LITMIR.BIZ

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was well aware that the Four Seasons was one of the most glamorous restaurants in the city.

      Just over half an hour later, Samantha was regarding herself anxiously in the huge mirror in the bathroom.

      Having only packed a few suitable clothes for what was, as far as she’d been aware, nothing more than a business trip, she could only thank her lucky stars that she had, at the last minute, tossed into her suitcase this little black dress. But was it too plain and boring?

      A very simple sheath of black silk crêpe, which had been a mainstay of her wardrobe for the past few years, it was hardly likely to set the world on fire! Even the single row of pearls, while emphasising her long, slim neck, couldn’t manage to make an inexpensive dress look a million dollars.

      Still. . . what the heck? There was absolutely no point in worrying too much about her ensemble, since there was virtually nothing she could do about it. And if Matt thought she didn’t look smart enough—well, that was just too bad.

      However, from Matt’s appreciative glance, as he ran his eyes over her slim figure and long, freshly washed blonde hair, falling in a pale stream of liquid gold down over her shoulders, he didn’t seem too disappointed as, at precisely seven-thirty, he ushered her through the front door of the hotel, and into his chauffeur-driven limousine.

      

      With its comfortable chairs and tables arranged around a glamorous marble pool, the restaurant was certainly living up to its reputation for being one of the ‘in’ places to eat in New York.

      But what no one had ever told her, Samantha thought, gazing around at the soft lighting, the shimmering silver beads over the windows and the discreet waiters gliding silently around the room, was just how very romantic it all was. But maybe that was because, for her, the whole evening was fast taking on an air of unreality and increasing enchantment.

      How could she have guessed that, despite the passage of so many years, both she and Matt would still seem to be on exactly the same wavelength, as if absolutely nothing had changed between them?

      But, of course, that couldn’t possibly be true. Not when they’d gone their different ways, for such a long time. Which meant that she was going to have to be very careful.

      The fact that they were both laughing at the same silly jokes, and actively enjoying snippets of business gossip about low doings in high places, didn’t really mean that much in the scheme of things. And if she was totally astounded to find that she still found him devastatingly attractive and—to be utterly frank—had difficulty suppressing an insane desire to throw herself into his arms, it was highly unlikely that he felt the same way.

      Unfortunately, she hadn’t a clue as to exactly what Matt was thinking. Cool, calm and utterly charming, he was clearly setting out to give her an enjoyable evening. But, even while relating how, as a young professor at Oxford, he’d been head-hunted by an American bank, intent on setting up an economic ‘think tank’ to look at future economic trends—before recently joining his present company as chairman and chief executive—he gave no sign of how he felt about her, or their past relationship.

      It was no wonder that their passionate affair had ended in tears, Samantha acknowledged with a heavy, inward sigh. Any romantic attachment between young students and their older professors had always been heavily frowned on by the university authorities. And now, with the aid of hindsight, she could see that Matt had undoubtedly acted quite correctly, both to protect his own academic position and also her future career.

      However, the fact that she’d been utterly devastated when he’d so abruptly and cruelly terminated their relationship didn’t seem to make any difference. He was still, for her, the most attractive man she’d ever known.

      Oh, Lord! Maybe it was the amount of wine which she’d consumed which was causing her to feel so incredibly weak and light-headed? Whatever the reason, she must... she really must pull herself together, Samantha told herself desperately, her fingers tightening convulsively around the stern of her delicate, crystal wine goblet as she struggled to clear her mind.

      Unfortunately, it was proving extremely difficult to do so. How could she hope to banish the increasingly erotic, sensual memories, when they were sitting so close to one another? She was only human, for heaven’s sake! Every slight movement of Matt’s tall figure—each accidental brush of his hand, or the lightest touch of his powerful thigh against her own—made it virtually impossible not to recall the hot, fiery excitement of their lovemaking, all those years ago.

      ‘OK, Sam.’ His voice broke into her distracted thoughts. ‘That’s quite enough about me. What have you been doing for the past nine years?’ Matt drawled with a quizzical gleam in his eyes.

      ‘Well...’ she began, taking a deep breath and frantically attempting to ignore the almost overpowering, rampant sex appeal of this highly disturbing man. ‘It’s been madly hectic, of course. I’m now managing the pension funds of several large companies, and—’

      ‘No, that’s not what I meant.’ He interrupted her with a quick, dismissive wave of his long, tanned fingers. ‘I’m far more interested in your private life. For instance, I noted that there was no mention of a husband on your CV...?’

      ‘Well...’ she murmured, before taking a long, slow sip of her wine, her brain racing swiftly into overdrive as she frantically tried to think of an answer to his question.

      How on earth, at this stage of the evening, could she possibly tell Matt the truth? He was bound to want to know what lay behind the break-up of her very brief, utterly disastrous marriage.

      Agreeing to wed the painter, Alan Gifford, while still madly in love with Matt, had to be absolutely the worst decision she’d ever taken. On the rebound from their passionate affair, and still suffering from the agony and torment of his brutal rejection, she clearly hadn’t been in her right mind. How else to explain the fact that she had known her marriage was doomed, even as she’d walked down the aisle? That her predominant impulse had been an infantile desire to show Matt that she didn’t care. That even if he didn’t want her, or still find her attractive, there were plenty of men out there who did.

      Oh, no... it was all far too embarrassing. She simply couldn’t face the shame of telling Matt what a fool she’d been. And definitely not here and now... in this glamorous restaurant. Surely the last place in which to relate such a miserably unhappy period in her life.

      Despite knowing that she might well come to bitterly regret not telling him the truth—and deliberately closing her mind to the small voice of sanity, predicting trouble in store—Samantha took a deep breath and shook her head.

      ‘No. . .I’m not married,’ she said, comforting herself with the thought that she was, in fact, speaking the absolute truth. ‘I’ve obviously had some serious boyfriends, of course, but...’

      ‘Well, yes... I should think so,’ he drawled smoothly, his deeply hooded green eyes sweeping over her lovely face and long, newly washed blonde hair. ‘Is there anyone important in your life at the moment?’

      ‘No. . .er. . .not really,’ she muttered, bitterly aware of her cheeks reddening as she tried to avoid his gaze. Swiftly deciding to turn the spotlight away from herself, she asked, ‘And what about you?’

      ‘I’m still single,’ he told her. ‘Although I’ve obviously had quite a few girlfriends over the past few years...’

      I just bet you have! Samantha thought grimly, ashamed to discover that she wasn’t immune from the acid green, needle-sharp pangs of sour jealousy. Which was absolutely crazy, considering both her own marriage and the fact that it was so long since she and Matt had seen one another.

      ‘And I have had a long-standing relationship with someone for the past three years.’

      ‘Oh, really?’ she murmured, doing her best to respond to his words with a warm, friendly smile. Quite determined—even if it killed her!—to appear happy to hear that he had a live-in lover, Samantha added brightly, ‘Maybe she ought to have joined us here for dinner tonight? In any case, you really must introduce

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