Memoirs of a Millionaire's Mistress

Somehow she managed to make it across the room. Her arm trembled as she withdrew the sheet. And waited for a response. Any response.

The right response.

She thought she heard him mutter, ‘Apples again,’ and saw his jaw tighten.

He had something against apples? ‘It’s called Before the Temptation.’

‘What else could you call it?’ His wry response still gave her no clue to his thoughts.

Almost unbearable. How long he studied it, immobile, feet spread and arms crossed, she couldn’t be sure. Seconds? Minutes? She counted the beats of her heart. Lost count.

Finally, he nodded. ‘Okay, Didi, you’ve got yourself a commission. Two and a half weeks to come up with something of the same standard.’

Relief and excitement sent her soaring on helium balloons, making her voice breathless when she said, ‘I’ll need to know what you have in mind.’

‘Something half as big again. The rest’s up to you. I want your best.’

‘You’ll have it.’

‘Don’t let me down,’ he continued. ‘The press will be there, the minister for arts. I can’t afford—’

‘I won’t let you down.’

He nodded. ‘I’m not an artist, but I’m guessing it’ll take all your time with only two and a half weeks to completion. All day, possibly some evening work too. Have you considered that?’

She nodded. ‘Not a problem. I no longer work for the catering company, so I’m all yours.’

Hands dipping into trouser pockets, his gaze swung to her at last, and she was blasted by the full force of those eyes—not sceptical now, but…unreadable in the room’s cool electric lights. They darkened considerably as his gaze flicked down over her tight black T-shirt and apricot chiffon scarf around her waist, to the black leggings and bare feet.

Oh…Her toes curled against the smooth tiles, her fingers slid down the front of her thighs as her heart did a strange tumble. Why the heck did her body react to him the way it did? As if he could draw her into those bottomless pools and—No. She’d let herself be drawn into a man’s eyes once, and that had been one time too many. Jay had captivated her from the start, the way he had so many women. It was because of him she’d never trust a man’s looks again, nor the way he might make her feel.

Because whatever her feelings might be towards a man, she couldn’t trust him to reciprocate. Even when his eyes told her otherwise. She could only nod before clearing her throat. ‘I—’

‘You’ll need space to work.’

‘Yes.’ No. Her balloons deflated. She didn’t have space.

‘So you’ll remain here until the work’s completed.’ Blunt, a rusty knife on sandstone.

No time to reply.

He swivelled away, back bristling with tension, and headed towards the kitchen. ‘Less than three weeks, Didi. You’ve got yourself a chance—use it.’

CHAPTER FOUR

DIDI heard the sound of the fridge door open, something hit the kitchen bench with a thwack, and realised she’d eaten nothing since that apple at breakfast. Nor could she now with her stomach twisted into hard, indigestible knots.

Work here? In this man’s apartment? The man who ostensibly didn’t give a fig for the less fortunate yet took in a stranger with a cat, no questions asked…well, almost none.

He wasn’t the man she’d first assumed, she had to admit. And he was giving her the chance of a lifetime.

To anchor herself she clutched the front of her T-shirt while she replayed the last few moments. She’d wanted, more than she’d ever wanted anything, him to give her the commission, she just hadn’t thought beyond that happy moment to the day-to-day/day-to-night practicalities.

Several long days. And nights.

Cam hadn’t even bothered to comment on her work. The first person she’d exposed her best piece to, laying her vulnerability on the line, and not a single comment apart from a rude ‘apples again’—what was that all about? Typical of the wealthy, she thought with an inward sneer. It reminded her of her family’s dismissive attitude towards her art.

And yet…he had an original Sheila Dodd on his wall and he was opening a gallery, which had to mean he valued art. She thought of his eyes, the pulse-accelerating way he’d looked at her…Perhaps there was another reason he’d stalked off as if the demons from hell snapped at his heels…

She shook off the thought and all its complications—forget all that. This was her big chance, maybe her only chance to show what she was capable of.

Cam put two frozen gourmet meals in the microwave, set the timer, then leaned against the bench, uncomfortably aware that if Didi chose that moment to follow, she’d be in no doubt as to why he’d walked away before they’d formalised any kind of agreement.