The Season Of Love: Beloved. Diana Palmer
dangling. That would be the cruelest blow of all, when he knew she was Charles Percy’s lover. He had sick visions of Tira telling him everything Simon had done to her and laughing about how easily she’d knocked him off balance. Charles was Tira’s lover. Her lover. God, the thought of it made him sick!
He could see why Charles couldn’t keep away from her. It made him bitter to realize that he could probably have cut Charles out years ago if he hadn’t been so blind and prejudiced. Tira could have been his. But instead, she was Charles’s, and she could only hate Simon now for the treatment he’d dealt out to her. He couldn’t imagine her still loving him, even if he had taunted her with it to salvage what was left of his pride.
He got into his car finally and drove away in a roar of fury. Damn her for making him lose his head, he thought, refusing to remember that he’d started the whole damned thing. And damn him for letting her do it!
After consuming far more whiskey than he should have the night before, Simon awoke with vivid memories of Tira in his arms and groaned heavily. He’d blown it, all over again. He didn’t know how he was going to smooth things over this time. Jill called and invited herself to lunch with him, fishing for clues to his unusual bad humor. He mumbled something about going to the opera and having an argument with Tira, but offered no details at all. She asked him if he’d expected Tira to be there, and he brushed off further questions, pleading work.
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