Intimate Betrayal by Linda Barlow Read Free Book Online Page B

plane lands, you’ll never see your
     seatmate again.
    But in this case, going first class all the way meant thatAnnie and Carlyle were staying at the same deluxe hotel. And when he heard that she had hopes of doing some touring in London,
     he told her that it was his favorite city in the world, and he offered—no, he’d insisted—on showing her around.
    Since they were both working during the week, they arranged to see the sights that weekend. They spent Saturday visiting Buckingham
     Palace, the houses of Parliament, the Tower of London, and the British Museum. Annie was impressed with Carlyle’s encyclopedic
     knowledge of British history. He even knew the city well enough to take her to several lovely little historic pubs and coffeehouses
     for occasional breaks from sightseeing.
    She felt the chemistry between them right from the start. But she’d been married for five years to a man she dearly loved,
     and it was a simple matter to convince herself that what she was feeling was just a silly kind of schoolgirl crush that the
     sophisticated Matt Carlyle was completely unaware of and absolutely immune to.
    She didn’t discover that he was not only aware but interested until Sunday afternoon, when they took a car trip to Stratford-upon-Avon,
     the birthplace of Shakespeare.
    Until then she had seen him only in the most trim and proper business suits, but for this excursion he wore jeans, a casual
     shirt, and running shoes. Somehow this brought him down to earth, making him seem less like a wealthy captain of the computer
     industry and more like an ordinary guy. He’d rented a small MG for the journey, dismissing the limousine and driver who had
     been chauffeuring them around the city. Being within its close confines as they drove through the English countryside created
     an almost electric sense of intimacy.
    The day had started out fine, and they’d explored both Shakespeare’s birthplace and Ann Hathaway’s antique thatched cottage
     under a fine August sun. But the weather had turned progressively gloomy, and when they’d emerged that evening from the theater
     where they had watched a stirring production of
Henry V,
they’d had to run back to the car in a downpour.
    They were both drenched to the skin and laughing when Carlyle stopped fumbling with the door latch and simply pulled her into
     his arms, pressed her back against the steaming wet car, and kissed her ravenously on the mouth. Before she could give it
     a moment’s thought, her arms had wrapped themselves around his shoulders, and she was entangling her tongue with his, matching
     his passion with her own.
    Somehow they’d managed to get into the car, where the irresistible magic of hungry male and receptive female continued. She
     felt heady with desire as his heat, his touch, his scent combined to assault her senses. She’d forgotten who she was, where
     she was, what she was doing. All that mattered was the jagged-lightning rush of passion driving its arrows deep into her soul.
    She’d thought often, later, that if they had been in the backseat of the limousine that they’d used for their touring of London,
     anything might have happened. But the rented MG was tiny, and there was a gear shift between them. Carlyle had finally broken
     off the embrace to whisper, “We passed a pub a couple of miles back. I’m sure they have a room, we can dry off and…”
    The reality of what they were doing had penetrated her at those words. She was a married woman—what was she
doing?
    “No,” she’d murmured. “No, please.”
    And he had held her in his arms and tried to convince her:
“Come with me. Don’t think about it. Just come.”
    “I can’t. Please, don’t ask me.”
    “You can. You’ve come this far. Some things are meant to be.”
    She had told him no. Finally and irrevocably.
    But she had never forgotten the way he had made her feel; not during the days when she had hated him and blamed him for the
     loss of Fabrications,