Mistress for a Night

Georgia knew she was getting the ‘fattening-up’ treatment, and quailed. She wouldn’t be able to get through a quarter of it, not the way she was feeling, her emotions in turmoil, her brain in a tangle over Jason’s accusation. The sooner lunch was over and she could set him straight the better.

At least he could eat the lion’s share of the food and deflect Blossom’s wrath, she reflected as she helped herself to a little chicken and salad and spread it around her plate to make it look like a lot.

‘Mr Jason, he just grabbed a sandwich,’ Blossom grumbled, disabusing her. ‘The generator’s acting up, so he’s fixing it. That Elijah’s a no-good man—never around when he’s needed!’

Left alone finally, Georgia ground her teeth with frustration. Jason had got the idea from somewhere that she’d got rid of their child, and from what he’d said he’d defended her against Harold’s slur on her morality because he hadn’t believed her capable of making sexual advances to her stepfather, not at that time.

But now he did. He probably thought she’d earned her inheritance by lying flat on her back!

The very idea made her feel ill. She gathered up most of the thin wafers of fried bread, walked on to the veranda through the open French windows and fed them to the birds. She felt the early-afternoon heat surround her, dewing her face with perspiration, sticking her clothes to her body.

The need to talk to Jason, put him straight, vindicate herself, was imperative. But heaven only knew how long it would take to fix the generator.

Blossom had a stand-by stove, which ran on bottled gas, and there were ample hurricane lamps, not to mention candles. But they needed the power supply for the huge refrigerator and deep-freeze. Jason wouldn’t show until he’d finished the job. He took his responsibilities seriously.

As he had taken his responsibilities towards her and the child he had fathered seriously—enough to offer marriage, his care and protection.

Her stomach tightened with regret, with old memories of yearning, loving and needing. Simple, blind adoration. But that was the past, gone beyond recall, and this was the present. She was a different person, with different needs and aspirations.

She tossed the last of the bread to the chattering flock of birds and brushed the crumbs from her hands. There w

as only one constant, one threat that bound the past to the present.

Sex.

She walked back through the French windows and began to stack the lunch dishes on the tray Blossom had left on a mahogany side table. Sex. She could live without it. Had successfully done so for the last seven years. The price to be paid for emotional and physical involvement was way too high. Even if she hadn’t had her own experience to draw on, she had her mother’s.

She’d just put the record straight regarding that fictional termination, and then, as he’d said, he would leave. And she would let him go, and that would be the end of it. She would wipe the effect he, and only he, had on her from her mind and regain all her energy, drive and ambition—because that was what had made her the woman she was.

All she had to do was mentally let him go. Easy. Yet she wasn’t so sure it would be quite so simple when she carried the tray through to Blossom and Jason walked through the outer door of the kitchen, wiping his strong, oil-streaked hands on a rag.

He was so gorgeous! That was the problem. Dark hair rumpled, a smudge of oil on one slashing cheekbone, his body emanating lean strength from the light covering of khaki drill shorts and loose black T-shirt.

Her heart juddered and the dishes clattered on the tray. The stark urgency of her physical need for him made everything inside her shake.

Blossom took the tray from her, tutting over the amount left uneaten.

After giving her a swift but encompassing look from under his brows, Jason tossed the rag in the waste bin and said, ‘All fixed, Blossom. When Elijah gets back, ask him to be ready to ferry me over to San Antonio in time for this evening’s airbus, would you?’

‘You ain’t leaving so soon, Mr Jason? Why, you only just got here!’ Blossom wailed, dumping the tray on the sink with a clatter that boded ill for the delicate china. ‘Whatever can you be thinking of?’

My sanity, Jason thought drily. My self-respect. I have to get out before I make a complete fool of myself and tell her I want her more than I’ve ever wanted any woman before or am likely to in the future.

To let himself be caught in the little witch’s web again would be catastrophic. Love and trust was infinitely more important than lust, no matter how compelling.

He could no more trust her than he could sprout wings and fly.

He said, in passing, ‘Needs must, I’m afraid, Blossom.’ And to Georgia, his eyes cold, ‘If I leave at four-thirty I’ll have time to clean up, get changed and packed and see you at four to round off that conversation. So don’t go missing.’

Or else, his tone implied, Georgia thought bleakly as she watched the door swing to behind him. Half an hour to tie up loose ends. Was that all he thought she rated? She gave a mental shrug. She wouldn’t let it hurt. It wasn’t worth it.

‘And what conversation would that be, Miss Georgie?’ Blossom wanted to know, her black eyes shrewd. ‘You two been fightin’—is that why he’s leavin’ in such an almighty hurry?’

‘Just some unfinished family business, that’s all,’ Georgia responded, as repressively as she knew how. ‘And, no, we haven’t been fighting.’ Not the physical punch-on-the-nose variety, anyway.

‘You two don’t count as real family.’ Blossom vigorously scraped the leavings into the waste bin. ‘A stepfather in common, that’s all you got. And just as well, in my opinion. My eyes near popped out of my head seeing you follow him out of the water wearin’ just your skin!’

Turning on her heels, Georgia stalked out of the kitchen. Long before she gained the privacy of her room she felt her face go crimson with painfully deep embarrassment. Blossom had seen her, from here in the house or from the cliff edge, had thought they’d gone skinny-dipping together—and goodness only knew what else!