So that was the excuse he’d made? Megan smiled, albeit a bit grimly, but hope twitched again in her heart. He’d called to her for help. He hadn’t just gone off with Cynthia.

She put the phone down and stared at it. Best of all, he had sounded really relieved when she agreed to join them. ‘Oh, damn!’ she said aloud. ‘I don’t know what to think any more!’

She kicked a stray cushion out of her way and dived for the wardrobe, choosing a sexy little black dress that had rather embarrassed her when Ben chose it in Singapore. She left her hair loose in a cloud and contented herself with the merest lick of make-up, but sprayed herself liberally with his favourite perfume.

She was unaware of how magnificent she looked, with her eyes still sparkling with anger and her cheeks softly flushed, but Ben noticed at least three men turn to watch her as she walked across the foyer to join them.

He also noticed the annoyance on Cynthia’s face as Megan leaned across to kiss his cheek and whisper something in his ear, before pulling up a chair as close to him as she could get and saying casually, ‘Hi, Cynthia!’

The meal was studded with innuendo, spiced with malice, but Megan gave as good as she got. Ben watched her in both admiration and amusement. Later, when she began making noises about it being late, he stood up immediately and they left Cynthia sitting sulking on her own in the foyer bar.

‘Don’t forget we’re making an early start,’ he called back over his shoulder.

Well, thought Megan, triumphantly as they walked across the foyer, that went better than I’d expected. I hope Cynthia is so tiddly that she falls over when she tries to go up to her own room, and is too ill to come with us tomorrow. This image made her feel quite cheerful.

‘Thanks for coming down,’ Ben said as they got ready for bed.

‘You sounded a bit desperate when you phoned.’

‘I was. I really didn’t fancy a tête-à-tête with Cynthia. Not after a long, tiring day in her company.’

In the darkness Megan smiled. Things were looking up. When he reached for her, she turned to him happily, revelling in his masculine hardness, his oh-so-clever fingers and soon riding with him down a white water trail of sheer ecstasy.

‘It doesn’t come much better than that,’ he gasped afterwards.

But somehow, that remark spoiled her mood. Skilful techniques were no substitute for tenderness, well, not in her book. And the fact that he’d called her ‘Darling’ only for Cynthia’s benefit still rankled.