A Chance Encounter by Rae Shaw (best ereader for academics .TXT) 📕

Julianna’s face; a frown of disapproval on behalf of Hettie, but nothing, not even a shadow crossed her face. A true professional or an unconcerned individual?

Jackson continued. ‘Since Frances started work last month Hettie's health has improved considerably. The doctors had threatened her with a tonsillectomy. That scared her too.’

She had a strong dislike of blood, so an operation would be a frightening prospect.

The dynamics of Jackson's marriage were not up for further discussion and he moved off with Luke and Sophia in tow, leaving Julianna with Mark.

He would always crave for Hettie, but he had to accept he had no place in her life. Once his client, always the boss's wife, she wasn't his friend. She would never be his lover.

He needed a distraction. A lure. Somebody to guide him away from the unattainable. No love, no commitment. Just companionship. Sex. God, he missed sex.

Julianna hadn't moved. She was waiting. Unlike Hettie, Julianna wasn't stunning, although her blended ethnicity brought out the best of her attractiveness. She had wavy black hair that didn't quite hold its place when she tied it back. The rogue locks added to rather than subtracted from her appeal. Her plump, and kissable, lips were a little wide, her cheekbones lofty, a hint of flatness to her nose and her chin angular and masculine. Her chocolate eyes were astounding. Beautiful, no. Attractive, yes. When it came to romance, he wondered if she was as impartial as he was. During one previous meeting, she had slipped out a few remarks about her ex, whom she detested with a loathing that was impressive, while inferring things that made him wonder if she missed some aspects of her marriage. Mark had no point of reference. He had no plans to marry.

‘Still no replacement Mr Woodfall?’ he asked tentatively.

‘Nope. There isn’t going to be another Mr Woodfall. Learnt my lesson,’ she replied.

What had he to lose? Upset her and she would likely walk off. It wasn't as if their paths crossed regularly. He could live with the fallout.

‘But, I think you miss Mr Woodfall in other ways, don’t you?’ he said softly.

She shoulders stiffened and as her eyes widened, her firm chin hung a fraction lower. The stunned expression made her even more attractive. Was he as worthy, as agreeable in appearance? Mark was honest enough to admit he had flaws: he wished his hair was lighter, his skin smoother.

‘Possibly.’ She spoke through a small parting of her lips.

It wasn't a no. So he shifted closer, making sure nobody was in earshot.

‘That’s a yes, Julianna. Admit it.’

She blushed and dropped her eyes. Fancy that, he thought, she wasn't that battle hardened.

He leaned into her ear. ‘I’m not going to tell you what to do, but you weren't watching just her, were you?’

She snatched a rogue lock of hair and shoved it behind her ear. The silence answered him. No face slap, no stomping on his toes. She was a martial arts expert, something to which she had alluded when she described how she had thrown her husband out of the house, and she probably could make a humiliating point of it in front of the small gathering. But she hadn't. Her coyness had surprised him. She’d wanted him to ask.

Immediately there was a problem. ‘My apartment is some distance away. It's late, so perhaps—’

‘Mine isn’t. The divorce was generous in that respect; I got the house.’

They left in a taxi without exchanging a word. They both knew what they wanted. He should feel ashamed, but he didn't. Life was about grabbing opportunities. Each chance encounter of his life had led him to a different place. This was just another one.

  9

Julianna

Sitting by her side in the back of the cab, Mark had the decency to stay quiet. Turning to face him she slipped her hand across the seat and tangled her fingers through his and rested them on his lap.

‘I'm not afraid of us doing this,’ she said, softly. ‘This is what I want. I'm over Alex.’ Maybe she had just fibbed about Alex, but she wanted to make a point – she was with Mark and he could open up to her. He squeezed her hand in reply. He was remarkably calm, and slightly dopey from the alcohol.

The cab pulled over outside her mews house.

Shutting the front door, she kicked off her shoes. Mark copied her.

‘Nice house. Has character, not like my flat.’

So far he had only seen the outside of the terrace house and the narrow hallway with its tiled floor. Character didn't extend to dodgy plumbing and electrics.

‘It’s small.’ And pricey.

‘It’s a house. Allow yourself the honour of having two floors and stairs. I long for stairs.’ He swept his arm up. She didn't need a hint. No script was needed either. The hesitation was due to nerves. It had been nearly two years since Alex last touched her.

‘I have a cellar, too.’ She instantly regretted mentioning the cellar. ‘It’s dark…’

He stepped toward her. ‘We won’t go down there then, because I’d rather see you.’

Mark was clearly plucking chat up lines out from his readymade stash. She didn’t need them. Reaching up, she tugged on his bow-tie and pulled it apart.

‘I’ve always wanted to do that.’ She twisted the ribbon around her finger. ‘Wreck a bow-tie.’

‘Good job it’s not elasticated. Anything else you’d like to dismantle?’

She grinned. ‘Everything.’

‘Feel free, but maybe not here. Somewhere more comfortable?’ He raised his eyebrows.

Again, she held back, battling the doubts.

‘You haven’t done this in a while?’ he asked.

She shook her head. ‘No. Not since I left my husband.’ She had lost all interest in sex. Burdened by Alex's lack of remorse, she saw no purpose in acting like him and using sex as an excuse for