A Kiss To Remember

But it was desire, not love, which was ruling her at that moment. It seemed to be ruling Lance as well.

Their eyes clashed—his hooded, hers widening. For she could feel his stark arousal pressing into her silk-covered stomach. Yet it was her own raw and highly primitive response to that arousal which surprised her the most. God, but she wanted him. And she wanted him now!

‘Lance,’ she breathed shakily.

‘What?’ he bit out, pulling back from her a little.

‘I...I...’

‘So here you are!’ Bud broke in, his hand clamping on Lance’s shoulder and spinning him away from a flushed Angie. Luckily the room was dimly lit, with disco-style lights flashing. That, plus the many other dancing couples, precluded Bud noticing too much. Thank heavens.

‘I looked upstairs but couldn’t find either of you,’ Bud raved on heartily. ‘For a second there, I thought you’d run off together.’ Bud laughed, and so did Lance. Drily.

Privately Angie thought that her running off with Lance somewhere was a distinct possibility. Right now, she would do whatever he wanted.

It was a mortifying realisation, and one which brought her real personal pain. How could she possibly counsel other people on matters of life when her own could spin out of all control so quickly? She should have more will-power, more self-respect. Twenty-four years old and she was acting like an immature, hormone-filled teenager!

Angie would have been quite happy about being reduced to a state of mindless passion if Lance had cared about her.

But he didn’t.

At best, he was physically attracted to her. At worst, he was using her as a way of getting back at his wife. Either way his desire for her was a very casual and fleeting thing, to be indulged in this one night and forgotten in the morning.

Angie, however, would not forget it in the morning. She could see herself now—torn by remorse and regret, plunged into despair and self-disgust. Lance would go off on his merry way, leaving her again to die another thousand deaths in the wake of his empty charm and superficial sex-appeal.

But, oh...how his charm could charm—and how his sex appeal appealed ...

Even now, all she wanted was for Bud to get the hell out of here and let Lance take her in his arms once more.

Exasperation came to her rescue. If the man affects you physically like this, she lectured herself valiantly, then stay away from him, for goodness’ sake. Don’t look at him anymore. Don’t dance with him. Don’t go anywhere near him!

In fact, go home!

‘If you’ll excuse me,’ she said swiftly, before she could change her mind. ‘I... I have to go and see Loretta about something. You and Lance must have loads of things to talk about. I’ll catch up with you later, Lance.’

Angie fled without looking back, surging past various gyrating couples and heading straight for the cupboard under the stairs where she’d put her jacket and bag.

Retrieving them both, she draped the black jacket over her shoulders, then closed the cupboard door and hurried towards the front door, opening her handbag as she went. It was a largish black patent leather number, with a zipper running along the top and one roomy cavernous area inside, filled to the brim with all sorts of female paraphernalia. Make-up. Tissues. Perfume. A nail file. Nail clippers. Bobby-pins. Safety pins. Comb. A mirror.

Plus her car keys.

Somewhere...

Angie ground to a halt, swearing under her breath as she blindly rifled through the mess with her hand. She encountered everything but her keys.

God, but that was so typical! Whenever one wanted to find something desperately, one never could. Speed was of the essence too. Any moment, Loretta or Lance or Bud might appear, wondering what she was doing and where she was going. Her brother would be annoyed with her for leaving his party so early but she would survive his disapproval. She might not survive something else if she stayed.

‘Lord, where are those damned keys!’ she groaned aloud.

Frustrated, she raced over and tipped the entire contents out on to the hall console; the keys were the last thing to clatter on to the marble surface.

‘Looking for this?’

Angie gasped when Lance materialised to reach over her shoulder and pick up the condom Vanessa had mischievously dropped into her bag and which lay with garish clarity among her make-up and other possessions.