Blazing Obsession Read Online Free Page A

sharing my birthday. Then the lights dimmed and a huge cake with forty candles arrived on the table, accompanied by a chorus of
Happy Birthday.
Everybody clapped and cheered as I pretended to run out of breath blowing them out.
    As I sat down, Lynne said, “Well, that went down well. I didn’t know I was sitting next to
Mr Popular!”
    â€œI didn’t know myself until now.”
    The music started and I introduced her to Pat before I mingled with the other guests.
    The DJ played great disco hits of the ’80s and within a matter of minutes the dance floor heaved with a mass of bodies frantically gyrating under a dramatic light show.
    Towards the end of the evening, the DJ played slower schmaltzy records. I sought out Lynne and said, “Fancy a dance?”
    â€œWell, as it’s your birthday and you’re the boss, I don’t suppose I can refuse, can I?”
    Holding her in my arms with our cheeks brushing together, I couldn’t have been happier. And I didn’t care who knew it.
    During the last record of the evening, a dreamy number, I kissed her neck. It felt the most natural thing to do. She didn’t flinch.
    I’d knocked back the best part of a bottle of wine, which led me to feel confident enough to suggest she came back to my place. Previously when I got into these situations, I chickened out – my fear of rejection kicked in. But this felt right.
    Similarly intoxicated, she agreed.
    Around one o’clock, most of the guests had left. We put on our coats and merged into London’s still-hectic, crisp November evening.
    I hailed a taxi and, in the darkness of the cab, the only illumination coming from the neon lights of the city, I squeezed Lynne’s hand and got a squeeze back. I couldn’t resist attempting another kiss. Lynne pushed me away, looking in the driver’s mirror to see if he noticed.
    â€œLater! Be patient,” she giggled. I returned to hand squeezing, willing the cab to jump the red lights.
    As the lift zoomed up to the twenty-third floor of my apartment block, I couldn’t contain myself any longer. I threw myself at her and kissed her passionately on the lips. We didn’t release our clinch until the doors opened.
    As we entered the penthouse, I flicked on the light switch. I’d bought the apartment a couple of years previously and asked an interior designer friend to advise me on decor. I spared no expense. A fabulous blend of contemporary-style interiors, magnificent lighting and colour schemes made coming home after a hard day’s work a pleasure. The stunning night views over the Thames and Canary Wharf added to the effect.
    Lynne spun around taking it in. “Wow!” she said. “What a place! Like something out of
Ideal Home.”
    I caught her arm on the second spin and dragged her towards me, our lips colliding. Finally letting her go, I said, “Never mind the architecture. How about a night-cap?”
    â€œThink I’d better have a coffee. I’m starting to slur my words. Do you have any decaf?”
    â€œSure. Make yourself comfortable.” I waved at the oatmeal leather settee as I went into the kitchen. “Be two minutes.”
    As I topped up the percolator from the tap, she followed me into the kitchen and wrapped her arms around my midriff. I felt her head against my back.
    Putting the percolator down on the kitchen worktop, I turned, and taking her face in both my hands, I kissed her fully on the lips again.
    It was time…
    *
    â€œWould you like that coffee, now?” I’d already showered and thrown on a pair of boxer shorts and had a mug in each hand. Lynne laid half-asleep in my bed, partially covered by a sheet, a shapely leg dangling over the side.
    â€œThat’d be great.” She sat up, blinking, pulling the sheet around her body in embarrassment, holding it close with one hand. Given the intimacy we’d enjoyed all night it seemed incongruous. With her