Forbidden Thoughts.

Mara lay sprawled across the enormous king-sized bed in her third-floor hotel room, staring thoughtfully at the ceiling. It was well past midnight, and between the Merlot she'd consumed at home and Richard's generous vodka and tonics, she really ought to have been asleep. Instead, she found herself wide awake, replaying the evening's events with a rather ridiculous smile on her face.

The room was beautiful, of course. Richard had made certain of that. The sheets were impossibly soft, the pillows enormous, and through the partially open curtains she could see the glittering city lights. Ordinarily she'd have been delighted with the luxury of it all, but tonight something else occupied her thoughts. Rather surprisingly, it wasn't Hugh.

It was Richard Arnett.

Mara rolled onto her side and smiled into her pillow. Richard. She still found it funny calling him that. For as long as she could remember, he'd been Mr Arnett, her father's best friend and business partner. The distinguished gentleman who appeared at Christmas parties and family celebrations, always looking important and impossibly well dressed.

When she was younger, he'd been the man who slipped her extra chocolates when her mother wasn't looking and brought her extravagant birthday presents. He'd always been terribly kind to her, and she'd always adored him. But tonight she'd seen him differently. Really seen him.

And good God, he was attractive.

She'd never particularly understood women who went for older men. Hugh was around her own age, and she'd always assumed that was how relationships were supposed to work. Men in their fifties were supposed to be somebody's father, or somebody's boss.

Richard, however, was something else entirely. His neatly styled silver hair, striking blue eyes and strong shoulders made him look like a ridiculously handsome television newsreader. There was something terribly appealing about his confidence, too. He never seemed hurried or uncertain, and even that awful business with the receptionist downstairs had been handled with effortless charm.

God, that's attractive, Mara thought.

And then, of course, there was the money. Not that Mara was particularly interested in money, she assured herself, although it certainly didn't hurt. Richard wasn't merely comfortable. He was properly, ridiculously wealthy, the sort of man who booked somebody a week at the Hilton without checking the price and gave away designer lingerie as casually as somebody else might offer chocolates.

Mara glanced towards the black Agent Provocateur shopping bag sitting on the dresser and felt another thrill of excitement. She still couldn't quite believe he'd given it to her. The beautiful lace, delicate embroidery, tiny satin bows and that astonishing price tag! Hugh certainly hadn't bought her anything remotely so extravagant lately.

Which brought her thoughts rather neatly back to Vanessa.

What an absolute idiot.

Mara couldn't imagine having Richard Arnett as a boyfriend and throwing him away. He was handsome, charming, successful, generous and, judging by the way he'd treated her, an absolute gentleman. What more could a woman possibly want?

Apparently, Vanessa had wanted some sort of future Richard wasn't prepared to offer. Mara couldn't understand why that should have been enough to end things. Surely being Richard's girlfriend, enjoying his company and accompanying him to expensive restaurants and beautiful hotels would have been wonderful all by itself.

She wondered again what Vanessa looked like. Richard had been annoyingly evasive, admitting only that she'd been attractive. Well, so what? Mara was attractive too, and she'd certainly noticed the way Richard had looked at her when she'd dropped that white bathrobe.

Oh, he'd tried to be terribly gentlemanly about it. It's a beautiful set, Mara. I'm very glad you like it. Such wonderfully polite words. But she'd noticed the colour rising in his cheeks and the brief look of surprise when he'd first seen her standing there in the black lace.

She hadn't imagined that, surely. He'd admired her, even if he'd been far too well-mannered to say anything revealing. She remembered turning around to show him the back of the outfit, proudly pointing out the workmanship while watching his reaction in the mirror. There was something immensely satisfying about surprising a man who always seemed completely in control.

Then there had been that little accident with his drink. She'd reached across to give him a playful shove, nearly knocked his tumbler over, and he'd caught her hand before she could do any damage.

For that brief moment, with his fingers wrapped around hers and their faces suddenly much closer than expected, the atmosphere had changed. Mara had felt a peculiar flutter in her stomach, the sort of nervous excitement she hadn't experienced in quite some time.

Richard had looked at her differently, too. Only for a second, perhaps, but she'd noticed it. She'd noticed it again when she'd kissed his cheek, deliberately lingering a little longer than necessary, curious to see whether he'd pull away or perhaps turn towards her.

He'd stepped back, of course.

The frustrating man!

Mara frowned at the memory of those final minutes in his suite. She'd been having such a wonderful time that she hadn't wanted the evening to end. She'd tried persuading him that it wasn't particularly late, that she wasn't tired and that there was really no reason to rush downstairs. She'd made it quite obvious that she'd have been perfectly happy to remain in his company all night.

Richard had understood exactly what she was doing. She was certain of it. He'd smiled that maddeningly handsome smile, assured her he wasn't trying to get rid of her and promised they could continue their conversation over breakfast. Then he'd stood, offered his hand and gently insisted she needed some sleep.

She'd practically begged him to let her stay, and he'd sent her downstairs!

Mara had been frustrated, particularly when she'd realised that no amount of charming smiles or playful protests would change his mind. She wasn't accustomed to men turning down her company, especially when she was making such an effort to be delightful.

But now, lying beneath the expensive hotel sheets, she found herself thinking about his refusal differently.

Richard hadn't been offended or embarrassed. He'd simply refused to take advantage of the situation. He knew she'd been drinking and was upset about Hugh, and apparently wasn't prepared to let either of those things influence his judgement.

Such a gentleman, she thought, smiling into her pillow. An annoyingly handsome gentleman.

The more she considered it, the more attractive his restraint became. He wasn't desperate for her attention or trying to impress her. He'd simply been Richard: confident, considerate and apparently quite capable of telling her no.

Mara wasn't particularly accustomed to that, the novelty was rather exciting, and there, in that big bed, her pussy was positively drenched just thinking about it. Perhaps he'd wanted her to stay but had decided he shouldn't. She certainly preferred that possibility to the idea that he simply wasn't interested.

She wondered whether he was thinking about her now. Perhaps he was lying upstairs in that enormous bed, remembering the lingerie she'd shown him and the kiss she'd planted on his cheek. Surely he'd realised she'd been flirting with him. She hadn't exactly been subtle.

Her phone sat on the bedside table. Hugh had sent several messages since she'd arrived at the hotel, but she hadn't opened them. Ordinarily she'd have been unable to resist, if only to discover whether he was sufficiently worried about her.

Tonight, however, she didn't want another argument. She didn't want explanations about work or Elaine or why he'd turned his phone facedown. She wanted to enjoy her beautiful hotel room, her expensive new lingerie and the delicious possibility that Richard Arnett might find her attractive.

And perhaps, she admitted privately, she wanted Richard to be thinking about her too. Mara rolled over onto her stomach and wedged a thick hotel pillow between her legs. She started to grind her pelvis, humping it as she imagined Richard Arnett.

Two floors above, Richard Arnett was having considerably less success convincing himself that the evening had been entirely innocent.

He lay on his back in the enormous bed of his fifth-floor suite, one arm tucked behind his head while the television murmured quietly. He'd spent twenty minutes staring at the screen without absorbing a word, his thoughts repeatedly returning to the young woman he'd escorted downstairs.

Eventually he switched the television off, hoping the silence might clear his head. It didn't. If anything, it made avoiding thoughts of Mara considerably more difficult.

Sugar Plum.

Good Lord. Of all the women in the world, why did it have to be her?

Richard closed his eyes. He remembered the day Mara was born, standing beside his best friend in the hospital corridor and congratulating him on becoming a father. He remembered her birthdays, school concerts and endless family gatherings at which she'd insisted on being the centre of attention.

As a little girl, she'd been an absolute terror when she didn't get her own way, although she'd possessed a smile capable of disarming almost anybody. Richard had been particularly susceptible to it. Whenever Mara wanted an expensive present her parents considered unnecessary, she'd invariably appealed to Mr Arnett, who was usually far too willing to indulge her.

And now that same girl was a grown woman. A beautiful, intelligent, occasionally infuriating grown woman who'd spent the evening flirting with him, showing off expensive lingerie and doing everything she could to avoid leaving his hotel suite.

Richard sighed.

He had absolutely no business thinking about her in that way.

Her father hadn't merely been a friend. They'd grown up together, studied together, rowed together and built a successful business partnership lasting decades. They'd trusted one another with their families and their futures, and when cancer had finally taken his friend, Richard had made a promise he considered sacred.

He would look after Mara. Make sure she was safe, that she never wanted for anything and that she always had somebody to turn to. He'd meant every word, and he'd never imagined keeping that promise might become quite so complicated.

He thought about her argument with Hugh. Mara had been terribly upset, and although she'd sounded convinced Hugh was having an affair, Richard wasn't certain she'd given him enough information to reach that conclusion.

He knew Mara could be impulsive, particularly when she felt slighted. She'd always had a jealous streak and a tendency to imagine the worst. Whatever the truth, she was upset, vulnerable and looking for comfort. Richard had been right to offer her somewhere safe to stay, but he'd have been a fool to confuse her sudden flirtatiousness with something more considered.

Unfortunately, knowing that didn't make the attraction disappear.

He remembered her standing in the lounge wearing that enormous white bathrobe, a mischievous smile on her face as she asked whether he remembered saying she didn't have to show him the lingerie.

He'd known she was planning something, although he'd scarcely expected her to let the robe fall straight to the floor. The sight had genuinely surprised him. The black lace had fitted her beautifully, and she'd looked so pleased with herself that he hadn't known whether to laugh or compliment her.

He'd tried remaining composed, offering polite remarks about the outfit, but knew perfectly well he'd blushed. Worse still, Mara had probably noticed. She'd always possessed an extraordinary talent for recognising when she'd embarrassed somebody.

It wasn't merely the lingerie that unsettled him. It was her confidence, the way she'd stood before him without appearing self-conscious, turning to admire herself in the mirror and demanding his professional assessment.

Richard had enjoyed seeing her happy again, but he'd also been uncomfortably aware that his reaction wasn't entirely paternal. The distinction troubled him more than he cared to admit.

And then there was Vanessa.

Richard remembered the woman he'd been seeing after his separation from Caroline. Vanessa had been intelligent, sophisticated and wonderfully entertaining company, with a sharp sense of humour and an appealing confidence.

Their relationship had been passionate, too. Vanessa had been an experienced, affectionate partner, and Richard remembered their private sex life together with considerable fondness. When she'd ended things because he couldn't offer the future she wanted, he'd been genuinely disappointed.

What disturbed him now was the extraordinary resemblance between Vanessa and Mara.

Both women had dark hair, expressive eyes and delicate facial features, with surprisingly similar smiles. Vanessa had been older and possessed the assurance of a woman who'd experienced considerably more of life, whereas Mara had a youthful energy that made her almost impossible to keep up with.

Mara was also slimmer and more athletic, with a noticeably toned figure. Standing there in the lingerie he'd purchased for Vanessa, she'd looked uncannily like a younger version of his former girlfriend.

He wondered whether that resemblance had anything to do with his attraction to Vanessa, then immediately dismissed the possibility. Surely not. He'd never consciously compared them before tonight, and the thought was deeply uncomfortable.

He'd known Mara since infancy, for heaven's sake. She'd been his best friend's little girl, the child who demanded piggyback rides and insisted he attend her birthday parties. He'd watched her grow up, celebrated her achievements and worried about her mistakes.

Yet his mind kept returning to the same uncomfortable question.

He remembered how happy he'd been with Vanessa, how naturally affectionate she'd been and how easily their relationship had developed into something intimate. He found himself wondering whether Mara might possess that same confidence in a intimate relationship, whether her boldness was simply playful bravado or something more.

The thought was unwelcome, and Richard was ashamed of himself for entertaining it. Mara's private life was none of his business, beyond wanting her to be happy. Whatever difficulties she was experiencing with Hugh, Richard had no right to imagine himself occupying Hugh's place.

Absolutely not, he told himself.

This was Mara. His best friend's daughter. The girl he'd promised to protect.

Richard reached for his water. He'd lived long enough to understand that attraction didn't always arrive at convenient moments. Feeling something was one thing; acting upon it was quite another.

He'd done the right thing sending Mara downstairs, particularly after everything she'd had to drink. He knew that beyond any doubt, and he'd make exactly the same decision again.

Still, he couldn't help remembering those final minutes together.

She'd been sitting beside him on the sofa when he'd suggested collecting her room key. Mara had immediately protested, insisting she wasn't tired and there was no reason they couldn't stay up talking.

Richard had understood perfectly well what she wanted. She wanted to remain with him, and she wasn't making much effort to disguise it.

And, if he was completely truthful with himself, he'd been sorely tempted to let her.

That was what troubled him most. He'd enjoyed her company enormously, and spending another hour or two with her had been genuinely appealing. When she'd looked up at him with those beautiful eyes and asked whether he really wanted her to leave, he'd almost told her she was welcome to stay.

Almost.

Instead, he'd reminded himself how much she'd been drinking, how upset she'd been earlier and how complicated their relationship already was. He'd offered her his hand and gently insisted she needed some sleep.

She'd looked disappointed, although she'd recovered quickly enough. He'd escorted her downstairs with a promise of breakfast, relieved that he'd managed to prevent the situation becoming any more complicated.

But he couldn't deny that turning her away had required considerably more self-control than he'd expected.

Perhaps Mara had simply been teasing him, enjoying the opportunity to make the usually unflappable Mr Arnett uncomfortable. She'd certainly seemed delighted by his reaction to the lingerie, and she'd always enjoyed getting a rise out of people.

On the other hand, there had been something different about the way she'd looked at him when she'd kissed his cheek. That kiss had lasted a fraction longer than necessary, and when she'd drawn back, her face had remained so close to his that he'd momentarily forgotten what he intended to say.

For one ridiculous instant, he'd wondered whether she might kiss him again, properly this time.

Richard shook his head.

Get a grip, man.

He was a respectable gentleman in his fifties, lying awake in a hotel suite thinking about his late best friend's daughter. It was absurd, inappropriate and embarrassing. If his friend could have seen inside his head, Richard suspected he'd have had some rather strong words for him.

Tomorrow would be different. They'd have breakfast somewhere nice, as promised. He'd make sure Mara was feeling better, perhaps encourage her to speak calmly with Hugh, and remind her that a single argument didn't necessarily mean a relationship was over.

He'd be the supportive family friend he'd always been, and whatever strange spark had appeared between them would fade into a harmless memory.

Mara would eventually sort things out with Hugh, Richard would return to his ordinary life, and everything would go back to normal.

That was the sensible thing. The honourable thing. And Richard Arnett had always prided himself on being an honourable man.

He settled back against his pillows, closed his eyes and tried to put the evening out of his mind.

Then his phone illuminated the bedside table. Richard glanced at the screen, expecting a late message from one of his business associates.

Instead, he found a Facebook notification. From Mara.

Richard stared at the message, his thumb hovering over the screen. He knew he ought to leave it until morning. She was safe, she had everything she needed, and there was absolutely no reason for them to continue their conversation at this hour. Nevertheless, despite himself, he smiled.