'I'll shouldn't feel sorry for me,” he whispered back, not sure why they were speaking so softly, they were the only people there, but all he wanted to do was get closer to her and speak softer still. “I'm fine …”

“Aren't you though,” she replied, and then he was completely unprepared for what happened next. She put her arms around his neck, ran her fingers down the back of his neck until he had chills, and kissed him. And he felt his whole body respond with a surge that almost frightened him, it was so beyond his control. He wanted to tear her leggings off and lay her on the floor next to him, but he didn't dare do more than kiss her, and allow his hands to drift hungrily down her body. She was all muscles, and tight stomach, and splendid little behind. She was built like a ballerina, and her breasts filled both his hands. Their mouths and tongues were relentless. It was Daphne who broke away first, breathlessly. She had started an avalanche that she herself could no longer control, it was so exquisite, it was almost beyond bearing. “Oh God, Sam … I can't … oh God …how I want you …”

“I want you too,” he whispered back, devouring her neck and her breasts with his lips, and then he was kneeling next to her, and nuzzling her where her thighs met. She let out a long, soft moan, and as he pulled her closer to him, he suddenly came to his senses. He couldn't do it.

“Daphne … we can't …” He stood next to her again, holding her close to him, feeling guiltier than ever toward Alex. But he was consumed with desire for Daphne. “I can't. I have no right to complicate your life like this … or do this to my wife.”

“I don't care,” Daphne said hoarsely. “I'm a grown woman, I have a right to make my own decisions.”

“It won't go anywhere …you deserve more than this. I'm half out of my mind with wanting you. I have been ever since we met, but what does that give you?”

“A leg over, I hope.” She laughed suddenly at him, using the English expression for a piece of ass. But fortunately, he knew it.

“I'd like to give you something better than that, but I don't have it to give. Not now.” Not yet. And maybe never.

“It would do for a start,” she said playfully. “I don't ask for much.”

“You should. You deserve it.” And then without saying more, their lips met again, and he held her and felt her next to him for what seemed like hours until neither of them could stand it any longer. “We're going to have to do something about this, if it keeps up.” And with that, they both laughed at his very obvious erection. She was stroking it through his jeans, and the touch of her hand was driving him crazy.

“I was suggesting something like that.” She smiled and kissed him again, and then bent to nibble at the lump in his blue jeans.

“Stop it,” he said unconvincingly, “…no, don't … oh God …Daphne …I'm going to profess undying love in a few minutes if you don't stop.” She was driving him into a frenzy, and he loved the sensation.

“I was hoping you would.” She smiled mischievously at him, and then she stood up and poured him a cup of coffee.

“How can I do this?” he asked, thinking of both his wife and daughter.

“Things happen sometimes. Those are the realities of life. It doesn't always work out just as we planned. In fact, I'm not sure it ever does. My life certainly doesn't.”

“Mine is a disaster at the moment.”

“Are you close to her?” she asked, as they sipped their coffee, and tried briefly to forget each other's bodies.

“I thought I was. Now we can't seem to talk about anything. The only thing there is, is her disease. It's all she can think about, all she's interested in, all she knows. I can't stand it.”

“I'm not sure I blame her. But it's a lot to expect of you, though, isn't it?”

“I suppose I owe her that.” And then he confessed his darkest secret. “My mother died of cancer when I was fourteen. I hated her for it. It's all I remember about her, how sick she was, how she talked about it all the time, and had endless operations. They chopped her up in little bits, until they finally killed her. And her dying killed my father. I felt like she tried to kill all of us. She would have killed me too, except I wouldn't let her. I wouldn't let her poison me like she did him. I refused to become a part of her tragedy. That's how I feel now about Alex. It's as though I have to keep away in order to save myself.” It was a terrible confession, but he felt better once he said it. And she seemed to understand exactly what he meant, and in a way that Alex hadn't understood yet. She was too wrapped in herself to see his terror clearly.

“You can't do it alone though, can you?” Daphne said in the husky voice that drove him to distraction.

“I'm not sure,” he said. “I think I probably should try. But you're not making it any easier.”

“Actually,” she said, touching the bulge in his jeans again until it grew in her hand and he closed his eyes in pleasure, “I rather thought I was making it harder.”

“You certainly are.” He kissed her, wanting her desperately, but firm in his resolve not to have her. He owed that much to Alex. He wouldn't let her have his soul. But at least he owed it to her to be faithful. It was just bad luck that Daphne had crossed his path at that particular moment. Or maybe it was meant to be that way. Maybe this was his reward for what he was losing.

They stood there together in the pantry for a long time, and it was dark when they looked outside. He felt as though days had passed since he had come there. His voice was ragged with desire for her, as he held her for a last time, and then they put their coffee cups in the sink, and she washed them and put them away, and she followed him back to his office.

“Are you going to stay?” he asked. He hated to leave, but he knew he had to. He had to get home. And he had done absolutely nothing except paw Daphne.

“I'll take my work home,” she said easily. He went to her office with her while she got it, and then he kissed her there too. She fell backwards against the desk in his arms, and the temptation to take her right there was almost irresistible, but again he forced himself to remember that he was married. The leggings she wore didn't make it any easier for him. It was like holding her with no clothes on. He could feel every inch of her beneath his hands, and there was nothing that she tried to keep from him. Eventually, he freed her breasts from the shirt she wore, and they were so beautiful he almost cried. They were perfect and round with pink nipples that stood erect in his fingers, begging for him, and she asked for him as he played with her relentlessly and kissed her.

It was another half hour before she put her shirt on again, and they finally left the office. It was almost seven o'clock by then, and Sam felt like a kid as they got into a cab, and he told her he'd drop her off and then started necking with her in the backseat while she giggled.

“You'd better start locking your office door,” he warned. “I'm not sure I can control myself when I see you.” It certainly didn't seem like it, but Daphne didn't appear to mind.

He dropped her off on East Fifty-third where she'd rented an apartment in an old town house. It had been owned by a movie star, and there was still quite a bit of furniture there, but Daphne said it was pretty shabby.

“Want to come up?” she invited him, standing outside the cab in her outrageously appealing leggings, but he shook his head.

“I don't trust myself to behave.”

“Neither do I,” she laughed, and then looked suddenly serious as she reached into the cab and took his hand in hers. “Come back whenever you want to. Even if you just want to talk. I'm here for you, Sam. And crazy as it sounds at this point … I think I love you.”

“Please …don't … I can't …but thank you.” He kissed her gently again, and she waved and stepped back, as he made a mental note of her address and knew he shouldn't.

He was home by seven-fifteen, and Alex looked anything but pleased when she saw him. But she didn't say anything. She had guessed correctly that he was avoiding her, but she would have been even more upset if she'd known what he'd been doing. For a moment, he thought he smelled Daphne's perfume on him, and he went to wash his hands, and change his sweater.

“You must have had a lot of work,” she said cautiously after Annabelle went to bed. Carmen had finished the dishes and had already disappeared into the guest room.

“I did.”

“Business must be very good. You've never had to do that.”

“Simon's bringing in a lot of new clients. He's really terrific.”

“Are you watching how he's handling things? His style may not be yours or Tom and Larry's. You don't want some shiny flash in the pan screwing up your business.”

“He won't. He had a great reputation in London for bringing in business, and big money.”

“Clean money?”

“Obviously.” He looked annoyed again. She was always questioning everything. She was a true attorney in that she was always suspicious. He had been leery of Simon at first too, but he was convinced by now that Simon was going to do great things for their business. And he had brought Daphne with him …what more could he want? Sam found himself drinking of her again as he sat down to dinner with Alex.

“So what were you working on?” she asked, looking interested in what had kept him at the office all afternoon, and he almost choked on his salad when he heard the question.

“Nothing much …just a few things …some housekeeping.”

“Since when do you do that?” she asked. She seemed skeptical but not suspicious. It was obvious to her that he was simply staying away so he didn't have to see her, which was true. What she had no way of knowing, fortunately, was what he'd been doing with Daphne.