London's Eligible Bachelors: The Unlikely Mistress. Sharon Kendrick

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      Guy walked into the Kensington wine-bar where his friends had been congregating on Friday evenings for as long as he could remember, surveying the dimly lit and crowded room with an unenthusiastic eye. He asked himself why he had bothered to come out to fight his way to the bar for a glass of champagne when he could have drunk something colder and vastly superior at home. And maybe given Sabrina a glass, too.

      He shook his head. What the hell was he thinking of? He always went out on a Friday night!

      ‘Guy!’ called Tom Roberts, from the other side of the room, and Guy forced himself to smile in response as he wove his way through the crowded room.

      ‘It’s obviously been a bad day!’ joked his cousin, as Guy joined him.

      ‘On the contrary.’ Guy took the proffered glass of champagne and gave it a thoughtful sip. ‘I think I may have negotiated a deal on that old schoolhouse over by the river. It’s going to make someone a wonderful home.’

      ‘So why the long face?’ teased Tom.

      ‘I guess I’m just tired,’ said Guy, and that much was true. Sleep didn’t come easily when all you could think about was moon-pale flesh and banner-bright hair and a naked body in the room just along the corridor.

      Tom topped up his glass. ‘So how’s the new flatmate working out?’ he asked casually.

      Guy could recognise a leading question when he heard one. ‘Sabrina?’ he stalled, equally casually.

      Tom smiled. ‘Unless you’ve moved another one in.’

      ‘I must have needed my head examined!’ groaned Guy.

      ‘That bad, is it?’ Tom threw him a sympathetic glance. ‘She seemed sweet.’

      ‘Yeah, she is.’ Too damned sweet. Sweet as honey. That night in his bed—all clinging and sticky like honey. A honey trap, he thought with a sudden heat, and drained his glass in one. ‘Where’s Trudi tonight?’ he asked.

      ‘She’s on a sales conference in Brussels,’ explained Tom. ‘She’s not coming back until tomorrow.’

      Guy nodded. Good. Good. ‘Fancy going out for a meal in a while?’ he asked.

      ‘Oh!’ Tom started grinning. ‘Diversionary tactics to keep you out of the flat, you mean?’

      ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ Guy shrugged.

      ‘Oh, we’ve all been there, mate,’ said Tom obscurely. ‘There’s bound to be a woman sooner or later who gets underneath your skin. It’s about time it happened to you!’

      ‘Sorry.’ Guy’s voice was cool but firm. ‘You’ve lost me.’

      Tom put his glass down and narrowed his eyes. ‘And you still haven’t told me anything about Sabrina Cooper…’

      ‘What do you want to know?’

      ‘The obvious. Like, is she a friend, or is she a lover?’

      Guy opened his mouth and then shut it again. What was the point in trying to explain the whole bizarre situation, even to a man who had known him nearly all his life? Sabrina’s reputation wouldn’t emerge from it unscathed. And neither, he realised grimly, would his own.

      ‘We’re men, Tom,’ he said flippantly, ‘so we never talk about things like that, right?’