Trouble was, he craved her body in a way that made him selfish and unreasonable, and the only thing that eased the hunger was being inside her… but even that wasn't enough. He wanted her body, but he wanted a whole lot more, too. He wanted to hear her voice. He wanted to make her laugh. He wanted to demand she go home with him after work every day, and every morning he woke up hard with the anticipation of seeing her.

She was driving him crazy, and something had to give before he did or said something stupid.

He'd made her no promises and he'd told her no lies, yet he still didn't trust himself not to hurt her even more than her revolting husband had, and that was just about the worst feeling in the world. He needed to protect her, and the only way he could see to do that was by breaking his physical addiction.

He reached for his phone and scrolled down the names until he reached Tamara's.

Chapter Twenty- Seven

Sophie closed the file she'd been reading and looked up at her computer screen as the instant message window popped up.

'I'm leaving early this evening.'

She frowned at the monitor. Why hadn't he just stuck his head around the door to tell her that?

'Hot date?' she typed back, a smile on her lips.

She heard his fingers moving on his keyboard.

'Something like that.'

Her fingers stilled as more words appeared.

'An old friend.'

'Girlfriend?' She asked the question even though she knew she shouldn't.

The pause waiting for his response stretched on.

'Yes.'

His reply winded her, and she couldn't look up straight away when he stepped half inside the doorway and leaned on it a few seconds later.

"It's just dinner."

She tried to read more from his expression, but there was nothing there. He was a closed book.

She nodded, clearing her throat as she tried to smile to disguise how hurt she was.

She had no claim on him or his time, but the idea of him sharing dinner, or anything else, with another woman cut deep.

"Well... have a good evening."

His eyes scanned her face, and for a second he seemed as if he was going to say something more. He didn't though, and he left a couple of minutes later without coming back through to say goodnight.

If Sophie had hoped to find a message or note on his desk when she left a little while later, she was disappointed. It was swept clean of any traces of the day, much as Lucien seemed able to sweep any traces of Sophie out of his mind.

Was it as simple as that? Had he finally grown bored of sex with her, as he'd assured her all along that he would?

The idea filled her with cold dread. Had she really got him so wrong?

She sank down onto his chair, her coat buttoned up but her legs suddenly too weary to carry her home.

His desk was cool beneath her cheek when she laid her head down on it, too exhausted even to cry.

"Coffee?" Tamara asked, much later that evening.

Lucien nodded and followed her out of the Aston and up the steps to her front door.

It was freezing outside, but incredibly warm inside Tamara's tasteful lounge. He shrugged out of his jacket and sat at one end of the sofa. Tamara appeared a few moments later holding a brandy bottle rather than coffee cups.

"Plan B," she smiled, her dark hair in sophisticated waves over one shapely shoulder as she sat down next to him. He took the bottle from her fingers and reached for her waist instead.

She took her cue, sliding closer and winding her arms around him.

"It's good to see you, Lucien," she said. "It's been too long." She angled her head up to invite his kiss.

She was a beautiful woman, and he was a red-blooded man. He kissed her, noticing the synthetic taste of her lipstick and the heavy scent of her perfume. Desperation to feel more turned on had him probing her mouth hard and heavily, and Tamara reached for the side zip on her dress. She stood and let it fall, leaving her naked apart from a g-string and a small, suggestive smile.

"For you," she whispered, her hands lightly splayed at her sides to indicate that it was his move.

Her lean, athletic body could've graced any number of magazine covers, but as Lucien stood and drew her against him, he didn't feel any of the things he was supposed to feel. He wanted to want her. He wanted her small, pert breasts to feel good in his hands, and for the way her nipples hardened when he touched them to turn him on.

When she pulled his shirt out of his trousers, he sighed heavily and set her away from him gently.

"Stop."

She laughed and reached out to draw him back in, but he stepped away again more firmly this time.

"Tammy, stop." Lucien picked her dress up and handed it to her, feeling like a heel when she held it against her breasts to cover herself.

Her perfectly made up brown eyes surveyed him, cool and assessing.

"What's going on here, Lucien? You haven't called in months, and now you're here... and this?"

He swiped the back of his hand over his mouth. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have called you." He kissed her cheek, wishing he was somewhere else. "Sorry."

Tamara shrugged delicately. "I think we’d better call it a night."

Lucien left her there, rumpled but unravished. He wasn't accustomed to feeling guilty. The sensation made his skin crawl with distaste, and served only to strengthen his conviction that he absolutely must end this thing with Sophie right now, before it went any further.

After another sleepless night, Sophie found herself at her desk earlier than usual. It was just as well. It'd save her from needing to make banal, bright small talk as she passed by Lucien's desk when she was as mad as hell with him. Whatever there was between them, it deserved better than a cowardly brush off. She deserved better than this.

He'd hurt her, and she hadn't expected it of him.

Her body tensed at the sound of his door opening, his footfalls as he moved around setting himself up for the morning. She always made him coffee.

God, this was hard. Where was the line between employer and lover?

She was still his PA, even if someone else had replaced her in the other role.

And so she made him coffee.

He looked distinctly ill tempered when she took it through and placed it on his desk, and his thanks were muttered without looking up. His fingers hit the keys of his keyboard with unnecessary force, stabbing out emails.

So that was how it was going to be.

Not only was she unwelcome in his bed, but she was unwelcome anywhere near him.

Wow. When he turned off the spotlight of his charm and humour, being around him was suddenly a cold and very dark place.

Bitter resentment rushed through her body and her resolve hardened to armour. If the last few months had taught her anything, it was that she was no little mouse, and that loving someone who doesn't love you back was no way to spend your life.