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'A better salary?' I suggested, but his estimation of my business warmed me. Marianne's crack about my 'close,
 
, personal employees' had shaken me more than I cared to admit.

Tm thinking of my future,' he said. 'You'll make me a partner a hell of a lot sooner than the lawyers will, and once Mostly Romance opens a few more branches, a partnership with you will really be worth something.'

I could feel my eyes bulge. He must have known how presumptuous he sounded because he wouldn't look at me. Instead, he focused his attention on the furled red tips of my breasts. They shone with cream as he plucked them. I found the sight a bit distracting myself, so much so that I could not formulate a diplomatic answer. Sean had such
labourer's
hands. Their callused strength lent a piquancy to his gentle manipulations.

'I've been reading up,' he continued, as calmly as if he were discussing the weather. 'Romance is big business. I wouldn't be surprised if MR Enterprises went national one day.'

Finally, I found my tongue. ' "MR Enterprises"? Sean, aren't you jumping the gun here?'

Satisfied with his handiwork, he dropped a kiss to one lengthened nipple. His golden lashes rose. He was smirking. I don't know why. I was reasonably certain I hadn't accepted his proposal.

'I'm not jumping the gun,' he said. 'I'm only jumping ahead of you. But I know you, Kate. You're too proud of what you've accomplished to rest on your laurels - and too smart.'

'Now I understand why no one says "no" to you. You're a bulldozer.'

'I'm a
Halloran
,' he corrected. '
Hallorans
think big. Now let's hit the hay, Miss Kate. I've got you all to myself and I don't want to waste the opportunity.'

He didn't waste it, either. He took me vaginally first, a surprisingly intense quickie - to warm me up, he said. Then he positioned me face down with a pillow bolstering my hips and took me anally. If I'd ever doubted, I knew then that this was his
favourite
way to fuck. The way he lingered over every thrust betrayed him, the way he caressed my bottom and sighed and quaked and came like a man with a thousand volts running through his cock.

"Thanks,’ he said when it was over and we lay spooned together in the big bed. He sounded more grateful than I thought he should. I rubbed the arm he'd draped around my waist.

'I like it that way, too, you know.'

He nuzzled the back of my neck. 'Good. 'Cause I'd hate to think you weren't enjoying it as much as I was.'

I smiled at this rare evidence of self-doubt. 'I'm not sure anyone could enjoy anal sex as much as you, Sean. But I suspect I come close.'

'Bitch,’ he said, and playfully nipped my shoulder.

We fell asleep without once mentioning Joe, or the turn in the road he was even then poised to negotiate.

We didn't expect Joe until the next evening.

Without much effort, Sean convinced me to play truant from work and we spent the day alternately cooking and making love and napping. Considering our priorities, we kept the blinds closed and our clothes off. After a lunch of crisp potato pancakes - good energy food, Sean insisted - he slung me over his shoulder, fireman style, and carried me down the basement steps.

Time to do the laundry,' he sang out. When I pro-1 tested at being dangled upside down that way, he gave my bottom a sharp smack.

Luckily, my stomach had recovered by the time he bent me over the front of the rumbling dryer. 'Oh,’ I said, because the vibration zinged straight from my 1 nipples to my groin. 'Oh, yeah,’ Sean agreed.

His thumbs parted my cheeks, baring me to view and tickling the fine, sensitive hairs around my anus. The light touch made me shiver, made the strong ring of muscle pucker and pull in. Sean sucked in a breath at
 
j my reaction. Was he wondering how that contraction
 
\ would feel around his shaft? He shuffled closer and bent his knees until his erection nestled up against my
mons
.
 
I could tell how excited he was. The turgid flesh jerked with impatience, eager to find a home.

I reached back to pat his hip, but Sean didn't want
  
, that sort of comfort. As if he couldn't wait another minute, he nudged my vulva with the full, round knob of his cock, then dipped inside. He sank deep, then withdrew and thrust again. Despite this activity, I felt a restlessness in him. His knees jiggled behind mine. His breath came in fits and starts.

He wasn't paying attention to me yet. This penetration, deep as it was, was merely preparation. When he'd wet the head and shaft sufficiently, he shifted back to his true target.

'May I?' he asked. Longing thickened his voice.

His politeness surprised me. But perhaps he thought two times in two days was more than the average woman would welcome. He needn't have worried. Even if I hadn't been game, seeing how turned on he got was worth the price of admission - so to speak.

'Please do,’ I urged, equally polite.

With a luxuriant sigh, he eased inside. Yet again, I
marvelled
at the intensity of sensation as he filled me -over-filled me, rather. His cock stretched me to my limits, but agreeably so. I wriggled my front against the vibrating dryer and my backside against his velvety groin. He kissed my neck as my inner resistance melted and he slid inside that last delightful inch.

‘I love this,’ he crooned. His fingers burrowed through the auburn triangle between my legs, searching out my throbbing bud. 'You have the sweetest, tightest
arse
.'

I didn't have the breath to respond because he'd found my hooded jewel and was rubbing it back against my pubis with his thumb. His cock began to thrust - slow, shallow strokes that seemed to multiply every nerve transmission by a power of ten.

'Oh, God, Sean,’ I said. 'Keep doing that. That's heaven.'

'What about this?' He eased two fingers into my vagina. Bending them slightly, his knuckles stroked the rear wall of my sheath. 'Is this good, too?'

I moaned my approval. He increased the pressure. His cock jerked inside me and a light went on above my head.

'Can you feel that?' I whispered. 'Are you stroking yourself, too?'

'Yes,’ he admitted, and we both shuddered.

'Go slowly,’1 said. 'Go as slowly as you can,’

'Yes,’ he agreed, and then neither of us had the power to communicate beyond groans and wriggles of ecstasy.

We were wrapped in each other, in our aching, lazy climb to climax. We didn't hear the door open. We didn't hear him call out. We didn't hear the footsteps on the stairs. We didn't know Joe was home until he opened the door and spoke.

'Hey, guys, doing laundry? Oh -' He caught his breath with a funny gasp. 'Sorry, I didn't mean to - I'll
waiif
upstairs.'

I tried to turn, but Sean's weight held me in place. He spoke before I could. 'Thanks, buddy,’ he said, his voice
froggy
with lust. 'Give us half an hour.'

'Half an - Oh, sure. I'll just - I'll see you later.'

The door to the laundry room closed behind him. This time, I did hear his steps, faltering and heavy, as he trudged back upstairs.

'We should go up,’ I said, then groaned. My body wanted to stay exactly where it was, especially when Sean resumed his shallow, maddening thrusts. 'We should find out what happened in
New York
.'

He drew his tongue up my nape. 'It'll keep. Anyway, he'll survive the boot being on the other foot for once.'

Did that mean Sean was jealous of Joe's closeness to me? Or of my closeness to Joe?

'I don't want to hurt him,’ I felt compelled to say.

He pushed forward again, steady, unhurried. My traitorous body quivered with pleasure. I wanted to be here, with him. I wanted his tender, forceful presence in my bowels. My buttocks arched higher, seemingly by themselves. Sean slipped deeper. At the sound of his ravenous groan, my sex rained honey on his fingers. His soft laugh of triumph burnt the shell of my ear. Trust me, Kate,’ he said. 'It's already too late not to hurt him.'

Joe was polishing off the remains of our lunch when we emerged from the basement twenty minutes later, hastily robed and sporting a glow no amount of
towelling
off could dim.

He looked up from his plate, but not long enough to meet our eyes.

The amount of sour cream he'd heaped on the potato latkes made me wince.

Sean headed straight for the fridge, removed a bottle of Evian water and chugged half of it down. If he'd spoken, he couldn't have said more eloquently that fucking was thirsty work.

He offered me the bottle, but I refused with a tiny shake of my head. Instead, I walked to Joe, kissed his cheek and laid my hand on his back. The knots of tension in his shoulders were impossible to miss. 'Welcome home,’ I said.

He answered me with a grunt and forked another bite of potato pancake into his mouth.

Well, hell. I steeled myself to face a long sulk. I might feel guilty but, in strict point of fact, I hadn't done anything wrong. He wasn't going to con me into feeling responsible for his bad mood - the way my ex used to do. I let my hand fall from his back.

Joe caught it before I could step away. 'Sorry,’ he said, and now he did meet my eyes. 'You took me by surprise. I was all excited to tell you what happened and then -' He made a sheepish face.

'So what happened?' Sean asked. He leant back against the sink, working on the second half of the Evian
litre
.

'I've got an agent.'

"That's great,’ Sean said. 'We should celebrate.'

'Are you sure he's on the level?' I asked, wishing I'd told him the whole truth about Marianne and Desmond
Gerrard
, rather than merely warning him to be careful. 'Did you sign a contract? Did you get referrals from his other clients?'

Joe looked at me as if I were two years old and had just said a dirty word.

'No, I haven't signed a contract yet. I brought one home to read and I'm going to have my brother the lawyer go over it. I have a list of clients to call this week, and for your information, this isn't the only agent I met while I was there. This is just the one I liked best. And yes -' he forestalled my next question by poking his fork in my direction '-he is a friend of Desmond
Gerrard
, whom I gather you don't trust, though I don't know why. That's okay, though, because - from what I can tell - no one in show business is a hundred per cent trustworthy.'

'Oh.' I curled and uncurled my bare toes, feeling two inches tall. 'Well, as long as you're being careful.'

'I am being careful,' Joe said. 'I'm not some wide-eyed kid, you know.'

'I know,’ I lied, because that was exactly how I saw him.

'So when are you
gonna
move?' Sean asked. His tone was casual, but he was picking the label off the water bottle.

'I haven't decided.' Joe squeezed my cold hand. He smiled at me as though he knew a secret, and I wondered what in the world it could be.

Joe picked me up after work the next day.

I wasn't expecting him, or the bouquet of baby pink roses he carried.

'Want to come for a walk?' he asked. "The weather is crazy today. It's almost spring-like.'

'Sounds great.' I forced a smile. He was biting the skin beside his thumbnail, a sure sign that he was nervous. I supposed he intended to break the news about moving to
New York
tonight, and was trying to soften the blow with a romantic gesture. I sniffed the tiny budded flowers. My stomach tightened like an
overwound
clock. 'I'll just throw these in water and grab my coat.'

Neither of us was inclined to small talk.

We ambled in silence towards

If not for the cars, it might have been George Washington's time. Fresh paint gleamed on the wooden shutters of the two-hundred-year-old terraced townhouses. The marble steps were swept, ivy climbed the rich red brick, and small landscaped courtyards seduced both eye and imagination. I couldn't help wondering how many generations had set their wrought-iron tables beneath those gnarled oaks, breakfasting on scones or porridge or Pop Tarts.

I loved this city, and loved it best at times like this when the past hovered a breath away from the present. For all its energy,
New York
had nothing to match it. In
Philadelphia
, you remembered how the country began. You remembered the hopes and dreams, and you ached a little when they went awry.

I stifled a sigh. The unseasonably warm air brushed like pussy willows against my cheeks. To our left, a shimmer of scarlet fire trembled on the skyline, the dying embers of a breathtaking winter sunset. The twin art deco towers of