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further than getting her away from them.   He saw them pull her beautiful hair and manhandle her delicate body and an almost blinding rage had surged through him. He had wanted to rip the bastards’ heads off.
    How he had stopped himself from killing them there and then in that stinking corridor was something he wasn’t prepared to think about. Taking her to safety had been.
    He had n’t known quite what to do. Her friend had already left and he had no idea of where she lived. He had rummaged through her tiny evening bag but her credit card I.D. had no address so he had brought her back to his own house and put her in the spare room.
    He had struggled to take off her tightly fitting dress the night before. He didn’t think it really mattered if she slept in her dress, but the way it clung to her delicious curves looked very restricting and he assumed she would be more comfortable out of it. Then he worried that he may be stepping over a finely drawn line. 
    Was it acceptable to take off a lad y’s dress and manhandle her body without her knowing a thing about it? He felt as though he was no better than the pigs he had beaten. Alternatively, did it make him just voyeuristic? He still wasn’t quite sure.
    When he was eventually able to lift the dress over her head, trying not to get her mass of luxuriant hair tangled, he realized far too late that she wasn’t wearing a bra. He couldn’t believe how much the tightly fitting dress had concealed.
    Her breasts w ere high and tight and he had desperately wanted to touch them, feel their soft warmth in his hands and to have her moaning with pleasure as his fingers brought the tips to jutting points.
    The sweat had begun to bead on his fore head and he had quickly pulled one of his spare t-shirts over her head to cover her again.
    She had felt like a rag doll in his arms as he la y her on the bed, her hair once again falling all over the place. In the end, he had gathered the thick hank in his hand and twisted it all out of the way, swirling it over her shoulder. Looking at her beautiful form curled inside his t-shirt one more time, he covered her with the duvet and left the room.
    Daniel, his doctor and longtime best friend, arrived shortly afterwards, but after a brief examination of the sleeping woman he decided that there was no real emergency. The drugs would wear off soon enough. It was best just to let her sleep through it.
    Adam breathed a sigh of relief, his heart giving a strange jolt inside his chest when he realized that she was going to be fine. He went and sat in the chair in the chair for a long time, watching her sleep and listening to her soft, regular breathing, but as the sun came up, he went into his study to try and get some work done.
    It was impossible to concentrate, partly because he needed some sleep himself, but mostly because his mind constantly kept wandering to the woman in his spare bedroom. His t eam was not entirely happy when he eventually let them know that he wouldn’t be on site today. He shrugged disinterestedly. It wasn’t as though he often had time off and they could reach him at home quite easily.
    He sat in his comfortable office chair and attempted to get his head round some figures for the next project in Dubai but for once in his life, he couldn’t make sense of any of them or of the tower block drawings. He drank a couple of cups of black coffee hoping that they would clear his muddled head but it was hopeless.
    By midday he gave up even trying and wandered back to the bedroom. She was beginning to stir in her sleep and he thought he should make her some tea and try to find out if he could ring anyone. Her purse hadn’t contained many clues when he had looked the night before, but her phone had been more interesting. He immediately put her number into his blackberry and then rang “Cathy Work”.
    She seemed pleased to hear from him.
    He had been surprised and almost annoyed at how feisty Caroline had become about her little