Mistress by Agreement

‘Oh, yes. You aren’t sure if you want a relationship with the most gorgeous thing on two legs ever likely to hit these shores. Right?’ Beth went on as though she hadn’t heard.

Rosalie’s gaze held more than a little exasperation. ‘It’s not like that,’ she said firmly. ‘We’re—’ what were they? ‘—friends.’ It sounded incredibly weak, even to her.

Beth opened her mouth but whatever protest she was going to make was cut off by the buzzer to Rosalie’s flat. Beth jumped to her feet. ‘The pizza guy.’ Beth jumped to her feet. ‘I’ll get it.’

Rosalie had pulled herself to her feet and was on her way to the kitchen when she was stopped in her tracks in the doorway to the sitting room by the sight of Beth almost buried under a mountain of flowers. The bouquet of tiger lilies and creamy pale orchids wasn’t the average red-roses type of declaration of a man to a woman, but then Kingsley wasn’t the average man.

Beth was clearly thinking the same thing because there was a significant little silence as the older woman gave the younger a long, meaningful look before she said, ‘Friends…right.’

Rosalie counted silently to ten. ‘That’s all, Beth,’ she said brightly, ‘and who’s to say these flowers are from Kingsley anyway?’ As if there could be the faintest chance they weren’t!

‘You mean you’ve more than one gorgeous man after you? No one could be that lucky.’ Beth mirrored Rosalie’s thoughts.

They were from Kingsley. The card simply said, ‘Thinking of you, K’. Which was utterly Kingsley.

When the pizza finally arrived Beth bustled about sharing it out onto the plates Rosalie had got ready, carrying two trays through to the sitting room where they’d planned to eat watching their favourite soap on TV. In the meantime Rosalie arranged the flowers in two big heavy vases and then left them standing on the work surface in the kitchen. She’d bring them through to the sitting room when her aunt had gone, she thought flatly, otherwise they’d act as a spur to keep Beth twittering on about Kingsley all evening.

Her eyes returned to the card just before she left the kitchen. ‘Thinking about you.’ No kisses, no cloying message that dripped sentiment. Simply ‘thinking about you’. Was he? His life was as far removed from hers as the man in the moon. Had he given her more than a passing thought since he’d left? Flowers were easy. Miles had bought her a bunch every day for weeks when they had first got together, sending the girls in her block at the university green with envy, but after she had left him she’d discovered that even then he had been messing about with other women.

She clicked her tongue irritably, annoyed with herself for both dredging up the past and allowing such cynicism to spoil what should have been rather a nice moment. They were unquestionably fabulous, the flowers…

Beth’s taxi came just after nine and Rosalie decided to have a long hot soak in the tub with some wildly expensive bath oil she’d had for Christmas, and pamper herself a little. She took the remainder of her glass of wine through with her, lighting a couple of perfumed candles and turning off the main light so she could relax in the flickering candlelight.

She had long since stopped feeling slightly ridiculous due to having to wedge the plastered foot on the chrome bath rack that fitted across the bath, and now as she lay carefully back in the silky water she shut her eyes, sighing softly and contentedly. The sensuous warmth and evocative perfume emptied her mind of everything but the moment, and she felt the tension flowing out of her in a relaxing wave.

And then the telephone rang. And rang. And rang. When she couldn’t ignore it a moment longer she hoisted herself out of the water, grumbling profusely, and warning of dire consequences should it stop the second before she reached it. Grabbing a bath towel, she shuffled out into the vibrating hall.

‘Hello?’ She had barked into the receiver, which wasn’t her normal telephone manner at all.

There was a moment of startled silence, and then, ‘Rosie? Is that you?’ a deep, unmistakable voice said with some surprise.

‘Kingsley?’ Her voice was high and she fought to moderate it when she said a little breathlessly, ‘I thought you were in the States?’

‘I am.’ She could tell he was smiling. ‘Did you get the flowers?’ The smoky tone to his voice curled her toes.

‘The flowers? Oh, yes, yes, they’re wonderful. Thank you.’ Pull yourself together, for crying out loud. She was babbling like an idiot. ‘What…what time is it there?’

‘The time doesn’t matter.’ His voice was deep, husky, as clear as if he were in the next room, and Rosalie shivered, though not from cold. ‘Had a good day?’ he asked softly.

‘Fine.’ Her heart was thumping so hard she put her hand on her chest before she could manage to say, ‘And you?’

‘So-so.’ A slight pause. ‘I’ve been dreaming of you, whether I’m awake or asleep. What do you think that means?’

She swallowed hard. Keep it light, Rosalie. ‘You’ve eaten too much cheese?’ she suggested levelly.

He chuckled and her heart turned right over. ‘I wanted to hear your voice,’ he admitted quietly. ‘Right now, this minute. Crazy, eh? What have you done to me?’

She swallowed again, feeling the drips of water trickling down her skin where the towel wasn’t touching.

‘It was a good weekend,’ he murmured. ‘The best I’ve had in a long, long time. Thank Beth and George again for me when you speak to them. They’re real nice people.’

‘Beth’s just left.’ Her stomach was curling at the tone of his voice, its seductive quality mesmerising, and to combat the feeling she added, ‘Utterly blown away by the flowers, incidentally. You’d have thought she’d received them herself.’

‘I’ve sent her some, as it happens, a basket of freesias.’

‘You have? That’s kind of you,’ she said carefully.

There was the briefest of pauses, and then his voice held a velvet touch when he said, ‘And you’re quite right in thinking it’s a ploy to inveigle my way further into her good books. I’ve a feeling I’m going to need every weapon at my disposal where you’re concerned.’ It was totally unapologetic.