Temporary Mistress: Mistress for a Weekend / Mistress on Demand / Public Wife, Private Mistress

Chapter Three

‘LET me guess…the former friend who mistakes fashion for style?’ Blake MacLeod murmured, tracking her gaze.

Nora felt a spurt of spiteful amusement as she turned her eyes squarely back to her companion and his impeccably understated elegance.

‘His name is Ryan.’

‘Is he important?’ The supercilious tilt of his eyebrows was a masterly put-down.

Nora smiled brilliantly. ‘Not anymore.’

She raised her glass to her lips and was dismayed to see her hand tremble.

It was too much to hope for that the sharp-eyed man she was with wouldn’t notice it, too. His eyes flickered down the slender length of her arm and his face turned to stone. ‘Are you afraid of him?’ he asked quietly.

‘Ryan? No, of course not!’ she scorned. He had already done his worst and she had survived.

‘Did he beat you?’

‘Only at squash—I always creamed him at chess and Scrabble!’ she replied flippantly.

His expression remained guarded. ‘Then how did you get these?’ he said, lightly touching his fingertips to the fresh bruises on the inside of her forearm, blotchy shadows blooming through the smooth, translucent skin.

The tiny sizzle that accompanied his touch made her senses scatter. ‘What? Oh…I banged my arm against a doorknob at home this afternoon,’ she recalled reluctantly. It had been the bathroom door she had been backing out of—her eyes screwed shut against the sight of the guilty pair in the bathtub, scrabbling to separate themselves. The sharp jolt of physical pain in her arm had been a welcome distraction from the agony of her disillusionment as Ryan had followed her, dragging a towel around his hips, blustering in self-defensive anger, turning the blame for his behaviour back on to Nora.

‘You walked into a door?’ Blake said with blunt scepticism. ‘Do you realise what a stereotypical answer that is?’

Her eyes widened as she realised that he was seriously concerned that she might be a battered woman. ‘But I really did,’ she protested. ‘I would never let a man get away with being abusive towards me.’

‘I thought they looked like fingermarks,’ he murmured, aligning his fingers over the blue-brown smudges.

‘Well, they’re not. I have very sensitive skin. Bruises always show up quickly, looking worse than they are.’

The sight of his lean tanned fingers lying against her skin made her mouth go dry and her body throb with awareness. The contrast between his sinewy brown hand and her delicate paleness seemed starkly erotic. She couldn’t believe that a stranger’s touch could have such a dramatic impact. On the other hand, she had never before opened herself up to the possibility that another man could arouse her with a mere look, a touch…

She watched as he slowly splayed his hand, gently encircling her arm in a bracelet of warm flesh. She shivered.

‘Cold?’ he asked, in a knowing voice that said he knew very well what had caused her reaction.

Her eyelids felt heavy, weighted down by lashes as she lifted them to meet his gaze. ‘It is rather cool up here.’ She uttered the bald-faced lie in the nature of a challenge.

His lips and eyebrows quirked. ‘Perhaps the altitude doesn’t suit you.’

She wished he hadn’t reminded her! ‘Or maybe it’s the fact that I’m more exposed than usual,’ she said, with a hitch of one dappled shoulder.

‘Would you like me to put my jacket around you?’ he offered.

Nora’s hectic emotions translated the private gesture of courtesy into a primitive act of public possession.

‘No, you keep it,’ she said huskily. ‘I wouldn’t like you to catch a chill.’

‘I don’t think there’s any fear of that.’ His thumb moved on her arm, sliding over the rounded inner curve of her elbow. ‘I’m very warm-blooded.’

Her own spurted hotly in her veins. ‘That’s not what I’ve heard.’

‘And do you always believe everything you’re told?’ he taunted.

Her pupils contracted to narrow dots, the only sign of her inward flinch. ‘I used to.’ She couldn’t help glancing over to where she had seen Ryan. ‘Now I prefer to rely on more tangible evidence.’

Blake’s hand left her arm to tilt her head firmly back in his direction, demanding her full attention. ‘Very wise. How hungry are you?’

She blinked at his non sequitur. ‘I beg your pardon?’

‘You said you haven’t had dinner and, as it happens, neither have I. What say we blow this joint and find a restaurant that can serve us within the next half-hour?’

Blow this joint? His mocking slang made it sound invitingly dangerous, with the added bonus of allowing her to avoid any painful encounters with Ryan.

‘But what about the party—?’ she stammered, not sure whether he was joking.

‘In a crowd this size, one or two less isn’t going to matter.’

One or two? Did that mean that he intended leaving, with or without Nora? She felt a stab of disappointment, followed by a fresh surge of reckless determination. When she had singled him out in her sights she had had no idea where her flirtation would lead, or how far she was prepared to take her rash experiment. She still didn’t know, but her fear and uncertainty was all part of the intoxicating excitement that jetted through her as she contemplated her next move.

‘They might not notice my disappearance, but you’re a lot higher up the scale of importance,’ she felt compelled to point out.

A world of natural arrogance was expressed in his shrug. ‘I’ve done my duty. I came. Waved the PresCorp flag in the necessary faces. Kissed the birthday girl and gave her a gift. More than enough to satisfy Scotty’s festering social conscience. Now I’m back on my own time.’

It took her a moment to realise who he meant by ‘Scotty’.

‘You only came because Sir Prescott Williams asked you to?’

‘The word "ask" implies choice. Prescott is far too shrewd to offer options that won’t deliver his preferred outcome,’ he replied drily. ‘He knows exactly how and where to apply pressure. He’s an expert in getting his own way.’

‘Somehow I can’t quite picture you as anyone’s helpless pawn. You don’t look like a man who enjoys taking orders.’

He threw back the last of his drink and acknowledged her tart remark with an insinuating smile. ‘On the contrary, if I perceive a mutual benefit I can be extremely accommodating.’

His soft purr hinted at all sorts of intriguing wickedness. ‘Are you saying you’d let me order you around?’ she said, forbidden images swirling up from the unplumbed depths of her mind.

‘Well, not here, obviously—I do have my ruthless image to protect,’ he mocked, playing to the shocked curiosity that flared across her face, fascinated by the contradiction between the smouldering passion of those sultry painted eyes and the astringent freshness of her unpredictable personality. It was a long time since Blake had been surprised by anyone or anything. ‘Perhaps I’ll let you order for me in the restaurant, as a start…’

‘Restaurant?’ In her flurry of wild imaginings she had forgotten the original question.

‘You’d rather wait and eat here?’ He looked down into his empty glass, masking his expression as he mused, ‘Maybe you’re right. Even if you’re not lucky enough to be assigned a window-seat, once everyone sits down you’ll have an uninterrupted view from whichever table you’re at, reminding you with every bite that you’re in a nine-storey building perched atop a concrete shaft around three hundred metres high but only a bare twelve metres in diameter…’

Nora’s stomach did a sickening loop-the-loop, a fine dew springing out on her brow.

‘…whereas the restaurant I have in mind is only a quiet ground-floor place around the corner from the casino,’ he continued smoothly. ‘Good food, but one step down from the street…with absolutely no view—’

‘Actually, that sounds rather nice,’ Nora gulped, clutching gratefully at the dangled safety-line. ‘Let’s go there.’

Only when the words were out of her mouth did she realise what she had committed herself to, and her stomach performed another crazy loop, this time of excitement. Somehow, she had beguiled one of the city’s most cynical bachelors into taking her out to dinner!

He gave her no chance to change her mind. ‘Do you need to make any farewells, or do you want to just melt away?’

She should at least exchange a few words with Patty, her former flatmate, and thank her for the invitation. ‘Well, I—’

Suddenly, out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ryan and felt a sharp spike of panic.

‘Melting would be good,’ she said quickly. ‘Melting is very good—as long as we do it right away.’

If Blake was startled by the rough urgency of her tone he didn’t show it. ‘Don’t you want to finish your drink?’ he murmured, half turning to put down his empty glass.

Ryan’s face was now a nasty white blot on the periphery of Nora’s vision. Had he seen her yet?

Her overwrought imagination bubbled with horrifying scenarios. What if Ryan wanted to appease his guilty conscience with more shattering revelations? What if he decided that by approaching her in public he could compel her to listen to what he had to say?

Ryan knew how much she disliked being the centre of attention—he would be relying on it to prevent her from making a scene. He could be doggedly persistent and remarkably ingratiating when it served his own interests. He was even capable, she thought wildly, of following her from the party and turning Blake MacLeod’s desirable companion into a dreary woman scorned!

She held out her drink. ‘No, thanks, it’s gone warm anyway—’

As Blake turned back, a group of chattering people pushed past behind Nora and she was shunted forward. The arm she had extended jerked, the contents of her glass splattering in an arc over Blake’s jacket and tie and plastering a fist-sized patch of his shirt to his chest.

There was a stunned pause.

‘Oh, God, I’m most terribly sorry!’ Nora brushed ineffectually at the splashes on his lapel, which had instantly soaked into the pale sheen of the fabric.

‘There’s no need to apologise,’ he said, taking away her empty glass and handing it to a sympathetic bystander, ‘if it wasn’t your fault.’

‘Those people bumped against me,’ she explained, sure her guilt must be written in fire across her forehead.

He looked at her from under his lowered brow. ‘So I saw…’

‘One of them must have jogged my arm,’ she added unnecessarily.

‘I suppose I should be grateful that you weren’t drinking the Cabernet Sauvignon,’ he commented with wry resignation, taking a white linen handkerchief out of his breast pocket and blotting at himself.

If she had been drinking red wine she would never have had the courage to do it! she thought, but desperate situations had called for desperate measures. ‘I don’t think it’ll stain if you rinse it out immediately.’

‘This suit is made of silk,’ he pointed out.

He didn’t need to add that it was very expensive Italianstyled silk. Nora had already guessed that it had probably cost more than her top-of-the-line office laptop.

‘Oh, dear!’ She bit her lip. ‘And so is your beautiful tie,’ she commiserated. ‘If you don’t want to risk them being permanently marked you really do need to do something as soon as possible…’

He dabbed at the splotches on his tie. ‘What would you suggest?’

Her mouth went dry and she deliberately pitched her voice low to disguise her jittery tension. ‘Well…we were leaving anyway, and you said you have a suite at the hotel. Why don’t we go there and you can phone the concierge? I’m sure the hotel offers an emergency dry-cleaning service…’

His hand stilled.

‘I’m sure they do,’ he said, looking into her wide innocent eyes. ‘If you’re certain you don’t mind taking the detour?’

She swallowed, fighting down a blush. ‘No, no, not at all. You can’t go to the restaurant like that. I’d feel dreadful if you risked ruining your suit because of me.’

It was all she could do not to hustle him along as they began to move across the revolving floor. Unfortunately their progress was slowed by people who sought to waylay Blake, and it was several minutes before they finally made it up the steps to the reception area by the lift bay. In the meantime a furtive glance over her shoulder showed her Ryan’s startled face, mooning at her from the crowd as he set out on an intersecting course.

Nora stalked towards the glass doors, only to find herself stayed by Blake’s polite command.

‘If you wait here, I’ll collect your coat and umbrella.’

‘Oh, but—’ She found herself talking to empty air. She would gladly have abandoned the wretched things for the sake of a quick getaway. Stranded on elevated ground, she had no place to hide when the unwelcome voice sounded behind her.

‘Nora? Nora—I know you saw me. I can’t believe you’re here! Thank goodness you’re all right!’

She turned reluctantly, plastering a look of surprise on her face. ‘I was invited, remember? Why shouldn’t I be here? Why are you?’

Ryan mounted the last step, his even features bearing a tentative conciliating smile. ‘Well, we’d accepted the invitation. I thought at least one of us should come, and I didn’t think that you’d make it all the way up here by yourself. You were so upset when you took off from the flat, I didn’t know what to think! We were worried about you…’

He dared mention Kelly? As if either of them had cared a fig about her feelings when they were wallowing in her bath!

She stared haughtily down at him, unimpressed by his attempt to smooth things over. She had always seen him as a lovable, cuddly teddy bear—with his curly blond hair, button-bright blue eyes, square jaw and stocky physique. Now she could see his brash charm was a threadbare illusion, the careless affection with which he had captured her dreams no substitute for genuine passion.

‘Well, you needn’t have—as you can see, I’m fine,’ she said abruptly. He must have remembered the system profiles that she had been creating for his current project, beavering away in her spare time for weeks so that Ryan could gain extra kudos from his boss—who also happened to be Kelly’s uncle!

His eyes were puzzled as they travelled over her, trying to work out what was different—so different—about her. Finally it clicked and he looked down.

‘My God, Nora, where on earth did you get those ridiculous shoes? You’ll likely break your neck in them. Besides, they make you look like a beanpole.’

A few hours ago she might have meekly agreed with him, but Nora’s blood was up.

‘Look, Ryan, I’d love to stand around and chat all night,’ she said with heavy sarcasm, ‘but as it happens I have better things to do.’

His patronising confidence said he didn’t believe her. What could be more important to Nora than the man she had been mooning over since she was twenty?

‘Give me a break, Nora,’ he appealed, producing the wheedling little-lost-boy smile that she used to think was adorable. ‘We need to talk. You didn’t give me time to explain what I meant this afternoon. I never wanted to hurt you, you know, Nora—’

‘Then you shouldn’t have slept with my flatmate!’ she said icily.

‘We all make mistakes, Nora. We’ve known each other for years. I’d still like us to be friends, especially since we work at the same place—’

Of course he would, because then he could continue to tap into her specialised talent to enhance his own career. When he had been at university and she had been working in the technology lab, he had noticed her unrequited crush and persuaded her to give him free tutoring to help him pass his computer and statistics papers. As well as helping him out with research she had also typed up his assignments and edited the bad grammar and fuzzy logic out of his essays, all for the sake of a few platonic hugs and kisses and the privilege of being accepted into his magic circle of friends. And five years later she was still helping him to make a good impression at the expense of her own needs.

‘I’ve decided it’s time I graduated to a better class of friend.’

He laid a heavy hand on her wrist. ‘Come on, Eleanor, you don’t mean that,’ he said thinly. ‘Everyone makes mistakes.’

‘Yes, and you were mine,’ she said, clinging to her self-control.

His hand tightened. ‘If it wasn’t for me you’d still be stuck in some dreary little cubicle somewhere—’

‘Ready to go, Nora?’ The deep voice resonated in her bones and with a start she realised that Blake MacLeod was standing behind her, holding out her open coat. Instead of feeling embarrassed at what he might have overheard, Nora was emboldened by his solid strength at her back.

Ryan’s hand fell from her arm, his jaw going slack as he focused on the man taking her bag while he helped her into her coat. ‘You’re leaving with him?’

‘I told you I had better things to do.’ It gave her a malicious pleasure to say.

He didn’t appear to hear her, hastily extending his hand to take advantage of the unexpected encounter. ‘Uh, Mr MacLeod, we haven’t met, but of course I know who you are—I’m Ryan Trent—’

To Nora’s delight Blake ignored the eagerly outstretched hand, returning her bag and hooking her umbrella over his arm so that he could adjust the collar of her coat, his knuckles brushing with gentle deliberation along the tense line of her jaw.

‘I have in mind something far more succulent for you to sink your teeth into,’ he told her with shameless eroticism, pressing his thumb against the swollen lower lip she had been unconsciously abusing. ‘I hope you’re still as hungry as I am…’

‘More,’ she said throatily, falling in with his baiting game, her teeth briefly grating against his salty thumb which he withdrew to place between his lips.

Tasting her. His tongue flicked out, a provocative dart that only she could see, and suddenly it was no longer a game.

‘Shall we?’ he murmured, placing his flat hand low on her back, and Nora went warm all over, steaming up the inside of her coat.

‘Eleanor!’ Ryan’s shocked voice held the hint of an aggrieved whine as she began to move. ‘I thought we were going to talk—’

‘Some other time, Ryan,’ she tossed out carelessly. ‘And, oh!’ She paused beside him, savouring the advantage of her dominating height. ‘I never noticed it before, Ryan, but maybe you should see someone about that thinning patch on the top of your head—it’s a classic sign of premature male-pattern baldness…’

She sashayed on by, leaving Ryan, his hand smoothing uneasily over his crown, staring after them, his face a blotchy rash of angry colour.

‘Beautiful,’ said Blake in admiration as they sauntered out through the glass door, and Nora knew he wasn’t talking about her. ‘Is he really going bald?’ he asked as he summoned the lift.

‘If there’s any justice in the world. Ryan’s very vain about his hair. He’ll drive himself crazy worrying about it.’

‘Probably feel insecure about it for the rest of his life.’ The shiny metal doors hissed open and he indicated with the umbrella for her to precede him. ‘You’re clearly a dangerous woman to cross.’

She liked the sound of that. Even the hint of laughter in his voice couldn’t dent her triumphant confidence as she stepped over the threshold. ‘Yes, I am.’

‘In that case I’ll be careful to stay on your good side,’ he said, following her in. ‘Which is it, left or right?’

The wet patch on his shirt was low over his heart, the white cotton sticking transparently to his olive skin, showing the fine tangle of black hair on his chest. She thought she could also see his bronzed nipple, but she wasn’t sure whether it was just a shadow of a curl.

‘Nora?’

‘Hmm?’ Her coat rustled as she started guiltily, gesturing towards his open jacket. ‘I’m awfully sorry about what happened with the wine,’ she said, barely registering the sound of the door sliding shut, enclosing them in a hush of privacy.

He shrugged, dragging the dampened shirt taut across his skin. ‘I’m not; it saved me from a slow drowning in a sea of social platitudes.’ Definitely a nipple, thought Nora dizzily, feeling like a sleazy voyeur for noticing.

‘Since it’s still raining outside, and we’re going to the suite anyway, perhaps you’d prefer to relax there and order dinner from the room service menu,’ he continued, pressing the button for the ground floor and turning to face her.

Nora’s breathing quickened under his quizzical gaze. They both knew there was nothing innocent about his casual offer. It had not escaped him that she had virtually invited herself to his room, and now he was politely testing the waters, asking her to clarify her expectations in terms that a virtuous young lady was safe to misinterpret.

He was letting her know that all she had to do was refuse and the rest of the evening would be conducted under the conventional rules of propriety—a pleasant meal in a public restaurant, a light flirtation…final outcome: uncertain.

But Nora wasn’t feeling virtuous or conventional. She knew that there was no respectable excuse for her to accept his loaded offer; she had already successfully evaded Ryan and salved some of her deeply wounded pride. But that ‘beanpole’ taunt still rankled, and no man had never looked at her in the way that Blake was looking at her now—with a blatant sexual speculation that ate her up with curiosity.