Bed of Lies by Paula Roe Page A

his waist. She’d bitten her lip to stop from leaning down and gently kissing away the massage oil.
    Beth heard the shower turn on…and an image swam into her mind of Luke naked, water running over his chest, abdomen…
    Stop it. Stop it now.
    With a grievous sigh, she stood and headed off to the kitchen, unsure and unsettled.
    Much later that night, after she’d eaten a quick chicken sandwich alone in the kitchen, Beth ran herself a bath and sank into the warm bubbles with a relieved groan.
    Behind her head, scented candles flickered on a small shelf, their reflection bouncing from the huge, gold-edged mirror opposite and ending in a subtle play of light on the water’s surface.
    The bathroom was her thinking space and she loved it best of all—from the high whitewashed ceiling, the Grecian tiles framing the doorway, the hanging green plants, to the skylight that showed off a clear starry night.
    It should have been a haven tonight. But escape was impossible. The house was still and quiet, but an underlying anticipation hung in the air, as if it was waiting to see what changes the newcomer would bring.
    Luke dwarfed her spare room, just as he was dwarfing her life, helping himself to a part of it as if she was an amicable participant. She took a deep breath, her lungs filling with steam and scent, and exhaled in a rush.
    Luke had to know how out of place he was here, how much he disrupted her sense of order. She’d told him straight what she wanted. Now she had to persuade. She’d show him she belonged here, that her stamp was firmly on this place, in every book, every cup, every comfy cushion. It was her task to convince him, so when he went back to work, he’d soon forget whatever attraction this place held and take her up on her offer.
    Peace and sanity would return. Even if it meant working long hours for the next twenty years to pay him off, she’d do it.
    Yet why did that give her such an unsatisfied feeling in the pit of her stomach? The cooling water washed over her breasts as she shifted in the tub. She shivered and quickly stood, then slowly stepped out.
    She had to do this. Getting hysterical or wishing the situation could be different wouldn’t change anything. At her mother’s funeral she’d made a solemn eighteen-year-old vow: never give in to the dark well of depression and self-doubt her mother had suffered, thanks in part to her father’s infidelities and mind games.
    Well, she wasn’t going to crumble, Beth decided as she padded into her bedroom. She stood strong and fought for what she wanted.
    It was just a matter of waiting it out.
    After she put on her pajamas and lay staring at the ceiling for ages, exhaustion that came with thinking too much finally claimed her.

Eight
    “H ey, Beth, can I catch a lift with you this morning?”
    Her store assistant, Laura, sounded flustered. Beth balanced the phone at her ear as she smeared peanut butter on her toast. “Car troubles again? Have you called the mechanic?”
    “Yeah. They won’t be here until after ten.”
    Beth watched Luke walk silently into the kitchen, clad in a pair of jeans and a black T-shirt. Memories of yesterday’s kiss came flooding back and with it, heat to parts of her body she didn’t want to think of him touching.
    “No problem. See you soon.” She hung up and poured a glass of juice. “Morning.”
    “Morning.” His all-seeing eyes swept over her, sending her pulse rocketing. “Sleep well?”
    “Yeah,” she lied. “You?”
    “Like a log for once. And I don’t have that nagging ache here.” He cupped the back of his neck.
    “I told you it’d work. Now all you need is a couple more days’ rest and you’ll be as good as new.”
    Luke helped himself to coffee, looking much too at-home as he leaned against her counter.
    “Going to work?” He nodded, taking in her business shirt, short skirt and flat sandals.
    “Yep.”
    “Is that wise?”
    A hell of a lot wiser than being cooped up here with you, no buffer