His Permanent Mistress: Mistress Under Contract

CHAPTER FOUR

You think that rational analysis is the best approach in all situations

LUCY woke early after another restless night. She hated listening to the sound of others sleep. Always had. Even boyfriends. In fact she preferred her lovers to leave late in the night, giving her a few hours’ uninterrupted attempted sleep time—alone, in silence and safety. Insomnia sucked.

Years of boarding-school had been a torment. Space and security were what she’d love. But the hostel in central Wellington was never going to offer either. A zillion backpackers made sure of that. She dragged herself out of bed, wishing sleep came easy. She’d had a fantastic dream at one point. Very fantastic. She’d been in the arms of one big, strong male and loving it. Then his features had firmed into those of her new employer. Daniel. Right at that moment three English girls had arrived loudly in the room. Good thing too. Explicit dreams about Mr Lawyer should not be happening. No way. He was so straight. So wrong. Not her type at all. But he made a suit more attractive than she’d ever have thought possible. And having him feature in her dreams was infinitely preferable to the shadowy figure who still haunted her periodically—turning her sleep time into terror time.

Fighting off the fuzzy features, the fuzzy memories that she’d never be able to fully recollect, she saw the queue for the bathroom in the hall and abandoned the idea of showering there. Pulling on her jeans and a tee, she grabbed her bikini together with her towel and toilet bag, stuffing them into her backpack. She wound her unruly mess of hair into a loose knot on the top of her head and quickly tripped down the stairs and out to the street below.

On the waterside of Wellington stood a fabulous swimming pool. An indoor haven for government workers and hip students wanting a complete workout. Lucy didn’t really want to work out. She liked to walk along the waterfront but you’d never catch her running along it like the Lycra-clad bunnies and yummy mummies jogging with their baby buggies. Swimming, however, was different—a pleasure, a relaxant. Splashing in warm water, striking out with her arms and legs, the silky feeling of her hair as it fanned out. She loved the freedom of feeling her body floating—weightless, worriless. She could spend hours in a pool and often had. It was her second favourite thing next to dancing.

She scrabbled in her pocket for enough coins to gain entry to the pool, darted to the women’s facilities, stepped out of her clothes and into her bikini. She didn’t bother putting her bag in an automated locker—it wasn’t as if she had anything of value to worry about losing. Her goggles hung loosely from her wrist and she padded barefoot to the poolside, dropping her bag on the bottom row of spectator seating. Swimming lanes were set up and general speed signs posted. On the far side a couple of men were striking out with great pace. Relentlessly they traversed the length of the pool, turning and heading back again, time after time, no pause for breath or thought. Like a duel they were chasing each other, one going up as the other came down the pool, and for a second she wondered who was chasing whom. They were a sight, with their strong arms powering through the water with ease, their faces obscured by the close-fitting goggles and the spray of the water. She shook her head a little to let her hair tumble free and then she quickly twisted it into a plait. Untied, the plait would work loose in the water after a few lengths, but that was part of the feeling of freedom she enjoyed.

The middle lanes were slightly more crowded—a greater number of average-speed swimmers. She chose the one with the fewest number of swimmers. Waiting for the last swimmer to be a decent distance she dived in, loving that split second between jump and splash where for that instant she pretended she was a dolphin diving in delight.

She swam a few lengths and after a time paused at the end for some deep breaths and time to float. The blood pumped through her body and she felt alive again—despite that lack of sleep. She stretched out her arms, laughing at herself. The number of times she’d gone to a day’s work on little or no sleep must surely be in the hundreds, but it had never seemed to matter before. Today was different. Today she didn’t just want to do her job, she wanted to do a good job.

She trod water at the deep end, checking the time on the clock, and replaited her hair. Then she struck out again for the far end, and with every stroke she tried to think about the club. For once in her life she was determined to do well. She wanted to prove she could—to Mr Type A himself. He’d given her the chance but perversely seemed doubtful she’d be able to pull it off. Well, she’d show him. And it was to Daniel that her thoughts turned time and time again. Instead of drink orders and duty rosters it was the man with the golden eyes. His height and physique thrilled her but those golden eyes threatened to be her undoing. If she wasn’t careful they’d see right through her. Her aggression channelled into adrenalin and energy and she swam harder and faster than she had in ages. She tried to swim him out of her mind, forcing her focus back to the job again and again but failing each time. After a few more lengths, another couple of plaits, she was breathless and ready to get on with her day. She didn’t want to be late. She reached up with her hands and with a push heaved herself up to sit on the edge of the pool, waiting for most of the water to slide from her body before she’d step over to her towel-covered bag.

She glanced along the pool and saw only one of the super-fast swimmers was still in the water, still stretching out with seemingly endless energy towards her end of the pool. She turned away towards her bag and stopped. There was a large expanse of bronzed, broad chest in her way. She blinked and looked up.

Golden eyes danced. Were they hazel or brown? Really she couldn’t quite decide—either way the amber lights were incredible. She didn’t think she’d ever seen such a colour before and they were most definitely wasted on a man.

Man.

Daniel.

Right in front of her and all but naked. Her jaw dropped. She knew it did and she tried to do something about it but the ability to make even that tiny movement seemed to have been stolen from her. Stolen by the five-hundred-per-cent male, male, male obscuring her path.

He was staring down at her. All of her. He wasn’t smiling. Nor was he saying anything. And she felt the path of his gaze as if it had been his finger grazing her skin. Every slow inch he covered burned.

In, out. In, out.

That was how you breathed, wasn’t it? Basic instructions to calm the shell-shocked brain. Except she was suddenly thinking about something else going in and out and what would it be like to have that body all about…?

Not good.

He looked up at her face and she tried to hide the saucy thoughts from his all-too-observant eyes. How long had they been standing there staring at each other like that? It had felt like eons but she hoped time had done one of those weird blips that it did every now and then—when what felt like hours had really only been seconds. Milli, mini, itty, bitty. Just like her bikini.

‘Hi.’ She might have smiled if he weren’t looking so serious.

‘What are you doing?’

Man, he was direct. Bordering on rude. And he made her feel as if she were doing something bad—just by his tone. She’d hate to be on the witness stand with him on the cross-examination team.

‘Roasting peanuts. What do you think?’ OK. Maybe it wasn’t the best way to start the day with her new boss, but really.

Those gold flecks in his eyes sharpened. ‘You like them dry roasted?’

‘Yeah, with lots of salt.’

‘I prefer mine honey coated.’

Well, bully for him. She grimaced. She bet he had a million wee honey-coated peanuts in his little black book.

‘You swim for exercise?’ His gaze quickly skimmed over her again.

‘I swim because I like it.’ Despite the fact he had the knack for getting her back up faster than anyone she’d ever known, he also had the ability to turn her on faster than anyone too—just like that. Just by standing there, too close. Too naked.

She felt mightily glad he had that towel draped round his waist. The mental images in her mind were dangerous enough. Speedos or shorts? Her brain presented a slide show of the various options. As the water trickled off him, she tried really hard not to watch the path of each droplet down the honed muscles. Whoever would have imagined the body he had going on under that shirt and tie? Incredibly broad shoulders, tight pecs and a light scattering of chest hair that traced down the defined six-pack abs and disappeared below the towel, an arrow leading to…well.

The silence had been a little long again so she jerked her attention back to his face instead of his body and broke it. ‘You swim for fitness?’

He nodded. ‘Always have. Used to compete. I swim here every morning and sometimes I swim in the outdoor pool near my work on my lunch break.’ That explained the smooth golden tan that showed off those muscles. She didn’t think he’d have the time for much sunbathing. She was impressed he actually took a lunch break. Then again, look what he did with it—worked out.

Competitive swimmer. Competitive lawyer. Over-achiever. No doubt about it, this guy was driven. And here she was wearing only the tiny bikini her sister had given her over summer. Her one item of designer clothing—a gorgeous hibiscus floral fabric cut in a way to flatter. Probably not standard indoor-pool attire if the serious one-pieces around were any indication.

‘I’ve never competed. I just like being in the water.’ She checked out the shoulders again. ‘You were swimming in the fast lane, I guess?’

He nodded. Yeah. He would’ve been one of the two battling it out.

‘You?’

‘Oh, you know. Slow lane. Nice and easy.’

She was selling herself short. OK style. Outrageous swimsuit. Daniel had spotted that flower-covered bikini stretching out up and down the pool. She had a good technique. She had a great body.

Daniel had had many an exhausting session in the pool but he’d never felt breathless the way he did that very moment. He felt mightily glad he had that towel draped around his waist. Clinging wet swim shorts weren’t much of a covering and with her standing so close like that his body threatened to show its appreciation of that bikini in the most basic way.

But he knew that already. The jeans and singlet top from yesterday had shown him that. But was it ever magnified today in the scraps of material clinging to her now. That bikini belonged on the beach. Preferably a private one with just him for company and a couple of refreshing drinks because, oh, boy, were they going to need them after…

He blinked. He wasn’t having an erotic fantasy in the middle of a public pool, was he? He blinked again. Yes. Impossible not to when confronted with the vision of temptation before him right now. Her hair hung down her back in a loosely coiled thick wet rope. It gleamed darker when wet. As he’d suspected the day before, the tan was all-over-body. And the body was ripe—lush curves that threatened to spill out over the bikini bra cups. Soft rounded flesh peaked to hard nipples. He knew they were only budded from the cold of the water, but they were begging for a hot mouth to cover them, draw them in and tease them. His.

Frowning, he looked down, determined to shake this surge of inappropriate lust. No cowboy boots this time. Instead he saw perfectly painted toenails. Vixen red. Now that was appropriate.

He needed to get this conversation back on an even keel. ‘I’m going in to the office but I’ll see you at the club later.’

‘Sure. I’ll be there with bells on.’

That wasn’t an image he needed right now. Not when he saw her decorated with tacky Christmas bell earrings on and nothing else.

He hesitated. ‘You’re OK to get back home?’

‘Of course. You’re going straight to work from here?’ She looked surprised. Well, it was only coming up seven a.m. now.

He shook his head. ‘No, I live on the parade. I always get a coffee at the café halfway along, then head home to change and get to work.’ He didn’t know where the suggestion came from; all he knew it was out of his mouth before he’d had the chance to think and keep it shut. ‘Why don’t you come with me and talk me through your plan of attack for the club?’ He added a final bit to ensure he was coming on the boss, not just coming on. ‘I’m assuming you’ve made some plans and have more ideas since last night?’

‘Of course. I have a list to get on with today.’ She wasn’t looking at all comfortable. He realised she was still dripping wet and hadn’t even had the chance to wrap her towel around her. Hell. He was stalling so he could check her out some more in that glorious bikini. Big mistake. Lust city was not his destination this week. He had a case to work and an obligation to fulfil for his cousin.

Mind you, she was hardly snapping up his offer. If anything she looked threatened. Why? She fidgeted—definitely uncomfortable. What was she hiding?

‘Come on. Go get dressed. I’ll get you a coffee. You look like you could use it.’

Her colour had drained, leaving her looking tired. More than a little intrigued, he gave her no chance to refuse. ‘I’ll meet you out the front in twenty minutes.’

She surprised him by being there in fifteen. He’d anticipated she’d be twenty minimum. But, no, she strode out of the change room only a second after he’d exited the men’s. Her hair, still damp, hung in wild waves down her back. He’d said he preferred a more combed look. He’d lied. His fingers itched to rake through the mass, he ached to feel the strands trail across his face.

Her equilibrium appeared to be restored and the edgy look was back in her eyes. The look that said, Cross me and I’ll have something to say about it. He liked to cross—he liked the sparring they’d had so far. Chin high, she raised her brows at him. Accepting her challenge, he turned and headed towards the door, expecting her to walk with him. She did. Satisfaction kicked. Adrenalin burned.

He stretched out at his usual pace—fast. He liked to know where he was going and he liked to get there. Her legs were moving faster, he couldn’t help the sidelong glance to check the way her hips swayed in the tight denim. ‘I’m not going too fast for you, am I?’

‘Generally I prefer to take things a little easier, but I can keep up.’ She shot him a look. ‘I know you’re busy.’

He answered at face value, pretending to ignore the little dig. ‘Time is precious. Often I have my dictaphone with me and work on the walk.’

‘A multitasking man?’ she gushed. ‘You amaze me.’

He grinned. ‘Oh, I have a lot of talents.’

‘I’m sure you do.’

The morning was bright and clear. The sun spread in sparkles on the water, the wind was non-existent and Daniel felt invigorated. He held the door for her at the café. She walked through it as if she’d never expected anything else. Matching him for putting on arrogant appearances.

‘Coffee?’

‘Thank you. Double, black, three sugars.’

He inclined his head and turned to the counter, his face cracking into the broadest grin as soon as he was out of her eyesight. Loose cannon. Utterly. He placed her order and his: triple shot, no sugar—nuclear amounts of caffeine to keep the tired bug at bay.

She sat in the front window of the café and stared out the window. Outwardly one might think she hadn’t been aware of his approaching return, but Daniel was studying her hard and saw her shoulders tighten, saw the way she held her fingers tightly, and then he saw she wasn’t staring out the window at all. She was staring at the reflection of him in the glass. He caught her gaze full on in the mirror-like pane. Gold meeting green. His pace slowed as he neared. Relentless observation, rising temperature.

When he set the cups down it shattered the moment. She turned away from the window and graced him with one of those sharp-edged smiles that assumed politeness. As if that searing stare had never happened.

He sat across from her.

She spoke. ‘So what do you want to know?’

Everything. What she was thinking—about him especially. Raw attraction hung like an invisible fog between them. Did she see it too?

‘Will you be able to pull it off?’

‘Yes. I’m meeting with supply reps this morning and have called the bar crew in for a meeting this afternoon. I’ll sort the DJs once I’ve spoken with the staff. The rest of the clean-up can be done by the team. Once we’re restocked we’ll be good to go. Then it’s a matter of a little promo.’

‘Promotion? You don’t have much time.’

‘The most important thing is word of mouth. If I can get the word into a few select ears, then we won’t have any problem.’

‘And can you?’

She smiled, slow and ultra-confident. ‘Sure.’

CHAPTER FIVE

You constantly monitor progress

DANIEL’S office had a sweeping view across New Zealand’s seat of power—the parliamentary buildings that stood across the road from the highest court in the country, and one of the finest law schools a quick step down the block. In that small radius, law was developed, made and upheld. And he felt right at home there. But today he could hardly wait to bust a move and head to the other side—where eclectic clothing stores lined up with funky cafés and hip clubs. Where the cool, cosmopolitan crowd from the film and fashion industries hung out—eating, drinking, dancing.

He didn’t get there anywhere near as soon as he would have liked. Meetings dragged and unexpected developments trapped him in the office. It was late into the afternoon when he finally walked down the main street towards the club. The sign said ‘closed’ but the door stood ajar. He heard Lucy’s voice as he climbed the stairs. He slowed so he could listen for a while before she was aware of his presence.

‘What I want is professionalism. I know things have been slack since Lara left but all that changes right now. You saw what happened to the old manager this week. You’ll be next if you don’t lift your game. Uniform—black. Make the most of whatever assets you have but not too unsubtle—we’re not a strip club. Look good but tidy. It’s all about attitude—but by attitude I don’t mean grumpy. We want to keep the customers happy, not turn them off with unsmiling, pouty looks. A little flirty is OK. This is a bar, people. Punters are here for a good time and a little action. Let’s get them in the mood by getting them their drink quickly, and with flair. And quickly is the most important. At the end of the day we want to make money.’

Attitude, huh? Well, she’d know all about that. He smirked at the grumpy comment. He wished the staff had seen her at the pool this morning. He reached the top of the stairs and turned into the bar. Four workers were lined up behind the bar and in front of them stood a selection of drinks—shots, cocktails, a pint of beer. He saw all that in a nanosecond. He couldn’t stop his focus closing in on her.

She stood on the punters’ side of the bar, legs slightly spread, weight evenly distributed. Jeans again—emphasising the curves that had Daniel fantasising. By all appearances she’d been putting them through their paces. Either that or they were all about to get blind drunk together. ‘Last example. Something for the drivers—lemon, lime and bitters.’

They moved at once getting glasses and mixing the drink.

The way she wore those jeans should be illegal. The combination of curvy and length was killing him. He wanted to peel the denim off her and wrap those tanned pins around his waist.

‘Always ask if they would prefer to drink straight from the bottle or in a glass. Many women like to keep the bottle and the cap these days.’

His ears pricked. An interesting point given the case he was working on.

He looked over the staff. Two men, two women. All of them good-looking. The buffest guy dropped the glass and it smashed on the ground. He threw Lucy a look of horror. Daniel’s lips twitched; she certainly had put the fear into him.

‘Sorry, L-Lucy,’ the buff guy stammered.

Lucy turned and saw he was watching. A sarcastic curl to her lips let him in on her secret laughter. He sent her a small smile back and tried to ignore the sweet feeling of conspiracy. He’d spent all his time so far verbally jousting with her and the idea of them sharing something other than conflict felt surprisingly good.

‘Don’t worry, Corey. It won’t take you long to get to grips with it all.’

Who was she kidding? The guy could hardly string a sentence together. Daniel’s hackles rose as Corey flashed Lucy a killer smile and she smiled right back.

‘OK, people.’ She turned and pointed to him. ‘This is Daniel—he’s the one who shut the place down last week and he won’t hesitate to do it again, leaving us all penniless. So let’s be nice to him and do a good job.’

Four pairs of big eyes warily looked him over. He stared back at them, poker-style. He’d spent too many days in court seeing off gang guys to feel much heat from a couple of beautiful bartenders. Lucy spoke again, giving more direction, and he took the opportunity to wander about and take in her changes. Every window was open and on the sills he saw some candles lit under oil burners. He walked over to one and sniffed. Yes. That was her—a warm, faintly exotic spice smell. He smelt it in her hair, her skin. He wondered if all of her was as delicately scented.

When he turned around the others were exiting, avoiding his eye. Lucy strolled over towards him.

He pulled his steamy thoughts in. ‘Thanks for the warm introduction.’

‘Someone has to be bad cop.’

‘I’d have thought you’d enjoy that.’

‘Oh, no. I’m always good.’

Sure she was.

‘You really think that guy’s capable of doing this job?’ He nodded his head after Corey, who’d been last to leave after sweeping away what ominously looked like more than one dropped glass.

‘Daniel, he can carry crates and he looks good.’

‘It’s all about looks?’

She rolled her eyes. ‘Of course. Everybody likes to look at something beautiful.’

‘Not everybody sees beauty in the same thing.’

‘Don’t worry. He’s going to please a lot of our customers. And he can actually make a good cocktail.’ She had a smile on her face that he didn’t like. What was it about that guy that had her drooling? ‘We get the customers in the bar, they have beautiful quick service and good music. If the vibe is good, they’ll stay and pay.’