Stand-In Mistress

As she hesitated in the doorway, the maître d’ appeared at her elbow. ‘Good evening, madam.’

‘Good evening. I’m joining a Mr Lancing.’

Inclining his head, he murmured, ‘If you’ll come this way?’

Rehearsing in her mind what she was going to say, Joanne followed as he led the way to a small, secluded table in an alcove, where a man with thick dark hair was sitting.

He glanced up at their approach, and then rose politely to his feet.

Over six feet tall and broad-shouldered, his face lean and tanned and, apart from a certain toughness, almost ascetic, he was so unlike the florid, thickset man she had visualised that for a moment she wondered confusedly if the waiter had made a mistake.

But, stopping by the table, he murmured discreetly, ‘Your guest, Mr Lancing.’

Somehow Brad Lancing’s appearance threw her, and instead of the words she had been rehearsing, wits completely scattered, she found herself stammering, ‘M-Mr Lancing…I’m Miss Winslow…but, as you see, the wrong one.’

He raised dark, well-marked brows. ‘Not the one I was expecting, admittedly, but equally charming.’

Hating him on sight, she explained a shade breathlessly, ‘I’m Milly’s sister.’

‘You’re nothing at all like her,’ he observed dispassionately.

‘No.’

‘Won’t you sit down?’

‘Thank you.’

He remained on his feet until the maître d’ had pulled out her chair and settled her, before resuming his own seat.

At least the brute had manners, she conceded.

‘I’m afraid I’m the bringer of bad tidings,’ she said as soon as they were alone.

His eyes were every bit as fascinating as Milly had said. A clear dark green, and put in with a sooty finger, they made her breath quicken as they rested on her face. ‘Nothing too dreadful, I hope?’

‘Milly can’t come,’ she informed him in a rush.

‘I see.’ Then like a rattlesnake striking, ‘You’re the Miss Winslow I spoke to on the phone.’

Shaken by his perspicacity, she found herself admitting, ‘W-well, yes.’

‘In that case you’re not the wrong one at all.’ He smiled a little, drawing her attention to his mouth.

Firm and controlled, yet passionate, it had a combination of warm sensuality and cool austereness that might have made almost any woman drool, and Joanne realised all too clearly why Milly fancied herself in love with him.

She was dragging her gaze away with an effort, when he said softly, ‘Tell me, Miss Winslow, why did you pretend to be your sister?’

‘I—I didn’t…’

Ignoring her instinctive denial, he insisted, ‘Of course you did. You even imitated her voice.’

Weakly, Joanne said, ‘It was just a joke…She wasn’t there, and I…’

‘You were simply answering for her?’

‘Yes.’

‘Do you always answer for your sister?’

‘No, of course not…But I knew she’d want to come…’

‘So why isn’t she here?’

‘Well, just before she was due to start, she had an emergency call from an elderly aunt,’ Joanne improvised wildly. ‘Poor Aunt Alice had just had a bad fall and was refusing to go into hospital. Milly is very fond of her…’

Just for an instant Joanne thought she saw a gleam of unholy amusement in those clear green eyes, but his face showed no trace of a smile as he said, ‘I know how these family relationships can be.’

‘She wasn’t sure how long it would take to get Auntie settled,’ Joanne ploughed on, ‘and she thought she might possibly have to stay the night.’

‘So you came in her place?’

‘Well, yes…I thought I’d better come and explain in person.’

‘Much nicer and more friendly than simply phoning,’ he agreed drily.

It was quite obvious what he was thinking, and suddenly she knew exactly how to play it.

Desperate situations called for desperate measures. If she could flatter his ego, pander to his vanity, make him believe she fancied him, he might ask her to have dinner with him.

If he did she should be able to string him along until Milly was safely out of his clutches. Then she would have the pleasure of telling him exactly what she thought of him.

Trying for a spot of girlish confusion, she admitted, ‘I must confess, I’ve been hoping to meet you.’

‘Really?’ he murmured, a glint in his eye.

‘I’ve heard such a lot about you from Milly.’

A look she couldn’t decipher crossed his face, before he asked ironically, ‘Can any secretary be relied on to say good things about her boss?’

‘Surely that depends on the boss?’ Joanne’s answer was a little sharp, and, reminding herself of the role she had decided to play, she gave him a coy glance from beneath long, silky lashes, and added, ‘If he happens to be a man like you…’

As though genuinely curious, he asked, ‘So what exactly did…Milly…say about me?’

‘She said you were clever, charismatic, and totally charming.’

Just for an instant he looked disconcerted. Then he observed lightly, ‘I might find that description difficult to live up to. However,’ he went on with a touch of self-mockery, ‘rather than let the “world of bosses” down, I’ll try…’

At that moment one of the waiters came up and handed them both a leather-covered menu.

‘Oh…’ Joanne made to rise. ‘I really ought to go and let you have your meal in peace.’

He asked, as she’d been hoping he would, ‘Won’t you stay and dine with me?’

‘Well, I…’

‘Unless your fiancé would object?’

He had sharp eyes, she thought as she answered, ‘No, I’m sure he wouldn’t.’

‘Then please, do stay.’

‘Thank you, I’d like to.’ She made no attempt to hide the eagerness.

‘Would you care for a drink while you look at the menu? Champagne, perhaps?’

The glass of wine she had drunk earlier, combined with all the emotional turmoil, had made her feel strangely light-headed, but she managed a smile, and agreed, ‘That would be lovely.’

He signalled the wine waiter and gave the order.

Within moments, the man was back with a bottle of the finest champagne in an ice bucket. Having gently twirled the bottle for a moment or two, he removed the wiring, eased out the cork, and poured the smoking wine into two flutes, before departing soft-footed.

Joanne was watching the bubbles rise, when her companion raised his glass and, his eyes smiling into hers, said softly, ‘Here’s to an exciting evening.’

She smiled back, and took a cautious sip. With a bit of luck he would get more excitement than he’d bargained for!

CHAPTER TWO

PLAYING for time, Joanne sipped her champagne and scanned the menu for as long as she dared, before choosing a melon starter and a main course of avocado and prawns.

The order given, Brad Lancing fixed her with his handsome eyes, and asked, ‘By the way, as your sister’s spokeswoman, can you tell me if she still intends to go on this Norwegian trip?’

Caught wrong-footed, Joanne hesitated, then said lamely, ‘Well, I think she’d like to.’

Picking up on that uncertainty, he explained, ‘You see, there’s not much time. I have two seats booked on a plane that leaves Heathrow at lunch time, and if your sister is likely to be still tied up with…your auntie I shall need to find myself another secretary.’

And one who was willing to be his bed-companion, no doubt, Joanne thought sourly.

Hoping to give him as much trouble as possible, she assured him, ‘I’m quite sure Milly won’t want to let you down.’

Recklessly, she added, ‘And if by any chance she can’t come, I might even volunteer for the post myself!’

A devilish gleam in his eye, he refilled her glass and said, ‘I might hold you to that. But you’d need to come prepared. The nights can get pretty chilly.’

‘Oh, I’m sure I could cope.’

‘Have you much experience?’

Loathing both him and the double entendre, she gave him a come-hither look and cooed, ‘Oh, yes, lots.’

‘Where are you working now?’ 23

Reluctant to provide too much personal information, she said briefly, ‘Optima Business Services.’

‘Owned by Steven Winslow.’

It was a statement not a question, but she answered, ‘That’s right.’

Brad Lancing seemed to know a great deal. But perhaps Milly had told him?

‘So you act as your brother’s secretary?’ he pursued evenly.

‘I’ve been Steve’s personal assistant for over five years.’

Reacting to her tone, he said, ‘I see.’ Then, a challenge in his voice, ‘And are you a good PA?’

‘If I wasn’t I wouldn’t have kept the job. Neither of us believes in nepotism.’

As soon as the words were out it struck her that she had been replying as herself, rather than the kind of woman she was pretending to be.

Giving him a flirtatious glance, she said in her best girly voice, ‘But I’m not very interesting…I’d much rather talk about you, Mr Lancing.’

His firm mouth twitched. ‘Won’t you call me Brad?’

‘I’d love to, if you call me Joanne.’

‘It will be my pleasure.’

Taking a sip of her champagne, she smiled at him over the rim of the glass. Then, recalling something Milly had once said, she leaned towards him and murmured in a husky voice, ‘I’ve always found handsome, powerful men like you a real turn-on.’

The ‘like you’ was her own contribution.

An expression that might have been amusement flitted across his face, making her wonder if she was overdoing it, but it was gone in an instant, and she decided it must have been self-satisfaction.

Someone as vain and egotistical as he undoubtedly was would lap up any amount of flattery.

He must have been looking forward to a romantic evening with a girl who thought he was wonderful, and being a womaniser, he would no doubt have seduction on his mind.

Well, let him believe she was a pushover. The shock would be all the greater when he discovered that instead of the sex kitten he was hoping for, she was a cat with claws.

For the next hour or so, while they ate what turned out to be a very good meal, Joanne flirted with him shamelessly. Hanging on his every word, she touched his sleeve from time to time and occasionally let her foot nudge his under the table.

Avoiding questions about herself as much as possible, she made an effort to keep the conversation centred on him.

It proved to be harder than she had anticipated.

Most men, even the nicest ones, were usually happy to keep their egos inflated by talking about themselves, but Brad Lancing, while prepared to discuss the business scene, seemed unwilling to divulge anything remotely personal.

Perhaps he was married after all?

If he was, she pitied his poor wife.

‘I suppose you must travel an awful lot?’ Joanne enquired as the waiter brought the liqueur coffees Brad had ordered.

‘Not as much as I used to. These days I only travel if I believe my presence is really essential.’

‘Your wife must be pleased about that,’ she remarked idly, taking a sip of her coffee.

Those green eyes pinned her, making her go oddly fluttery. ‘I’m not married,’ he told her coolly, ‘nor have I ever been remotely tempted to put my head in the silken noose.’

‘Oh…’

With a gleam of mockery, he added, ‘Who was it said, “Love all and marry none”?’

‘Whoever it was, I understand you follow their advice to the letter?’ The sharp words were out before she could prevent them.

‘I have until now,’ he admitted easily. Then with a sidelong glance, ‘You sound as if you disapprove?’

She answered the question with another. ‘Who was it said, “Gather ye rosebuds while ye may”?’

‘Now, that one I can answer. Herrick.’

His voice, as well as being attractive, was educated, but, not having put him down as a man who would take much interest in poetry, she was surprised by his knowledge.

‘Do you agree with the sentiment?’ he pursued.

‘I suppose so,’ she admitted, ‘though I haven’t had much time for gathering rosebuds.’

‘Why not?’

She replied briefly, ‘When our parents died in a train crash I left college to take over the running of the house.’

‘How old were you then?’

‘Nineteen.’

‘And you went to work for your brother at the same time?’

‘Yes.’

‘How many were there in the family?’

‘Just three. Steve, who’s the eldest, myself, and Milly, who was only a schoolgirl.’

‘So you’ve been a mother to your younger sister?’

‘You could say that.’

Seeing he was about to probe further, she forced a bright smile, and changed the subject. ‘I understand that you’ll be in Norway for six weeks or so?’

‘That’s right.’

‘It seems a long time for a business trip. Are you planning a new project?’

‘No. Just sorting out a family business that’s been in existence for generations.’

‘A family business?’ she echoed in surprise. ‘Surely Lancing isn’t a Norwegian name?’

‘No, it was my mother who came from Norway. Her father was Norwegian and her mother English. An only child, she lived with her parents in Bergen until she met and married my father.

‘After that she only returned to Norway for holidays, though the family remained close until she was killed in an accident just over a year ago.

‘When my grandfather died shortly afterwards he left me the Dragon Shipping Line and hotel business he’d spent his entire life running.

‘Since then there have been quite a few problems, and a while ago I sent one of my best men over there to deal with them.

‘Paul was fairly sure he was well on his way to sorting them out without needing me, but during the last couple of months things have started to go wrong again.

‘Then this morning something more serious happened that made up his mind that he needed my help, and he contacted me to say he thinks I should go after all.

‘If the problems had been resolved I would probably have left my trip until the spring. But as it is, I can’t let things drift until then.’

Starting to feel more than a little woozy, she asked, ‘Why spring?’

‘Because, though September is a wonderful time to hike in the hills, Norway is particularly beautiful in the spring when the ice is breaking up and the rivers are in spate…

‘You see, as well as dealing with the business side, it’s my intention to take some time off and have a break.

‘Due to pressure of work I haven’t had a proper holiday for a couple of years, and I haven’t been to Norway for more than a few days at a time on business.

‘I’m very fond of my mother’s homeland, so the thought of taking a real holiday there is an enticing prospect…’

Enticing enough to almost make Milly leave her husband, Joanne thought bitterly.

He raised a winged brow. ‘Judging by your expression, you don’t think so?’

‘Not at all,’ she disagreed hastily. ‘I’ve always thought Norway must be wonderful. Which part are you going to?’

‘Bergen. Have you ever been there?’

‘No.’

‘Have you done much travelling?’

‘Not since my parents died. Though I did have a long-weekend break earlier this year.’

‘Where did you choose to go?’

‘I was hoping to go to Rome, but Trevor favoured Amsterdam.’ Now, what on earth had made her tell him that?

Picking up her left hand, he examined the diamond solitaire she wore. ‘Trevor being your fiancé?’

After a brief hesitation, she said, ‘Yes.’

He stroked over her knuckles with his thumb, sending a shiver through her. ‘But obviously he’s not the jealous type?’

‘No.’ Restive beneath his touch, she withdrew her hand, and glanced a shade muzzily at her watch. Milly and Duncan should be away from the house in the next five minutes or so…

‘You seem eager to leave,’ Brad commented lightly.

She was. Her mission accomplished, she couldn’t wait to end the charade and escape. ‘Well, if you need to make a fairly early start tomorrow…’

‘Yes, you’re quite right,’ he agreed, signalling the waiter. ‘It’s time we were making a move.’

High time. Drawing a deep breath, she turned to tell him exactly what she thought of him, but just at that instant the waiter arrived.

While Brad paid the bill, and added a generous tip, she glanced around. There were still quite a few people within earshot, and, disliking the idea of making a scene in the quiet restaurant, she decided to wait until they were outside.

When she had picked up her bag he drew back her chair, and she rose to her feet a shade unsteadily. A hand cupping her elbow, he escorted her out of the restaurant and across the foyer.

Distinctly light-headed, she had to make herself concentrate as they descended the red-carpeted stairs. A couple of steps from the bottom, she stumbled, and he was forced to steady her.

At the entrance, a sleek grey limousine was drawn up, a liveried chauffeur holding open the door. Before Joanne could gather her wits Brad had handed her in and was sitting beside her.

‘I’d intended to get a taxi,’ she said in belated and breathless protest as they drew away. ‘Oh?’

Without turning his head, the chauffeur asked, ‘Straight home, sir?’

‘Yes, please, Gregory.’ Brad touched a button and the glass partition between the driver and his passengers closed. A moment later blinds slid into place, covering both the partition and the windows.

Taking immediate advantage of the softly lit intimacy, he caressed her silk-clad knee.

Flinching away in a sudden panic, and wishing desperately that she hadn’t been foolish enough to get into the car in the first place, Joanne announced as firmly as possible, ‘I live in Fulham, and I—’

‘Yes, I know.’ He drew her close, and an instant later his mouth was covering hers.

Shocked by the suddenness of the move and by the tumult of feeling his kiss evoked, for a moment or two she made no attempt to free herself.

When, remembering just who was kissing her, she pulled herself together and began to struggle, his arms merely tightened and he deepened the kiss.

Terrified now, she began to struggle in earnest, but he was so much stronger than she had realised, and he held her easily.

Tearing her mouth free, she gasped, ‘Leave me alone. I don’t want you to touch me…’

Looking completely unruffled, he remarked, ‘From the way you’ve been behaving, I rather thought you were inviting it.’

‘Well, you were wrong. I want to go home,’ she added shakily.

‘That’s where we are going.’

‘My home,’ she insisted.

‘Somehow I’d got the impression that, in spite of being engaged, you’d intended to come home with me.’

Her heart throwing itself against her ribs, she said hoarsely, ‘Well, you were wrong! I’d like you to tell your chauffeur to stop and let me get out right this minute.’

Raising his dark brows in mock-surprise, he queried, ‘So what made you change your mind?’

‘I haven’t changed my mind. I—’

‘I’m pleased to hear it.’

Ignoring the interruption, she rushed on, ‘I haven’t changed my mind because I never had the slightest intention of going home with you.’

His voice holding more than a hint of soft menace, he said, ‘I wouldn’t like to think you’d been leading me on just for the hell of it.’

She swallowed hard. ‘I haven’t been leading you on just for the hell of it—’

‘Well, as you have undoubtedly been leading me on, perhaps you’d like to tell me why?’

‘Because I needed to keep you occupied, to prevent you contacting Milly,’ she admitted in a rush.

He smiled grimly. ‘So your sister was at home all the time? Oddly enough I never did believe in poor Auntie Alice…

‘But I’m afraid I don’t understand why you were prepared to go to such lengths to stop me contacting my own secretary?’

‘If you had spoken to her she would have dropped everything and come.’

‘I see,’ he said slowly. ‘And you thought she might be…keeping my bed warm tonight?’

‘I know she would.’

‘You don’t know anything of the kind.’

‘She’s infatuated with you.’

‘And you blame me for that?’

‘Of course I blame you. She told me how you’d taken her out to dinner, and the way you’d looked at her.

‘If I hadn’t discovered what was going on, and happened to intercept your phone call, she would have risked everything to be here.’

He frowned. ‘Risked everything?’

Into her stride now, Joanne rushed on, ‘Steve told me you had a rotten reputation as far as women were concerned, but I never dreamt that even a swine like you would go after a girl who’s only eighteen and married into the bargain—’

‘Married?’ He sounded startled.

‘Don’t pretend you didn’t know.’

Her face full of contempt, she lashed out at him verbally. ‘You’re a miserable, womanising bastard, and totally without principles!

‘You dangled the bait of a Norwegian trip in front of her until she was almost prepared to break up her marriage and go to Norway with you, rather than move to Scotland with her husband—’

‘Would you care to slow down a little…? I’m getting confused. I thought she lived with you?’

‘She does, and so does her husband…Or rather they did. They’ll soon be on their way to Edinburgh to live, and hopefully Milly will be well out of reach of lecherous men like you…’ Running out of breath, Joanne stopped abruptly.

‘Now I’m beginning to understand,’ Brad said evenly. ‘Presumably they’re taking the night sleeper, and you wanted to keep me occupied until your sister was safely on board and couldn’t change her mind…’

‘That’s right.’ Joanne made no secret of her triumph. ‘Now, if you’ll ask your chauffeur to stop and let me get out…’

When he made no move she threatened shakily, ‘If you don’t I’ll start screaming.’

Calmly, he said, ‘Even if I allowed you to scream, I doubt very much if anyone would hear…’

Recalling both his strength and his total lack of scruples, she shuddered.

‘And I can’t help but feel you owe me…’

When she said nothing he pointed out, ‘You seem quite certain that your sister would have been sharing my bed tonight.’

‘Well, I’m not Milly,’ she cried desperately.

‘But earlier you agreed that you’d come in her place. You even boasted that you were experienced.’

Watching all the colour drain from her face, he observed mockingly, ‘Now you’re acting more like a frightened schoolgirl than a woman with lots of experience.’

He ran his hand up her thigh and, his voice smooth as satin, queried, ‘You did say “lots”?’

She pushed his hand away, and seeing the gleam in his eye, realised he was enjoying baiting her, getting a little of his own back.

Suddenly afraid of how far he’d go, she begged, ‘Please don’t.’

‘That’s better,’ he applauded.

‘Will you let me get out?’ Despite all her efforts her voice shook betrayingly as she added, ‘Please.’

His dark, well-shaped head tilted a little to one side, he pretended to consider. Then he said ironically, ‘As you’re asking so prettily, and I don’t want to add kidnapping to my list of crimes, I’ll be happy to take you home. Where do you live, exactly?’

She gave him her address.

He pressed a button, and, speaking into a small grille, ordered, ‘Gregory, I’d like you to go straight to Fulham and drop Miss Winslow at twenty three Carlisle Street.’

‘Thank you,’ she said through gritted teeth.

Settling himself back into his seat, Brad turned to her and asked seriously, ‘Suppose I told you that you’re totally mistaken about my relationship with your sister? That as far as I’m concerned she’s simply a nice girl and an efficient secretary?’

So now he was trying to excuse himself, make himself out to be whiter than white.

As she remembered the way he had slid his hand up her thigh Joanne’s blood boiled.

‘Knowing what kind of man you are, I wouldn’t believe a word of it,’ she said contemptuously, and moved as far away from him as the seat would allow.