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has she done to me?
    The silent questions tolled in his brain as the chilly water poured down over his still-rampant flesh.
    Then, suddenly, he caught a glimpse of a possible answer, and it astonished him so much that he found himself leaning against the shower wall, rocked and laughing. His mind whirled and he looked down, half expecting the shock of it to have unmanned him.
    But he was still hard for her. Hard as iron. Harder than ever.
    Oh God, I’m in trouble. I really am in trouble.
    Returned to the condition of a teenage stud in thrall to the very first object of his hormone-addled sex drive, he took his cock in his hand and—summoning the image of Vicki’s face—he slowly began to stroke himself. Still smiling.

Chapter Three
    This is just what I need. A complete break, a bit of luxurious indulgence.
    Squashing down the last of her clothes into her suitcase, Vicki glanced at the clock, still unable to believe her luck. Apparently a limousine was due to collect her any moment and whisk her away for the weekend to the famous and desperately exclusive Ivory Pavilion Hotel.
    She’d only gone and won first prize in F. W. Shanley’s absurd staff sweepstake.
    Accustomed to being the sort of person who made her own luck and paid her own way, she’d been both shocked and pleased as punch on receiving the email announcing her win. The takeover of Wickham-Drake might have brought worry and uncertainty in its wake, both for her and her fellow employees, but at least here was a little bit of compensation for all the stress. She still couldn’t believe her good fortune.
    Well, it’ll certainly beat spending the weekend replaying what happened in the gym and obsessively trawling the internet in a vain attempt to find even the tiniest scrap of personal information about Red Webster.
    Not that she’d be able to stop thinking about him while she was away. That was impossible. Every moment of their time together was seared into her memory now, encoded on the hard disk of her brain. But at least there might be moments of respite, if the facilities and amenities of the Ivory Pavilion were as good as the glowing descriptions in the brochure.
    Oh, who was she kidding? No amount of horse-riding, rock-wall climbing, scuba diving, tennis or whatever was going to dislodge him from her imagination. As she reached for her jacket, she saw his face, pictured his smile…and felt his phantom touch against her bottom, between her legs.
    Red Webster, will I ever be free of you again?
    He’d been gone from the gym when she’d stuck her head around her door after she’d showered and dressed. Even after telling herself she never wanted to see him again and that she couldn’t face him, she’d still found herself seeking the source of her confusion. She simply couldn’t help herself, and instead of being relieved that he’d left the scene of the “crime,” her heart had plummeted when she’d found the room deserted, the equipment abandoned and forlorn.
    He’s a nuisance. He’s an arrogant manipulator and a dangerous flirt. How in God’s name could I let him touch me like that?
    How in God’s name could she have not let him touch her.
    Red Webster was a devious, unprincipled man who’d taken advantage of her moment of susceptibility, but in her heart of hearts, where personal truth reigned, she wouldn’t change a single second of what had happened between them. The simple fact was, she wished there had been a whole lot more of it.
    The sound of the doorbell broke into her reflection, and as she’d expected, it was the chauffeur of the complimentary limousine that was part of her luxury weekend.
    I won’t think about Red Webster. I’ll forget him, have a lovely time and maybe meet somebody new and exciting while I’m there.
    Feeling better and calmer, she snatched up her bags, locked up the flat and clattered down to the lobby. The chauffeur himself was easy on the eye. Lean, blond, boyish and not too tall. Just her usual type.