She felt mellow, warm and very loved. This is how it would be when they were married, when she was the next Mrs Taylor. In the grey marble bathroom, Lauren took off her fluffy dressing-gown. When packing, she’d taken care to include some of Jude’s favourite underwear. It was a set he’d bought her from Agent Provocateur at Christmas – though being tied by family duties over the holiday period, it had been days before she’d been able to wear them for him.

Now they had hours stretching ahead of them. Maybe they could make love before going down for dinner. The thought thrilled through her. So she slid the underwear over her skin. Small, black lacy bra, French-cut briefs, a matching suspender belt and stockings. To complete the look, she stepped into her black-patent high heels. Obvious, but very effective.

Lauren had already ordered a bottle of champagne from room service and it was now chilling nicely in an ice-bucket. She decided against the dressing-gown. Let Jude find her just like this. He was an Alpha male – he’d like that.

She opened the champagne, poured herself a glass and reclined on the bed, striking a pose. Half an hour and another couple of glasses later, and Jude finally came through the door.

‘Sorry, I’ve been longer than I planned,’ he said. ‘My God, look at you.’ His eyes travelled over her. ‘You’re stunning.’

He threw down his briefcase and loosened his tie before coming over to the bed. His mouth found hers and he kissed her deeply. The now familiar bolt of electricity shot through her, but every time the power of it amazed her. She knew that Jude felt it too. Perhaps that’s what kept him coming back for more.

Lauren broke away from him. ‘Here.’ She poured him a glass of champagne.

‘Hmm. I need this,’ Jude said. ‘But not as much as I need you.’ He pulled down her bra, exposing her breasts, then he drank deeply from his champagne and covered her with his mouth. The chilled bubbles danced on her nipples and Lauren threw her head back, gasping.

Then Jude’s mobile rang.

‘Let it ring,’ she begged.

Her lover frowned. ‘Can’t,’ he said. ‘It’s home.’ The precaution of a married man with a mistress – a different ring tone for every aspect of his life.

Lauren flopped back on the bed and pulled her bra back into place.

‘Hi, darling,’ Jude said.

She wanted to block her ears.

‘He has? When was this? How is he? Let me speak to him.’ He turned to Lauren, his handsome face concerned, his hand covering his phone as he whispered, ‘Benjy’s come home from school feeling unwell.’

His voice softened as he spoke to his ten-year-old son. ‘Hi, Ben,’ he said. ‘Mummy said you’ve got a temperature. Did you go to the nurse at school?’