Mistress by Agreement

‘I thought you were my aunt,’ she said stupidly.

‘But as you can see I am not.’

‘No.’ She sucked in a hidden breath, forcing a smile as she said, ‘What can I do for you at this late hour?’

He strolled further into the room, his flagrant masculinity suddenly dwarfing the place, and to her horror he perched on the side of her desk as though he had the perfect right to sit wherever he liked. The ebony hair was even shorter than she remembered, the severity of the style emphasising his beautiful eyes with their almost feminine lashes. But of course he would have had it cut for the wedding, she thought testily. In order to look his best for…

‘Do you mind?’ She gestured at the papers covering the top of her desk. ‘You might disturb them.’

He glanced at the papers and then

raised his eyes to her face, keeping them there as her colour rose. ‘What’s the matter?’ he asked quietly.

‘Nothing is the matter,’ she said coolly. ‘I just don’t want things muddled up, that’s all.’

He folded his arms over his chest. ‘I muddle you?’

‘That’s not what I meant.’ And he knew it, darn him.

‘How’s the foot?’ he asked softly.

‘Much better.’ She belatedly remembered her manners and added, ‘Thank you for the flowers.’

‘Your aunt? Are you seeing her tonight? I was hoping we could do dinner.’ And he actually had the nerve to smile at her.

She didn’t believe she was hearing this! He hadn’t even bothered to contact her for weeks and then he breezed in expecting her to be available? To just drop everything?

‘Sorry.’ Her eyes narrowed coldly. ‘I’m busy.’

‘That’s a shame.’ Considering he had flown straight back across the Atlantic the moment the business deal he’d been setting up over the last weeks was in the bag. That, and Alexander’s circus of a wedding. ‘Are you free tomorrow?’

‘I’m away for the weekend.’ Funny, but it wasn’t as satisfying to turn him down as she had imagined during the last few days when she had let her mind dwell on such a remote possibility occurring. In fact it wasn’t satisfying at all.

‘The aunt,’ he said flatly. ‘Right?’

She nodded. And then she did what she had promised herself she’d rather cut out her tongue than do, and said, ‘How did the wedding go?’ her voice as causal as she could make it.

‘The wedding?’ He showed his surprise but as far as she could determine there was no guilt in his eyes. The rat. ‘Did I mention it before I went?’

He knew full well he hadn’t; neither had he seen fit to call attention to Little Miss Canary. Rosalie shook her head. ‘Mike’s wife takes a magazine which covered the event,’ she said pleasantly. ‘You’re famous, it seems.’

He grimaced. ‘Alex is, you mean. He owns half of New York State, or rather the family do. He’s a great guy but life in a goldfish bowl can get a little tedious.’

‘I’m sure it can,’ she said with no sympathy whatsoever.

‘Okay, Rosalie.’ He leant towards her, ignoring a couple of pages that drifted onto the floor. ‘Why the big freeze?’

‘I don’t know what you mean,’ she said stiffly.

‘Sure you do.’ His mouth had thinned but his voice was softer than ever. ‘I ask you out to dinner and it’s like I’ve committed the ultimate insult. No, thank you is simple enough surely?’

‘You happen to be in London and at a loose end, and you expect me to fall on your neck with gratitude because you deign to offer to pass a couple of hours slumming?’ she said tightly, regretting the words the second they had passed her lips. She had determined to be so cool and in control the next time she met him, and here she was practically demanding to know why she hadn’t heard from him before this. Worst possible line to take, Rosalie, she thought miserably, but she just couldn’t seem to think straight around this man.

‘Is that what you think?’ He had slid off the desk, moving round to her chair and pulling her to her feet regardless of her injured ankle. ‘That you’re a number in a little black book?’

He had his hands on her forearms and she couldn’t move, but she raised her head defiantly, looking him full in the face. ‘Actually, yes.’ And she made sure he knew she meant it.

She waited for his temper to rise but he considered her dryly, his head to one side. ‘Some girls wouldn’t mind that,’ he said softly. ‘Being wined and dined with no strings attached is what plenty of career women call for these days. No messy complications or irritating ties.’