After the Affair(2)

Her heart pounded even faster. Somehow the knowledge that she was acting crazily made no difference. She could not seem to help herself. She wanted that painting!

'Twenty-five!' snapped the man whom she had overbid.

Cassie gritted her teeth. 'Twenty-six.'

There was an electric silence. Cassie held her breath.

'Twenty-seven,' the other bidder gruffed.

Cassie breathed in deeply, trying to calm her growing tension. Should she bid twenty-eight, or leap to three thousand? Which would be the better tactic? Her chest felt as if a vice were squeezing it.

"Three thousand,' she blurted out. And held her breath.

'Thirty-five hundred.'

Disappointment knifed through Cassie, and her chest sagged. She could not go on. She really couldn't. Three thousand had to be her limit.

'It's against you, madam,' the auctioneer said.

She could feel expectant eyes upon her. But she slowly shook her head, her eyes dropping to the floor. She could no longer bear to look at the painting.

'Five thousand dollars!'

A murmur swept through the crowd at the astonishing new bid. Cassie's head snapped round. She knew that voice! Her eyes clawed through the sea of faces. It couldn't be him. It couldn't...

There was no reason why he should be here. No reason at all...

And then she saw him, standing near one of the back windows, looking as devastating as ever.

Dan McKay.

His black eyes locked fiercely on to hers, and a stab of pure pain sliced through Cassie. She jerked her head round to face the front, shaken to the core of her being.

'Going once, twice... Sold!'

Cassie jumped when the gavel banged down. Then she sat. At first frozen, then suddenly trembling. If someone had asked her before this moment what was left of her feelings for Dan McKay she would have said nothing. Nothing! She would have sworn that he could not move a single emotion in her.

But she had been wrong. Something dark and destructive, something unexpected and shocking, had stirred inside her. It spun her head back to seek him out again.

He was moving towards the front of the room, his gaze never leaving hers. But his eyes were guarded, making it impossible to tell what he was thinking. Cassie's mouth grew dry as she watched him approach. He was so handsome still, each line of his -strong, angular face and tall, lean body achingly familiar.

Yet there were differences, Cassie conceded ruefully. The unruly black waves of nine years ago had been cut short and, while the well-groomed style complemented his dark suit and white shirt, he was a far cry from the informal, bejeaned Dan whom Cassie had once known. This man was smooth and suave and sophisticated, the epitome of city elegance.

Dan was watching her as well, waiting perhaps for a visible reaction to his shock return. When she gave none, sitting silent and staring, he smiled, his straight black eyebrows lifting enquiringly.

Again it sliced through her, sharper now and more definite, tightening her stomach, setting her teeth hard in her jaw. Hatred! Pure and utter hatred!

The feeling was so shockingly intense that she must have projected it in her eyes, for the smile was instantly wiped from his face, his expression changing to one of puzzlement.

A wave of fierce resentment swept through Cassie at his lack of sensitivity. Who did he think he was, coming back here, smiling at her as if everything had been forgiven and forgotten? Nothing was forgiven! Nothing was forgotten!

No doubt his return had something to do with buying back his painting. Nothing else would have brought him back, she decided cynically. And no doubt he would be gone again at the end of the auction.

Meanwhile...

Cassie gritted her teeth and looked up. He was talking to the auctioneer's assistant, yet glancing impatiently her way. A jolt of sudden panic set her heart racing. Jason! Oh, God, she had forgotten about Jason!

Her mind whirled. It was imperative that Dan didn't accidentally find out about the boy during his visit. Imperative! Instinct told Cassie that Dan was not a man who would ignore a son, even if the mother meant nothing to him any longer.

Cassie knew that she had to get out of this room, away from him. To meet him and talk to him—however briefly—was a risk she wasn't prepared to take.

She should have left without looking back. She should have just stood up and walked away. But something—female curiosity, perhaps—drew her to one final glance.

It was a mistake. He was staring at her over the man's shoulder, and when their eyes met he held hers easily. They had always been her undoing. His eyes. They were like molten ebony, their deep-set, penetrating scrutiny searing its way into her soul, evoking long-buried memories from deep inside.

She tried to look away, but could not.

She was transfixed, hypnotised. Her heart began to pound and, as his gaze went deeper and deeper, Cassie's mind plunged her back...back...till she was lying on the rug on the studio floor, gazing passionately up at him. He was standing over her, proud and virile, his eyes devouring her, arousing her, teasing her, till she could bear it no longer. She held her arms out to him, and as he knelt down she reached out, gathering his naked body to hers with a sighing, tormented groan.