Mistress for a Night

Her mouth softened, trembled. Tears rushed to her eyes and clogged her throat, and she couldn’t have spoken if her life had depended on it.

His hand slid to the back of her head as he shifted closer, kissing away the crystal drops, working down to her mouth and taking that, tasting her tears, her lips, deepening the kiss to accommodate her electrifying wild response.

‘I take it that’s a yes?’ he murmured huskily as she broke away at last, pulling breath into her starved lungs, her soft lips tingling.

She nodded, her eyes sparkling with tears of almost unbearable happiness. ‘Yes,’ she whispered unsteadily. ‘If you’re sure? I couldn’t bear it if—if you just went away again—’

‘Sweetheart…’ He groaned, pulling her close, holding her against his heart. ‘I’ll never do anything to hurt you again, and that’s a promise.’ He felt her small hands flutter beneath his jacket, felt the warmth of her through his light sweater, and felt his flesh shake with the power of his need for her, loving her more than he’d ever loved anything or anyone. ‘I knew I loved you, wanted you and needed you, but there were reasons—stupid ones—why I thought we couldn’t make a future together.’

He wouldn’t mention her relationship with Harold. That was firmly in the past and could stay there, because Harold was dead. But he could tell her about the other reason, because it needed clearing up.

‘The guy you live with. I’ve only spoken to him on the phone—the first time when I had to tell you of Harold’s death, when he passed me over to you, and the second when he told me you’d gone out to the island. His tone alone told me he was defending his territory.’

Georgia lifted her head from where it rested against the warm angle of his shoulder, a slight, puzzled frown between her eyes as she looked at him. He brushed a tangle of hair back from her forehead and assured her, ‘It’s OK, sweetheart. I don’t expect you to have lived the life of a nun for the past seven years. And from the way you respond to me I guess you can’t be in a committed, serious relationship with him.’

She loved him for that, more than ever—if that were possible. Putting her hands on either side of his face, she drew his head down, kissing him until the breath left her body, and he said raggedly, against her mouth, ‘We’ll go back and move your things out. If he causes trouble, just leave him to me. You can stay at my London apartment until the wedding. Three weeks should give you enough time to buy a new hat! And then a long, long honeymoon. On the island? Would you like that?’

She threw her head back, her golden eyes dancing. ‘Very much! I can’t think of anywhere better.’ Then she giggled irrepressibly, ‘Oh, I do love you! You get the quaintest ideas! You don’t have to defend me against an ex-lover’s wrath—Ben isn’t my lover, never was. He’s simply a neighbour with aspirations in that direction. He tries it on and I slap him down. The number of jars of coffee he borrows would stock a supermarket, and I guess that when he answered the phone while I was on the island he was snooping.’

She sobered suddenly. The idea of Ben going into her apartment, probably pawing through her possessions, was horrible. ‘There are only four apartments in the building, and all of us have spare keys to the others—a precaution in case of burst pipes and so on.’

‘And he uses his to snoop around whenever you’re out,’ Jason said savagely. ‘The first thing I’ll do is make him hand it back. Not that it matters, because you’ll be with me in London. We’ll look for a proper home—a house in the country, darling?—when we’re back from that extended honeymoon.’

‘Jason.’ She laid her finger over his lips to stop him. He was making so many plans her head was reeling. She shifted round on the luxurious leather upholstery so that she could face him more squarely.

‘I won’t be with you in London before the wedding.’ She saw the sudden bleak flick of fear in his eyes and hurried on, because she couldn’t bear him to think, if only for an instant, that she’d changed her mind. ‘I need to work four weeks’ notice; that means I have to stay where I am. I’ll have to get in touch with my boss—Robin Ansley—in New York. He’ll need to appoint my successor, and I’d like him and Kate, his wife, to be at our wedding. They couldn’t have been kinder if they’d been my parents. And Sue and her American fiancé, and Guy, of course. So, if we marry in six weeks—’

‘Four,’ he stated. ‘I can’t wait a minute longer than that to put my ring on your finger.’

‘Done!’ she capitulated easily. She couldn’t wait, either. The wedding arrangements would have to be done on the hoof, but that didn’t matter. She could manage it. She could do anything as long as he loved her.

‘And I,’ he told her decisively, taking her hand and kissing the tips of her fingers, ‘will stay with you at your apartment while you work out your notice. I’ll have a meal waiting when you get home, and wash your smalls, and push your neighbour’s teeth through the back of his head if he so much as shows his face!’ He was smiling, but deadly serious. Never again would he put his work before her and her needs. ‘That’s if I can’t persuade Ansley to waive your period of notice. I’ll have a word with him when you phone, to let him know what’s happening.’

Snuggling back into the warmth of his chest, she smiled a secret smile. He was taking charge, and for almost seven years no one, but no one, had been allowed that liberty. But she actually liked it. It made her feel secure, and totally loved for the first time in her life. And very, very feminine.

He slid his hands beneath her sweater, stroking the smooth line of her back, sliding them round to caress the sides of her aching breasts, sending her wild with longing, and said thickly, ‘It’s time we headed back to your place, your bed. Or, I’ll start behaving like a randy teenager and ravish you in the back of the car!’

‘Oh, goodness!’ Georgia struggled up through the obliterating mists of rising passion. ‘I’m due to meet the solicitor—’ she shot a hasty look at her watch ‘—right now!’

‘I’d forgotten about him,’ Jason said, watching fondly as she tugged her clothing back in place, pushed her fingers through her glorious hair, trying to tame it. ‘What’s it about?’

‘Some letter Mrs Moody found—and papers to sign for her and Baines’ pensions.’ She sounded breathless; she felt breathless, unbusinesslike. She would be late for the meeting. And she would look unbusinesslike, look as if she had just been thoroughly kissed. Which she had. She would look as if she was ecstatically happy. Which she most definitely was.

She grinned, because it didn’t matter. ‘So give me the keys and I’ll get going.’

She held out her hand, and for a moment wondered if he would do no such thing, would insist on driving her there himself, leaving her beautiful car at the side of a ditch for someone to tow away and get rid of.

But slowly he took her keys from his pocket and put them in her outstretched hand, closing her fingers around them, and because she understood his reluctance—he’d been afraid that she’d drive herself into an accident, as Vivienne had, in what must have been a savagely reckless mood—she said, ‘Thank you. I promise I’ll drive carefully.’

‘I’ll hold you to that.’ He smiled, but his voice was gruff as she opened the door and slid out. And by the time she’d started her engine the Jaguar was on the road, leading the way, the pace staid.

Georgia grinned. Give him time and he’d learn that she was a safe driver, could handle her powerful car, was always in control. She loved him, deeply and devotedly, always had and always would. But there were certain things…

There was only one safe passing place on the approach to Lytham.

Georgia flashed her headlights in warning and arrowed ahead, tucking back neatly to the side of the lane well before the next corner, and Jason sped up, laughing aloud.

The battle for mastery would never get serious. With Georgia, the provocative minx, it would always be fun.