The Boss's Secret Mistress

He shook his head, then leaned towards her to say in a low voice, ‘If that’s true, Simpson must be goddamn lousy in bed.’

Tory reacted with shocked disbelief. ‘Do you have to be so…so…?’

‘Accurate?’

‘Crude!’

‘I can’t help it,’ he claimed. ‘I am American, after all.’

His tone was serious, but inside he was laughing. At her.

‘Is that what you like about Simpson? Is he suitably refined?’

‘More so than you, at any rate.’

Tory had, by this time, given up worrying about job security.

Lucas Ryecart had also abandoned any effort to be a fair, reasonable employer.

‘I won’t argue with that.’ He shrugged off any insult, before drawling, ‘But at least I have a certain homespun notion of morality.’

‘Really?’ Tory sniffed.

‘Yes, really,’ he echoed. ‘If I were married, I wouldn’t dump my wife and kids just because a newer, prettier model came along—’

‘That’s not the way it was,’ Tory almost spat at him, ‘and who knows what you’d do. You’re not married, are you?’

‘Not currently, but I was.’ His face clouded briefly.

Tory could have kicked herself. She’d forgotten momentarily his connection with Jessica Wainwright.

‘And when I was married, I was faithful,’ he added quietly.

Tory believed him. He hadn’t cheated on Jessica. He hadn’t cheated because he’d adored her.

Her anger faded as she wondered if he still grieved but she didn’t want to probe further. She was uncomfortable with the whole subject.

‘Mr Ryecart,’ she replied at length, ‘I don’t feel this is any of my business.’

‘It will be, Miss Lloyd,’ he mocked her formality, ‘come the day I take you away from Simpson.’

‘What?’

‘I said—’

‘I heard!’ She just didn’t believe him. Was it a joke?

Blue eyes caught and held hers. They told her it was no joke.

‘I’ve decided I am interested, after all,’ he stated dispassionately.

They could have been discussing a business deal. She was to be his latest acquisition. Take over, asset strip, move on.

‘I thought you were too old for me,’ Tory reminded him pointedly.

‘I’d have said so, yes,’ he agreed in dry tones, ‘but as you’re already living with someone of my advanced years, you obviously don’t share my reservations.’

‘I am not living with Alex,’ she seethed in denial.

‘You’re simply good friends, right?’ He slanted her a sceptical look.

Tory wanted to slap him. She longed to. She’d never had such a violent urge before.

‘Oh, think what you like!’ She finally snapped. ‘Only don’t take it out on Alex.’

‘Meaning?’ Dark brows lifted.

‘Meaning: you may fancy me—’ she continued angrily.

A deep, mocking laugh interrupted her. ‘English understatement, I love it. I don’t just fancy you, Miss Lloyd. I want you. I desire you. I’d like to—’

‘Okay, I’ve got the picture,’ she cut across him before he became any more explicit. ‘But that’s not my fault or Alex’s. I haven’t encouraged you. If this affects our positions at Eastwich—’

‘You’ll scream sexual harassment?’ His eyes hardened.

Tory scowled in return. He was putting words in her mouth that weren’t there. ‘I wasn’t saying that.’

‘Good, because I’ve told you before,’ he growled back, ‘I am quite capable of separating my private life and my position as Chief Executive of Eastwich… If I decide to fire Simpson, you can be sure it’ll be for a better reason than the fact he’s currently sharing your bed.’

‘He isn’t!’ Tory protested once more, only to draw a cynical glance that made her finally lose it. ‘To hell with this! You’re right, of course. Alex and I are lovers. In fact, we’re at it like rabbits. Night and day. Every spare moment,’ she ran on wildly. ‘We can’t keep our hands off each other.’

It silenced him, but only briefly before he drawled back, ‘Now who’s being crude?’

‘It’s called irony,’ she countered.

‘All right, so if you and Simpson aren’t lovers…’ he surmised aloud.

‘Give the man a coconut,’ she muttered under her breath.

He ignored her, finishing, ‘Prove it!’

‘Prove it?’ she echoed in exasperation. ‘And how am I meant to do that—set up a surveillance camera in my bedroom?’

‘That would hardly cover it,’ he responded coolly. ‘Some couples rarely make it to the bedroom. I prefer outdoor sex myself. How about you?’

Tory didn’t have to feign shock at an involuntary vision of a couple entwined in long grass under a blue sky. Not just any couple, either.

She shut her eyes to censor the image and heard his deep drawl continue, ‘Not that I was suggesting it as an immediate option. A date will do, initially.’

Tory’s eyes snapped open again. ‘A date?’

‘You know—’ he smiled as if he could see inside her head ‘—boy asks girl out. Girl says yes. They go to a restaurant or the movies. Boy takes girl home. If he’s lucky, he gets to kiss her. If he’s very lucky, he gets to—’

‘Yes, all right,’ she snapped before he could warm any more to the theme. ‘You’re asking me on a date?’

‘That was the general idea,’ he confirmed.

‘To prove I’m not slee—having an affair with Alex?’ Her tone told him how absurd she thought it.

‘It isn’t conclusive,’ he admitted. ‘But if you were my woman, I wouldn’t let another man get too close. I reckon Alex Simpson will feel the same way.’

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