Temptation Read Online Free

signs of suspicion or doubt. I also wondered if she had perhaps called The Bellagio to see if I was actually registered there. But she greeted me pleasantly, and didn’t drop any hints about my whereabouts last night. In fact, she couldn’t have been more affectionate, pulling me off to bed early that night. And yes, the guilt chord did ring between my ears. But its reverberations were silenced by an even louder realization: I was madly in love with Sally Birmingham.
    And she was in love with me. Her certainty wasoverwhelming. I was the man with whom she wanted to spend the rest of her life. We would have brilliant fun together. We would have great careers, wonderful children. And we’d never lapse into the passionless ennui that characterized most marriages – because how could we ever be anything but ardent about each other? We would be golden – because we were meant to be.
    There was only one problem, though – I was still married to somebody else. And I was desperately worried about the effect that any future domestic decampment might have on Caitlin. Sally was completely understanding.
    ‘I’m not telling you to walk out now. You should only make that move when you’re ready – and when you think Caitlin’s ready. I’ll wait. Because you’re worth the wait.’
    When you’re ready. Not
if
. An explicit
when
. But Sally’s definitiveness didn’t disturb me. Nor did I think events were moving too quickly after just two weeks. Because I shared her certainty about our future together. Just as I privately fretted about the pain and damage I was about to inflict on my wife and child.
    To Sally’s credit, she didn’t once pressure me into leaving home. Or, at least, not for another eight months – by which time all my work on the second series was finished, and I had become completely expert in covering my extramarital tracks. When deadline pressure on the three episodes I was writing became particularly intense, I decamped for two weeks to the Four Seasons Hotel in Santa Barbara, on the pretext of needing to lock myself away for a concentrated work blitz. And work I did – though Sally spent one of the weeks with me, not to mention both weekends. When the show moved to Chicago for a week of exterior filming, Idecided to stay on for a few days afterwards to catch up with my old network of friends, though, in truth, that weekend Sally and I hardly left our suite at the W. Through careful juggling of our respective schedules – not to mention the use of a room at the Westwood Marquis – we were able to spend two lunchtimes a week with each other, and at least one evening at her apartment.
    I was often amazed at just how good I had become at covering my tracks and inventing storylines. Granted, it could be argued that, as a professional storyteller, I was simply practising my craft. But in the past I had always considered myself an appalling liar – to the point where, a few days after my one previous extramarital encounter in ’96, Lucy turned to me and said, ‘You’ve slept with someone else, haven’t you?’
    Of course, I blanched. Of course, I denied it all vehemently. Of course, she didn’t believe a word I said.
    ‘Go on, tell me I’m hallucinating,’ she said. ‘But I can see right through you, David. You’re transparent.’
    ‘I am not lying.’
    ‘Oh, please.’
    ‘Lucy . . . ’
    But she walked out of the room, and didn’t mention the matter again. Within a week, my intense guilt (and my equally intense fear of discovery) had dissipated – cushioned by my silent vow never to be unfaithful again.
    It was a vow I kept for the next six years – until I met Sally Birmingham. But after that first night at her apartment, I felt little guilt, little anguish. Perhaps because my marriage had become governed by the law of diminishing returns. Or perhaps because, from the outset of my romancewith Sally, I knew that I had never felt so ardent about anyone before.
    This certainty made me an