Try as she might she couldn’t recall Andrew removing her clothes and putting her to bed. He was rude and insufferable, but he’d saved her from a nasty fate. What was more, he’d seen her almost naked, which none of her boyfriends had. It was maddening to think that he might have looked at her with admiration, and she hadn’t known.

But as the waves of sleep came over her again, she began to dream. She was in a moving vehicle that stopped suddenly. The door beside her opened and she was pulled out so that she fell against a man who picked her up in his arms as easily as if she’d weighed nothing.

He was carrying her-there was the click of the front door, then the feel of climbing. It felt good to rest against him-safe and warm. Somehow her arm had found its way around his neck, her face was buried against him, and she could hear the soft thunder of his heartbeat.

They were in her room and she was being lowered gently onto the bed. His face swam in and out of her consciousness, lean, serious, the mobile features full of expression-if only she could read it.

But then the darkness obscured everything, and she was sinking down, down into deep sleep, leaving the dream and its mysteries for another time.

Her very first hangover was a grim experience, but by late afternoon she’d rejoined the human race. Soon Andrew would drop by to see how she was. Their eyes would meet, and each would see in the other’s the memory of last night.

She dressed plainly in trousers and top, and applied only the very slightest make-up. This elegant restraint would make him forget the juvenile who’d aroused his scorn. He would be intrigued. They would talk and he would discover that she had a brain and a personality as well as a beautiful shape. He would become her willing slave, and that would serve him right for dismissing her as a kid.

But it wasn’t Andrew who called. Only Johnny.

Rats!

‘Hallo, Johnny,’ she said, trying not to sound as disappointed as she felt.