A Stranger's Kiss

take away the feel of his lips on her skin, or the pain.
    She dressed in her pink pyjamas. She had always thought they were girlish, but he had said they were irresistible. She wondered what he would do if she went to his room right now.
    Resist like hell. He apparently found it easy.
    She crawled miserably into bed, but couldn’t sleep. She didn’t even try. She was still trying to decide what on earth she could do to straighten out the mess she had made when the mournful cry of the muezzin from a distant mosque, calling the faithful to prayer, heralded the dawn. The sky lightened in the east and it was time to rise and face the day, however painful it was likely to be.
    She pulled on a pair of trousers and a light sweater and ran downstairs. She would have liked to walk, hard and fast, or swim, do anything to burn off the nervous energy that had pumped through her veins all night. All she could do was walk around the garden where she felt caged, shut in.
    The man servant brought her a tray of tea and that made her feel a little better. Then she went into the office. Several faxes had arrived during the night and she sorted them and left them on Adam’s desk for his attention.
    She checked the diary. Pointless, unnecessary tasks. But there was still no sign of Adam and distanced from the routine of an office she had nothing to do.
    She ate breakfast alone. It should have been a relief, but it wasn’t. She considered going up to see if he was all right. He wasn’t the kind of man who lay in bed in the morning. Not by himself, anyway, she thought and then wished she hadn’t.
    The telephone rang finally, making her jump, but at least it was something to do.
    ‘Adam Blackmore’s office,’ she said, with a crispness she was far from feeling.
    ‘Is that Tara?’ The voice was that of a young woman, gentle, friendly.
    ‘This is Tara Lambert,’ she confirmed.
    ‘I’m so glad to speak to you. This is Jane Townsend. Adam’s—’
    ‘Yes, of course,’ she said, quickly. ‘I’m afraid Adam’s... not here at the moment.’
    ‘Friday morning, I should have guessed.’ The laughter was indulgent. ‘He always overdoes it at Hanna’s parties.’
    ‘Does he?’ Was that appalling hurt jealousy? Could she really be jealous that this woman knew how he behaved at parties? She closed her eyes in shame, sure that Jane would hear it in her voice.
    But apparently she hadn’t. ‘Watch out for that man, Tara, he’s a menace. But I expect Adam warned you.’ There was such unreserved charm that Tara found herself warming to the owner of the voice, despite every desire to hate her.
    ‘Yes, he warned me.’ She couldn’t say she hadn’t been warned. It was her own fault she hadn’t listened. ‘Can I give Adam a message?’ she asked, somewhat hesitantly.
    ‘Yes, tell him I hope his hangover is hell.’ She chuckled. ‘And tell him that the clinic have decided to deliver the baby on Monday by Caesarean section.’
    Her rush of sympathy was genuine enough. ‘I’m sorry. Are there problems?’
    ‘They’ve decided the placenta is in the wrong place. I’ve been in and out of hospital for the last few weeks. Not allowed to touch my feet to the ground. It’s been hell.’
    ‘I can imagine.’
    ‘Well it’ll soon be over. But I could do with some moral support, if he could manage to get back in time.’ Tara swallowed hard, furious that Jane even had to ask. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll get him back in time if he has to swim.’
    She shouted with laughter. ‘Priceless. I can’t wait to meet you, Tara.’
    Tara hung up and when she turned Adam was standing in the doorway wrapped only in a towelling bathrobe. He looked dreadful. Unshaven, and hung over. If she could have felt any joy at all, it would be in the fact that he felt considerably worse than she did, at least physically.
    He rubbed his chin with the palm of his hand and apparently did not much like the result. ‘Who was that on telephone?’
    ‘It was Jane.’ She gave him the message and he swore softly. ‘Timing never was her strong point. You’d better get us on the next flight out of here.’ Tara turned quickly away. How on earth could he be so unfeeling?
    ‘What about the meetings organised for tomorrow? Shall I cancel?’
    ‘No, leave it to me. Get me Rashid on the phone now. And don’t take no for an answer.’ His mouth tightened. ‘The one advantage of last night’s little fiasco is that he will agree to almost anything. All I have to