handle that. You did with James.”
    “It was different with James.”
    “What? Why? The man was a hell of a lot more self-involved than Mark.”
    “James’s fame was specialized, Luce. Mark’s business is commercial, it appeals to everyone.
    He’s the hot thing right now as far as stage and screen is concerned whereas James was photographed for his skill on a bloody snowboard, the difference is huge.”
    “Fine. But I know you, Kate and if you want this, you can handle the press.”
    “Maybe I’ve had enough of that kind of life. I do not want the tabloids poking around me or my baby anymore. Mark Johnston is bad news all around.”
    “Uh-huh.”
    Kate rolled her eyes. “Now what?”
    “He’ll be back, so if I were you, I’d get in there first so you meet him on your terms.” Another phone rang in the background. “Oops, got to go, the nursery line’s ringing. I’ll see you at four.”

    Chapter 3
    Mark left Kate’s brand new and pretty fantastic looking salon and made his way down the bustling Friday morning High Street and into the center of town. He needed to find a way to get her to listen to him. His desire for her was ridiculous, he was man enough to admit that, but what mattered most to him was his need to tell her why he’d cut off contact with James.
    The thought of her hating him burned and stabbed at his soul--a soul he thought unaffected by such trivialities as love and emotion. Work had been his excitement, his pleasure, his adrenaline rush for the last five years. But now? Now, nothing mattered but speaking to Kate, getting her to listen to him. Having her at least like him, look at him with a softer expression in her emerald eyes, would sate some of the roaring frustration swirling inside of him like a burrowing tornado.
    Still as passionate and outspoken as she’d always been, yet there was a distinct wariness behind the veneer--an arms-length approach that hadn’t been between them before. Kate had always been so happy and carefree, so trusting and full of boundless curiosity. James’s death clearly devastated her, but Mark couldn’t help thinking there was more to her guardedness with him than his failure to keep in contact with his friend.
    He stared straight ahead, his brow creased in concentration and his hands balled into fists as they swung back and forth at his sides. With no idea where he was going or what he planned to do next, Mark drew in a long breath.
    When he’d walked into the salon and she’d emerged from a backroom and into the reception area, he’d nearly keeled over. Dressed in a dark green oriental-style tunic over crisp white trousers, with her hair twisted up in a spiky knot sort of thing at the top of her head - nothing sexy or particularly alluring about such a get-up…but on Kate? Mark grinned. She’d looked bloody fantastic--and sexy.
    Shaking his head, he strode purposefully down the street, his outwardly impression one of a successful man, fully in control of his future. Yet inside, the thoughts of a sex-mad youth resonated around his filthy mind like the bouncing balls of a pin-ball machine. Kate’s body had blossomed into a curvaceous figure of perfection Mark couldn’t erase from his mind. His own body reacted so vehemently to the remembered sensation of her skin beneath his fingertips, part of him was scared to pursue her any further.
    He shook his head. He didn’t have a choice.
    The perpetual feeling of betraying his friend hung over him ever since learning of James’s death--it had yet to lessen, and Mark doubted it ever would. But the panic soaring through his veins at the possibility of letting her go a second time nagged and clawed at his conscience. He wanted 20

    Rachel Brimble
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    to run his hands over every inch of her body, kiss her most intimate places until she screamed out his name in blatant sexual desire. He wanted to make her breakfast in the morning, dine in the