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stirred lust in him: no nakedness; no flirtation. Hell, they were just discussing business.
    But lust was very much in control of Jack’s body at that moment. And his mind. Effortlessly, it stripped Vivienne of her clothes until she was naked before him, the mental image of her sitting there in the nude bringing his arousal to an almost painful level.
    God in heaven, he thought frustratedly, what on earth am I going to do now ?
    Absolutely nothing, he decided ruefully. Because there was nothing he could do. To make a play for Vivienne in her present emotionally charged and highly vulnerable state was both unconscionable and extremely unlikely to be productive.
    But what of later? he wondered. The job he’d asked her to do would take weeks. No, probably months. Could he wait that long before making his move? Probably not, if the bulge in his jeans was anything to go by. Hopefully, it wasn’t Vivienne herself sparking all this urgent desire, but his long stint of celibacy.
    ‘But why do you want me?’ Vivienne persisted.
    Jack hoped his face didn’t betray the thoughts which immediately ran through his head. Because they had nothing to do with work.
    ‘Why? Because you’re seriously good,’ he replied, all the while wishing that she wasn’t. At this moment, he wished she were seriously bad. The Courtney Ellison type of bad. If that were the case, the possibilities were endless.
    The waiter arrived fortuitously at that moment, sweeping away their plates and asking them if they wanted dessert. Vivienne declined. So did Jack, briskly ordering them coffee instead. By the time they were alone again, he’d managed to stop the X-rated images bombarding his brain, his conscience castigating him at the same time for reducing a nice girl like Vivienne to little more than a sex object.
    Vivienne was seriously glad that the waiter arrived when he did, stopping her from making a fool of herself by asking more stupid questions as to why Jack wanted her specifically for the job. What had she been expecting him to say, for pity’s sake? She already knew that he liked her work. He’d said so on many occasions. Had she been looking for more praise? More ego-stroking? Or something else—something which she hardly dared admit, even to herself...
    When another embarrassing wave of sexual heat started flowing through Vivienne’s body, she stood up so abruptly that her chair almost tipped over backwards. She grabbed it just in time, throwing Jack a weak smile as she excused herself and headed for the rest room.
    It was a flushed and confused Vivienne who leant on the washstand and stared into the wall mirror above the twin basins. Lord, what was happening to her here? First, she’d entertained kinky fantasies involving Jack’s fingers, then she’d started hoping he’d say he wanted her and her only for the job because he wanted her . Which was even crazier, considering any female with a brain in her head knew when a man fancied her. And Jack didn’t. Never had. The same way she’d never fancied him. Until today, that was. Suddenly, she seemed to be finding him extremely attractive. No, not just attractive—sexy. Dead sexy.
    The logical part of Vivienne’s mind told her this definitely had something to do with Daryl leaving her. His desertion had unhinged her and she’d become desperate. Desperate for someone, if not to love her, than at least to want her. Women sometimes did stupid things after being dumped. A girlfriend of hers had once cut her hair very short and bleached it white. Another had gone out and had a boob job. A third had slept with a different man every night for a month. You didn’t reach the age of twenty-seven without having witnessed a few of your female friends lose the plot over men.
    Vivienne had no intention of cutting her hair. Or of going blonde. Or having a boob job. Neither was she about to cruise bars every night in search of one-night stands. But she was awfully tempted—awfully, awfully