Stand-In Mistress

For a while they sat in a silence that, keyed-up as she was, soon became nerve-racking. Bracing herself, she stole a sideways look at his clear-cut profile.

It was cold and set, and she realised that he was quietly, but furiously, angry.

But then he was not only a man whose lies had been summarily rejected, but also a hunter deprived of his prey.

Serve him right, she thought with immense satisfaction. Let him go to bed frustrated for once.

He turned his head and glanced at her. As he caught sight of her gleeful expression, his own face hardened even more.

At that precise moment the limousine slowed down, drew into the kerb, and stopped.

The instant the chauffeur opened the door, Joanne scrambled out without a backward glance, only to find Brad close on her heels as she crossed the broad pavement.

Accompanying her up the steps, he waited impassively in the lamp-lit porch while she found her key, then, taking it from her nerveless fingers, he opened the door.

‘Thank you.’ Her voice was cold, and, dropping the key back into her bag, she turned away.

‘Before you go,’ Brad said silkily, ‘in view of the expectations you raised, I think at the very least I’m entitled to a goodnight kiss.’

Stepping over the threshold, he pinned her back against the door panels.

‘Get your hands off me, you—’

Ignoring her protest, he covered her mouth with his and kissed her deeply.

His kiss was insolent, punitive, and by the time he finally lifted his head she was dazed and breathless.

Looking down into eyes that brimmed with tears of rage, he said, ‘As you’re convinced I’m a lecherous, unfeeling brute, I thought you’d be disappointed if I didn’t act like one.’

As he moved back she lifted her hand and slapped his face as hard as she could. Then, catching her breath in a kind of sob, she fled into the house, banging the door behind her.

Trembling in every limb, she sank down limply onto the hall chair, and, taking a tissue from her bag, scrubbed repeatedly at her lips, as if trying to remove every last trace of his kiss.

Damn Brad Lancing to hell! she thought furiously as she listened to the car door slam and the limousine drive away. He had to be the most obnoxious man she had ever met, and if she never saw him again it would be too soon. He was immoral and arrogant and quite unscrupulous…

Seething futilely, she sat mentally flaying him, until the worst of her agitation had subsided and she had returned to a state of relative calm.

Everywhere was quiet and, apart from the hallway, the house seemed to be in darkness. Presuming that Steve and Lisa had gone to bed, she bolted the door and made her way upstairs.

As she reached the landing Steve’s bedroom door opened. ‘I know this sounds dead nosy,’ he admitted with an unrepentant grin, ‘but we happened to see you getting out of a posh limousine…’

Oh, hell! Joanne thought helplessly. In the circumstances, the last thing she wanted was to have to explain where she had been, and why.

It wouldn’t be fair to tell anyone else about Milly’s involvement, especially now everything was, hopefully, going to be all right.

‘I can’t imagine it belonged to Trevor?’ Steve pursued.

‘No,’ she said after a moment.

As Lisa appeared at his elbow he added, ‘The man who got out with you…while not in the least like Trevor, looked strangely familiar…’

‘Did he?’ she stonewalled.

‘Though I’ve only seen him once—Milly pointed him out one day when I picked her up from work—he’s not a man one would easily forget…’

When she said nothing, his voice teasing, Steve urged, ‘Come on, Sis, give. Can’t you see we’re both dying of curiosity to know what you were doing out with Brad Lancing?’

Caught off balance, and unable to think of any satisfactory explanation, she admitted boldly, ‘I was having dinner with him.’

Steve whistled softly. ‘So you were lying about Trevor and the concert tickets?’

‘Not exactly. He did get some tickets, but I told him I couldn’t go.’

Frowning, Steve said, ‘I know the engagement isn’t official but this isn’t like you, Sis…’

Joanne groaned inwardly. Now, on top of everything else, Steve thought she was cheating on Trevor.

She wished, not for the first time, that, even at the risk of hurting his feelings, she had refused point-blank to wear Trevor’s ring until she had come to a firm decision.

When she said nothing, sounding baffled, Steve commented, ‘I didn’t even realise you knew Lancing.’

‘I only met him recently.’

‘Why did you…? No, don’t tell me, I can guess why you kept it a secret. You didn’t want to upset Milly when she’d developed this schoolgirl crush on the guy…’

So Steve had been aware of Milly’s infatuation, but, judging by his casual tone, he hadn’t appreciated what terrible consequences there might have been.

But, showing he had, he went on, ‘The trouble is, men like him aren’t to be trusted. If he’d turned on the heat things could have been difficult, to say the least.’

Then awkwardly, ‘I know it’s none of my business, Sis, but if you intend to go on seeing Lancing you will take care, won’t you?’

‘I’m almost twenty-five,’ she pointed out a shade tartly. ‘Old enough to know what I’m doing…’

That was a laugh.

‘And if it sets your mind at rest, I’m unlikely to be seeing him again. Tomorrow he’s going to Norway for six weeks on business.’

Briskly, she added, ‘Now I’m off to bed. Goodnight, you two.’

Escaping into her own room, she closed the door firmly behind her, and went through to the bathroom to strip off her clothes.

What a night! she thought wearily. The only thing she could hope was that she had managed to discomfit Brad Lancing as much as he had annoyed her.

Rather than falling for him, as Steve seemed to fear, she had found him hateful and despicable. The few hours spent in his company were some of the worst she had ever had to endure.

Remembering the unpleasant little scene in the car, the way he had run his hand up her thigh and, his voice smooth as satin, queried, ‘You did say “lots”?’ she shuddered. He had deliberately gone out of his way to frighten and humiliate her.

Joanne brushed out her long dark hair and pulled on a voluminous cotton nightie, before cleaning her teeth more vigorously than usual.

Then, climbing into bed, she switched off the light, closed her eyes, and endeavoured to put Brad Lancing right out of her mind.

After more than an hour she was still wide awake and, in spite of all her efforts, still thinking about him, repeatedly going over in her mind everything he had said and done.

Especially that last devastating kiss.

She could still recall the way his mouth had ruthlessly mastered hers; smell the subtle scent of his aftershave; taste the hint of liqueur and the freshness of his breath; feel the way every nerve in her body had tightened in response.

Just thinking about it was enough to stir her senses and, she was horrified to realise, make a core of liquid heat start to form in the pit of her stomach.

No! She tried hard to deny it. How could a man like that, a man she both loathed and despised, arouse a desire that a decent, upright man like Trevor had never been able to awaken?

It was unthinkable.

Disturbed and wholly dismayed, she tossed and turned restlessly, finally drifting into an uneasy doze around dawn.

Joanne was trawled from the depths by a persistent sound that it took her a moment or two to identify as the doorbell.

It was almost certainly the postman, who was tending to come early these days, and she didn’t want Steve to be disturbed. Working as hard as he did, he liked to sleep late at the weekend.

Stumbling groggily out of bed, she pulled on her dressing gown and, tying the belt around her slender waist, padded barefoot down the stairs.

All the time the bell kept ringing with a maddening persistence that grated on her nerves. So much noise, and he probably only wanted to deliver one of those aggravating packets that gave themselves importance by saying, ‘Please do not bend…’ and then contained just junk mail.

Having drawn back the bolts, she threw open the door, and burst out crossly, ‘Will you please stop ringing the bell? My brother’s still in bed and…’

The words died on her lips.

Brad Lancing was standing there wearing a well-cut suit and a matching shirt and tie. Freshly shaved, his thick, dark hair parted on the left and neatly brushed, his green eyes clear and sparkling with health, he looked dangerously attractive and virile.

Before she could slam the door in his face he took his finger off the bell-push, and strolled in as if he owned the place.

As, the wind taken completely out of her sails, Joanne stepped back, he closed the door behind him and stood gazing down at her, his six-foot frame easily dwarfing her.

Straight-faced, he studied her shiny nose, the dark, silky hair tumbling round her shoulders, her demure Victorian nightdress and gown, her slim bare feet, and commented, ‘Just up, I see.’

Infuriated by his obvious amusement, she demanded, ‘What are you doing here?’

‘Can’t you guess?’

‘It’s too early in the morning for guessing games,’ she informed him curtly, ‘so perhaps you wouldn’t mind just telling me what you want?’

His eyes glinted at her tone. ‘You.’

‘What?’ she said stupidly.

‘I’ll be setting off for Norway around lunch time today, and I need a secretary. As it’s the weekend and too late to make other arrangements, I’ve decided to accept your offer.’

‘Offer? What offer?’

‘Surely you remember offering, “If by any chance Milly can’t come, I might volunteer for the post myself”?’

‘I wasn’t serious.’ She took a step backwards and, a panicky edge to her voice, repeated, ‘Of course I wasn’t serious.’

His dark, winged brows drew together in a frown. ‘That’s a pity, because when I said I might hold you to it, I was.

‘Now, clearly your sister isn’t in any position to come, so the job’s yours.’

Knowing he’d noted that touch of panic, and determined to stay cool, Joanne said, ‘Thanks, but I already have a job.’

‘I’m sure that, for the next six weeks or so, your brother could find himself another PA.’

With polite finality, she said, ‘Even if he could, I wouldn’t be taking up your offer.’

The door to the kitchen was ajar, and, glancing in at the comfortable-looking high-backed chairs drawn up in front of the stove, Brad suggested, ‘Rather than stand here, suppose we go through and have some coffee while we talk about it?’

‘I’ve no intention of making you coffee, and I don’t want to talk about it.’

Stepping past him, she held open the front door. ‘Now, if you’ll please leave.’

When he made no move to go, losing her cool, she cried, ‘Go on, get out! If you don’t leave this instant I’ll call Steve and get him to throw you out.’

‘Are you sure that’s wise?’

Though his tone was mild, it was undoubtedly a threat, and she hesitated. There was something about his firm mouth, the set of his jaw that, despite his quiet manner, his veneer of charm, made him formidable.

She shivered.

Steve was far from being a seven-stone weakling, but she sensed instinctively that he would be no match for this man.

As she stood irresolute, Brad Lancing took control once more. Closing the door, he put a hand beneath her elbow and urged her towards the kitchen.

Digging in her toes, she said mutinously, ‘As far as I’m concerned, there’s nothing to talk about. You are the last person in the world I would choose to work for.’

He shook his head almost regretfully. ‘Ah, but you see, you don’t have a choice. At least not if you care what happens to Steve’s company.’

‘What do you mean, “care what happens to Steve’s company”? Of course I care.’ She was aware that the note of panic was back in her voice.

‘Then we do have something to talk about.’

He strode into the kitchen, leaving her to follow in his wake, demanding anxiously, ‘What could happen to Steve’s company?’

Ignoring the question, he asked, ‘Would you like to make some coffee?’

‘I’ve already told you, I wouldn’t.’

He indicated one of the armchairs. ‘Then perhaps you’d like to sit down?’

‘I don’t want to sit down. I want to know what you’re talking about.’

Plugging in the electric kettle, he began to calmly assemble the cafetière and mugs. ‘When we’re both sitting down with a cup of coffee, I’ll be happy to explain.’

CHAPTER THREE

SEEING he meant to have his way, she bit her lip and sat down, watching him with angry eyes.

His movements were deft, assured as he spooned coffee into the cafetière and filled it with water. She wondered abstractedly how such a masculine man could look so at home in a kitchen.

It was the last thing she had expected.

A lot of wealthy men with a staff of servants to wait on them had probably never even seen the inside of a kitchen.

As though aware of her hostile scrutiny, he turned and cocked an eyebrow at her. ‘Milk and sugar?’

‘Just milk, please.’ She forced herself to answer civilly.

He handed her a mug of coffee and, putting his own on the stove where he could reach it, sat down in one of the high-backed chairs and regarded her quizzically.

Because he was well-groomed and smartly dressed, with her hair tumbling round her shoulders she felt dishevelled, and at a distinct disadvantage in what Milly referred to as her ‘little orphan Annie’ garb.

In a reflex action, she tucked her bare feet beneath her voluminous skirts, and saw him smile.

Gritting her teeth, she said as calmly as possible, ‘Now you’ve got what you wanted and we’re both sitting down with a cup of coffee, perhaps you’ll tell me what could possibly happen to Steve?’

Brad answered with a question of his own. ‘I understand your brother’s having a hard struggle to keep his company afloat?’

‘What makes you think that?’

‘It’s true isn’t it?’ 41

‘It was true. But now things are looking up.’

‘Really?’ he drawled.

‘Yes, really! Not only has Steve found an investment company willing to put money into Optima, but we’ve also just secured a contract to install a large new communications network.’

‘For Liam Peters?’

Wondering how he knew, unless Milly had told him about the negotiations, she said, ‘Yes.’

‘What would your brother do if both those opportunities were to fall through?’

A chill running down her spine, she demanded, ‘Why should they fall through?’

As though she hadn’t spoken, Brad went on smoothly, ‘With the house mortgaged up to the hilt, and scarcely enough money in hand to pay the staff their next month’s wages—’

‘Who told you that?’ she broke in angrily.

‘After I’d dropped you off last night I spent a little while checking up—’

‘Well, wherever you got the information—’

‘I got it from the horse’s mouth, so to speak.’

‘I don’t know what you mean.’

‘You’ve just told me your brother was promised a loan by an investment company?’

‘Yes.’ Shaken as she was by a sudden nameless fear, her voice was barely above a whisper.

‘Before agreeing to lend a business money, the first thing an investment company does is obtain a very clear picture of their client’s current financial situation, as well as the business’s future prospects. MBL is no exception—’

‘How do you know it was MBL…?’ Almost before the words were out, she froze.

Watching the dawning look of horror in her deep blue eyes, he waited quietly.

With a courage he was forced to admire, she sat up straighter and lifted her chin. ‘What does the M stand for?’

‘Michael. Though the family have always used my middle name.’

‘You don’t happen to own Liam Peters too?’

‘It’s a subsidiary of Lancing International.’

‘But surely you don’t control their policies, or interfere in their internal decisions?’

‘Not normally. But if I wanted to, all it would take is a word in the right ear.’

While the full enormity of what he was saying sank in she sat staring straight ahead, feeling curiously numb and empty.

She could hear herself asserting ‘You are the last person in the world I would choose to work for’.

And his response: ‘Ah, but, you see, you don’t have a choice. At least not if you care what happens to Steve’s company’.

After a moment she said carefully, ‘There must be more ethical ways to acquire a secretary?’

‘I’m sure there are. But, as I don’t want just any secretary, it’s a case of needs must…

‘You see, as this will be part-holiday, I want not only an efficient PA, but also a companion. I don’t find there’s much pleasure eating alone, sightseeing alone, spending the evenings alone…’

So this was what Milly had been asked for.

‘I’d like someone intelligent to talk to, someone to share things with—’

‘If you mean your bed, I won’t sleep with you,’ she broke in sharply. ‘I won’t be your mistress.’

He laid it on the line. ‘If you really want to save your brother, you’ll do anything I want you to do. Be anything I want you to be.’

‘I’ve got a fiancé.’

‘That didn’t seem to worry you last night.’

Head bent, she clenched her hands together until the knuckles showed white. Then, looking up, her eyes so dark they appeared almost black, she moistened dry lips, and asked, ‘Why me?’

He laughed, as though that was a silly question.

And perhaps, in the circumstances, it was.

‘Shall we call it poetic justice? You deprived me of a perfectly good secretary—’

‘But Milly wasn’t free to—’

Taking no notice of the interruption, he went on relentlessly, ‘And with no personal knowledge of what kind of man I really am, you attacked and reviled me.

‘I’m afraid I don’t take kindly to being called a lecher and a liar, and my motto has always been, “Don’t get mad, get even.”’

And this was his way of doing it. To use and humiliate her.

Feeling as though her blood had turned to ice in her veins, she shivered, seeing now, with hindsight, that it had been playing with dynamite to incense a man as ruthless as Brad Lancing.

Of course, he might be bluffing. For an instant she clung to the thought. But if she refused, and he wasn’t, it would not only be the end of the company Steve had worked so hard to make successful, but the end of the road for them all.

There weren’t that many jobs about. With no money coming in they would find it impossible to keep up the high mortgage payments…

Added to that, it might well put the young couple’s wedding plans in jeopardy, and with a baby on the way the whole situation could become a nightmare…

And it would be all her fault.

If only she had had more sense…

But it was too late for regrets, and, having got into this mess, how could she let Steve and Lisa and the loyal, hardworking staff at Optima suffer because of her stupidity?

The answer was, she couldn’t.

If she hadn’t meddled in the first place she would never have met Brad Lancing and none of this would have happened…But something even worse might have done.

At this very moment, Milly, rather than being safely in Scotland, might be wrecking not only her own life but also Duncan’s, by going to Norway with a womanising swine who would drop her the minute he had had his fun.

It didn’t bear thinking about. At least this way there would only be herself who would suffer…

She had looked up to give Brad Lancing her answer, when the door opened and Steve walked into the kitchen wearing a short navy-blue towelling robe.

Barefoot, his dark hair rumpled, he rubbed the back of his neck and yawned widely. ‘I could do with a coffee if there’s any made?’

‘There should be some in the pot.’ She was surprised by how steady her voice sounded.

‘Thanks. Lisa’s still asleep so I’ll…’ The words tailed off as he caught sight of Brad. ‘Sorry, I didn’t realise you had a visitor.’

‘An early one, I’m afraid.’ Brad rose to his feet and held out his hand. ‘I’m Brad Lancing…You must be Steve.’

The two men shook hands. Neither smiled, and Steve’s face had a cool, guarded look.

Joanne took a deep breath. ‘Mr Lancing called to—’

‘Brad, please…There’s no need for formality outside the office.’

‘Brad,’ she tried not to stumble over the name, ‘called because he’s in need of a secretary…’

As she paused momentarily, searching for the right words, Steve said, ‘Well, as Milly’s in Scotland, I fail to see how—’

Hearing the faint suggestion of antagonism in her brother’s tone, Joanne broke in hastily, ‘You don’t understand…Somehow there’s been a mix-up—’

‘What kind of a mix-up?’

‘Milly failed to hand in her notice, and apparently no one realised she was leaving so soon. Brad is going to Norway today, and, as there’s no other secretary available, I’ve agreed to go in Milly’s place,’ she finished in a rush.

Looking taken aback, Steve demanded, ‘What about your own job?’

‘Lisa could take over for the few weeks I’ll be away. She said only yesterday that she didn’t have enough to do.’

Seeing by Steve’s face that he was about to argue, Joanne said decidedly, ‘I’m sure she’d jump at the chance to get some added experience. And, as Milly has let Brad down, I feel I owe it to him.’

‘I don’t see that it’s your responsibility to make up for Milly’s misunderstanding.’

‘Perhaps not.’ Then knowing she had to convince him it was what she wanted to do, she added, ‘But I’d very much like the chance to see something of Norway.’

‘I can’t imagine your fiancé will care for the idea of you being away so long.’ It was obvious that Steve had emphasised the relationship for Brad’s benefit.

With more confidence than she felt, she said, ‘He’ll understand when I explain about Milly.’

‘You’re going to ring him?’

‘Yes.’

She would have to make time to break the news. Trevor was already seriously displeased with her over the concert tickets, and this desertion, as he would no doubt see it, certainly wouldn’t help matters…

Feeling too stressed at the moment to cope with what she felt sure would be an angry and hostile reaction, she chickened out. ‘But not now. He’s taking his mother to Bournemouth for the weekend. When I’m sure he’s back I’ll decide on the best way to break it to him.’

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