Never Sleep With Strangers by Heather Graham

landed on hers where it rested on the table. “Want to see my room?” he inquired hopefully.
    She withdrew her hand, smiling because he could be so much like a child, so eager, so unwilling to admit defeat.
    â€œNo. I’m going to bed.”
    â€œThat will work with me.”
    â€œTo sleep. I’m one of those guests with jet lag. I got to London late last night and came here this afternoon. I’m tired.”
    â€œAll right. I’m right next door to you, if you change your mind. If things go bump in the night.”
    â€œThanks. I’ll keep that in mind,” she told him.
    She waved a good-night to the others as she escaped the great hall.
    The castle foyer and magnificent staircase were empty. With the doors to the library and great hall closed, she suddenly felt very alone in the ancient edifice.
    She hurried up the stairs and down the second-floor hallway with its Norman arches toward her own room.
    It was huge, retaining a historical feel yet updated to offer incredible warmth and comfort. The bed sat on a richly carpeted dais, and heavy draperies hung at the balcony doors to ward off cold drafts. The closet and bath were large, and an antique desk sat to the side of a massive hearth. A fire had been built and stoked, and it burned brightly as she entered her room, hesitated, then carefully shot the bolt.
    She kicked off her shoes and stripped away her stockings, then found herself wandering to the glass-paned balcony doors that closed out the night beyond. She opened them and stepped outside. From this vantage point she could see rolling fields, the shimmering waters of a small loch and the purple crests of mountains in the distance. The scenery, even by moonlight, was breathtaking. This trip was the opportunity of a lifetime.
    She never should have come.
    Sabrina drew a long, shaky breath. “So,” she asked herself aloud, “did you come to try to convince yourself that your brief, shining moment in his company is completely over and forgotten? Or were you hoping to sleep with him just once more, whatever the consequences?”
    She felt her cheeks redden. How humiliating. Would he sleep with her again? She undoubtedly had a reputation for being rather…casual. Just think of the way she had left Brett, running away naked….
    Funny. Brett was okay. She liked being friends. It was even flattering that he still pursued her. What he had done was terribly wrong, but what she had done was wrong, as well. She had married him without truly loving him.
    Because, of course, she had been in love with Jon Stuart.
    A cool breeze suddenly wrapped around her, and she remembered being in New York City for the very first time and winding up at a party for one of her publicist’s other clients, who had just had a Broadway opening. Sabrina had had no idea who the handsome party guest was when she met him, other than that his name was Jon. He’d had her laughing, telling her about the terrors of the big city and how it might well be a death-defying feat simply to survive her first experience with a New York cab driver.
    Admittedly, she’d drunk too much. She’d been exhilarated with the success of selling her book and excited at being in his company. He had a car, and he offered to drive her back to her hotel.
    She’d fallen asleep on his shoulder in the car, and when they’d reached her hotel, she was still drowsy, intoxicated and giddy. She remembered opening her eyes and seeing his face above hers, his eyes dark, marbled, fascinating. “We’re here,” he’d told her.
    And she’d nodded, though she hadn’t moved, and then he’d said, “I can carry you up to your room. Which is what I should do. Because if I bring you home with me, I’ll take advantage of you. I won’t be able to help myself.”
    Even with the breeze caressing her now on the balcony, she could still remember her reply.
    â€œPlease do.”
    No amount