“What exactly are you suggesting?” Lisa demanded.

“I’m a wealthy man,” he said in a low voice. “I already come to Melbourne quite frequently on business and I could come even more frequently for pleasure.”

“You make me sound like a fast-food outlet,” she hissed. “Juicy steaks, medium rare, prepared to perfection while you wait! And a money-back guarantee if we fail to satisfy.”

Matt look at her from under half-closed lids.

“Oh, I don’t think you’d fail to satisfy,” he murmured.

ANGELA DEVINE grew up in Tasmania surrounded by forests, mountains and wild seas, so she dislikes big cities. Before taking up writing, she worked as a teacher, librarian and university lecturer. As a young mother and Ph.D. student she read romance fiction for fun and later decided it would be even more fun to write it. She is married with four children, loves chocolate and Twinings teas and hates ironing. Her current hobbies are gardening, bush walking, traveling and classical music.

Mistress for Hire
Angela Devine

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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To my sister.

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER ONE

‘TIM!’ shouted Lisa. ‘Aren’t you back yet? I’m getting a cramp in my shoulder!’

She raised herself on one elbow and gave an exasperated sigh. Even with the padding of a thick Chinese quilt spread beneath her, a dining table was not the most comfortable place to lie naked except for a thin drapery of silk. She twitched the green sari impatiently back from the curve of her hip, sat up and swung her legs over the side of the table. Luckily there were no neighbours who could look in, and the tossing green canopy of a silver birch tree produced exactly the quality of shifting greenish-gold light that Tim wanted for his study. It was to be called Female Nude on a Spring Afternoon, but as far as Lisa could see, it would never be finished unless Tim got out of the annoying habit of running out for a drink whenever his inspiration flagged. Suddenly she thought she heard the sound of a soft footstep downstairs.

‘Tim?’ she called hopefully.

There was no answer. Sighing again, Lisa rose to her feet and padded around the room. She had to admit objectively that it was in a bit of a mess, not that that bothered her or Tim. Why would any sane person want to have a dining room when they could so easily turn it into a studio? Oh, there were still a few signs of gracious living—the gold and white striped wallpaper, the cream Austrian blinds drawn up into opulent swags above the large picture window, a bowl of yellow roses that filled the room with their heady perfume, not to mention the Chippendale chairs pushed casually back against the wall or the handsome mahogany sideboard that was almost buried beneath the litter of paints, rags and brushes. Yes, there were still a few faint indicators of the Lansdon family’s wealth and good taste, but on the whole the room looked exactly like what it was. A work space for two enthusiastic painters. And just at the moment Lisa felt she would far rather be painting than posing.

She arched her back, trying to stretch the stiffness out of her neck and wriggling her shoulders to loosen them. What she needed was a really good work-out to loosen her stiffness so that she wouldn’t get pins and needles and start fidgeting the moment Tim came back. Yawning widely, she reached out one hand and put a cassette in the tape recorder. Ravel’s “Bolero”—now that was the sort of music you just had to dance to! She began to move voluptuously around the room, her back to the door, letting herself sway and posture sensually with the beat of the music. Anywhere else Lisa would never have dreamed of dancing naked, but Tim was dedicated enough to art to see her body only as an interesting combination of planes and surfaces, even if he did return while she was still in action. Ever since he had met Lisa acting as a model in his life drawing classes six months ago, he had regarded her as a cross between a great aunt and guru. Since she was only six years older than him this amused her, but it also made her feel safe. Safe enough to move into Tim’s luxury flat when he made her an offer she couldn’t refuse. If Lisa would give him painting lessons, she could have free board in return. She paused fractionally in the middle of a long, sensuous stretch, expecting to hear Tim ordering her to get back up on the table and pose for him. Sure enough, she heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps halting in the doorway. Lisa gave one last, voluptuous wriggle, hoisted herself on the table, flung the drapery dramatically around her and addressed him over her shoulder.

‘Hurry up, sweetie. I can’t wait another minute.’

‘Now there’s a tempting invitation,’ murmured the hoarse voice of a total stranger.

Lisa froze in shock, then swung round.

‘Who on earth—’ she began, then flushed to the roots of her hair as she realized she had only made matters worse. Instead of a discreet partial rear view, the stranger was now getting a full frontal and enjoying every moment of it to judge by the gleam in his ice-blue eyes. Lisa had a confused impression of a tall, powerfully built man dressed in an autumn-toned checked jacket, beige slacks and a striped tie. The amused contempt in his smile galvanized her into action. She snatched at the silk drapery and tried to wind it protectively around her as she stood up. That was a fatal mistake. As she scrambled off the dining table she tripped and fell to the floor with a startled shriek, losing half her covering in the process.

‘Dear me,’ said the stranger softly. ‘I seem to have given you a surprise.’

He crouched down as if to help her, but only succeeded in stepping on her sari.

‘Don’t touch me!’ yelped Lisa, scrabbling vainly at the length of silk. Was he deliberately standing on it? ‘Who are you? How did you get in?’

His reply came in a lazy drawl, as if this were nothing but a routine social occasion.

‘My name is Matt Lansdon. I’m Tim’s uncle. The door was unlocked so I just came up. I presume you must be Lisa Hayward?’

‘Tim’s uncle?’

Lisa stepped back a pace in shock as she realized that this was the ogre she had heard so much about, the hard-hearted trustee who had thwarted Tim’s burning desire to study art and insisted that he do economics at Melbourne University instead. Subconsciously she realized that she had been expecting a white-haired, fire-breathing old dragon of about eighty, but this man was relatively young. Certainly no more than thirty-five or thirty-six, with a hard, tough, youthful physique and only a faint silvering of the temples and an indefinable aura of authority as emblems of the power he held over his nephew. As Lisa continued to gape at him, he spoke again, like a lawyer cross-examining a witness.

‘I assume you must be Lisa Hayward?’

‘Yes, how did you know?’ she demanded defensively.

‘I’ve heard a lot about you,’ he replied.

There was a steely note in his voice, which sent a shiver of misgiving through her. For a moment he looked at her as if she was something that had crawled out from beneath a log, so that her chin came up and her eyes flashed dangerously. Then she made an effort to see things from his point of view. After all, it was hardly surprising if he disapproved of her, considering the circumstances in which they had met. In a desperate attempt to regain her poise she wrenched the sari out from under his foot and swathed herself in it.

‘I—I’m sorry about this,’ she stammered. ‘Tim and I were just about to…’ Her voice trailed away as she realized suddenly that the painting lessons she was giving Tim were supposed to be a deadly secret. Matt Lansdon gave her a sardonic smile.

‘Don’t explain,’ he begged. ‘I can imagine what you were just about to do. You’re Tim’s lodger, I gather? So tell me, what’s the arrangement? Do you pay him rent and share expenses or something of that sort?’

‘Yes,’ agreed Lisa unhappily. ‘Well, that is…I don’t exactly pay rent. We have another arrangement.’

‘Indeed? How interesting. You know, you make me more and more anxious to see Tim and have a little talk to him, Miss Hayward. And perhaps you and I should have a chat, too. Although you might like to get some clothes on first?’

Lisa’s cheeks burned. Little chat, indeed! There was no way she wanted to talk to him! Any fool could see what he thought was going on between her and Tim, and she didn’t see why she should suffer the ordeal of stammering out a lot of incoherent explanations that wouldn’t make sense. Why couldn’t Tim have the courage to come right out and tell his uncle the truth? That he hated economics and wanted to study art and that Lisa was trying to help him achieve his ambition in return for having a roof over her head? And where was Tim, anyway? How long could it possibly take to go to the pub across the road?

At that moment the telephone rang. Clutching her sari protectively around her, Lisa lunged at the receiver. A muted uproar of chinking glasses, bar-room conversation and the click of billiard balls immediately assaulted her.

‘Lisa?’

‘Tim,’ she cried gladly. ‘What are you doing? You said you’d only be gone five minutes!’

Tim’s voice gurgled down the line at her. Lazy, amiable and already slightly slurred.

‘Don’t get upset, gorgeous,’ he urged. ‘I ran into Barbara and some of the others at the pub and we’re all going to have a counter meal and then go on to a party at Tony’s place, so I guess the painting session’s over for today. Oh, Tony says you can come to the party with us, if you want. I don’t suppose you’re interested, though, are you?’

The invitation was lukewarm and Lisa’s reaction was exactly the same. She thought of the horseplay, the drinking, the numerous dogmatic arguments about the meaning of life that always seemed to go on at student parties and immediately felt as though she was approaching her hundredth birthday.

‘No, thanks, Tim,’ she said crisply. ‘I don’t feel like a party and you can’t go right now, either. Your uncle Matt is here and he wants to have an urgent talk with you.’

There was a muffled groan at the other end of the line.

‘Uncle Matt? Hell, I’m out of here! See you later, Lisa.’

‘Tim, he wants to speak to you! You can’t just hang up—’

Suddenly Matt shouldered her aside and grabbed the phone from her hands.

‘Timothy? I’m warning you—’

There was a distant click at the other end of the line and Matt gave a snort of exasperation. His eyes were narrowed to mere slits of cold blue light as he put down the receiver, and the set of his mouth left Lisa in no doubt at all that he was very angry.

‘Young fool!’ he growled. ‘When is that boy going to learn that he can’t escape trouble by ducking out of a difficult situation? He hasn’t even got the guts to stand by you, and I’m supposed to believe that he’s mature enough to run his own life! Heaven preserve us, I think Sonia’s right for once!’

Lisa stared at him with a puzzled frown. What on earth did he mean by talking about Tim standing by her? And what did Tim’s mother, Sonia, have to do with it? Was Matt Lansdon unbalanced? He didn’t look unbalanced! He looked like a powerful man unused to being thwarted and very annoyed about it. She forgot these speculations as Matt suddenly turned his anger on her.

‘Well, Tim may have escaped for the moment,’ he said in a hard voice. ‘But that still leaves you, sweetheart, and you and I have a lot to discuss. I suggest you begin by getting dressed in something more substantial than a sheet of cling wrap.’

His contemptuous tone touched Lisa on the raw. After all, it wasn’t her fault that Tim had hung up, leaving his uncle in the lurch, and she certainly hadn’t invited Matt Lansdon to enter the house and see her naked.

‘I’ll get dressed when and if I choose to!’ she flared. ‘May I remind you, Mr Lansdon, that this is my home and you are an uninvited visitor here? What’s more, I’m not your sweetheart and I don’t like being spoken to in that tone of voice.’

His reply was low, silky, threatening.

‘And may I remind you, Miss Hayward, that I am the legal owner of this flat? Tim is my tenant, not you, and he has no right to sublet without my permission. I could throw you out on the street at this very moment if I chose to do so.’

Lisa was taken aback, but didn’t show it. The news that Matt Lansdon was the legal owner of the flat came as a complete surprise to her, but that wasn’t the real crux of the problem. She was beginning to realize that she had leapt quite blithely into her rental arrangement with Tim without having any idea of the possible repercussions. At the time it had all seemed gloriously simple. Free art lessons in exchange for free board. Yet there had been several occasions since then when Lisa had wondered whether the benefits of free accommodation really made it worthwhile putting up with Tim’s often juvenile behaviour. And if she now had to suffer the blazing antagonism of his uncle, as well, the whole situation would become utterly impossible.

‘I see,’ she said levelly. ‘In that case, perhaps you would like me to pack my belongings and leave right now?’

Matt’s eyes skimmed over her, not with any sensual intent, but with a piercing scrutiny she found profoundly unnerving.

‘That might well be the best solution,’ he rasped. ‘And it’s certainly what Sonia would prefer, but I want a few answers first. Before you go anywhere else, Miss Hayward, you’re going to give them to me. Get dressed at once and we’ll have a little chat about what’s been going on here since you moved in with Tim.’

Lisa felt a sinking sensation. Tim’s uncle was wearing the gloating expression of a dentist intent on performing a series of thorough and painful extractions. She wouldn’t stand a chance if he started interrogating her.

‘I can’t!’ she gabbled, improvising wildly. ‘I have an appointment at the hairdresser’s in fifteen minutes’ time and after that I’m going to the opera at the State Theatre.’

Why had she said that? Perhaps because she would have given her eyeteeth to go to the performance of Carmen tonight. As usual, she couldn’t possibly afford a ticket, but Matt Lansdon didn’t know that. And at least it should get rid of him!

‘Indeed?’ drawled Matt sceptically. ‘What a pity. Still, the solution’s obvious. I’ll go to the opera, too, and we’ll have supper together afterwards. That should give us plenty of time to talk.’

Lisa flashed him a stricken look.

‘Y-you can’t,’ she stammered.

‘Why not? It’s the simplest thing in the world. Oh, but you’d better give me your ticket so that I can go to the box office and arrange for you to sit with me. Have you got it somewhere handy?’

‘Um…no…actually I’ve lost it! I was going to see if I could buy another one when I arrived there.’

‘Really? Well, there’s no need for that. I’ll organize it all. You’ll come as my guest, of course.’

She could see perfectly well that he didn’t believe her, and humiliation scorched through her. Yet she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of admitting she had lied.

‘How nice of you to invite me,’ cooed Lisa.

The flash of angry amusement in his eyes showed that he had caught the irony in her tone. His dark eyebrows peaked.

‘It’s not an invitation, Miss Hayward, it’s more in the nature of an order.’

‘Why should I take orders from you?’ she whipped back.

The cynical amusement in his expression grew more apparent than ever.

‘If you have the slightest concern for Tim’s welfare, you will,’ he replied curtly. ‘I’ll pick you up at seven. Good day to you, Miss Hayward.’

Once he had left and Lisa had carefully locked the front door after him, she sank down in a dining chair, buried her head in her hands and groaned.

‘What’s going on here?’ she demanded aloud. ‘Why is he so hostile to me? I know I had no clothes on, but he surely can’t think I’ve seduced his precious nephew! Anyway, doesn’t he know that Tim’s having a torrid affair with Barbara Simpson? No, of course that’s not the kind of thing that Tim would admit to good old Uncle Matt, is it? And who could blame him? Still, I could murder the stupid kid for running off and leaving me to deal with all this. Lord, what a mess! I’ve a good mind to go out and not be here at seven o’clock when his wretched uncle comes back.’

All the same, Matt’s parting shot had been shrewdly aimed. As Lisa ran a steaming hot bubble bath and lowered herself into it with the bathroom door locked—she wasn’t going to risk a second interruption—she pondered his words. What possible connection could there be between Tim’s welfare and Lisa’s acceptance of Matt’s invitation? And hadn’t there been something vaguely sarcastic in his tone, as if he didn’t believe Lisa had the slightest interest in Tim’s welfare? It was all very puzzling, and she had to admit that her curiosity was stirred, although there were also other, less comfortable feelings simmering inside her.

The thought of going to the opera with Matt filled her with mingled dread and annoyance. Normally she would have jumped at the chance, since she adored the drama and passion and vitality of opera but could rarely afford tickets. Yet the thought of sitting side by side in an auditorium all evening with Matt Lansdon was about as appealing as being escorted by a sabre-toothed tiger, and a hungry one at that. And that was not a bad image, she reflected, soaping a sponge and brushing it dreamily over her breasts. There was definitely something primitive and feral about the man that seemed all the more dangerous in contrast to his impeccably tailored clothing. Now that she thought about it, she remembered that Tim had told her his uncle was a grazier in Tasmania, and he certainly dressed like one. The aura of old money, old Georgian houses and antiquated notions about masculine power and importance clung to Matt Lansdon as persistently as the leathery aroma of his expensive aftershave. A deeply conservative man, if Lisa was any judge. And yet beneath the conservatism lurked something wild that sent an odd, unwelcome thrill through her.

Trying to recall every word and look and gesture that had passed between them, she found herself remembering how the dark hairs curled around the band of his Rolex watch on his left wrist, how his muscular thighs thrust against the fabric of his slacks, how his broad, powerful shoulders filled out the Fletcher Jones jacket. A faint grin curved her lips as she realized what a shock it must have given him to burst in on her and find her wearing no clothes at all. Although I suppose I’d have been shocked, too, if the situation had been reversed, admitted Lisa fairly, but that thought brought another in its train. What would Matt Lansdon look like without any clothes? He would have massive shoulders, powerful arms, a narrow waist, muscular thighs, she felt fairly sure of all that. But what about the features she hadn’t seen? A hairy chest and a line of dark hair arrowing down from his navel to… Lisa blushed and slid under the water at the image that rose to her mind.

What had got into her to be thinking this sort of thing? She didn’t even like the man! He was rude, arrogant and domineering, and there was no reason something should melt and flutter deep inside her at the thought of seeing him naked. She must stop having torrid, adolescent fantasies and decide what to do about his invitation. Should she go or not? It would certainly be more comfortable never to see him again. But if Tim’s welfare was involved, she really had no choice about confronting his alarming uncle. However infuriating her flatmate might be at times, she was genuinely fond of him. Ever since she had first met Tim, Lisa had suspected uneasily that his family was exerting too much pressure on him and had felt that someone ought to tackle them about it. Well, perhaps the someone was her and this was her opportunity.

She took special care over dressing and applying her make-up. Not that she wanted to impress Matt Lansdon, she told herself fiercely, but simply because she wanted to do justice to the atmosphere of the opera itself. It gave her a brief pang of regret that nobody seemed to wear long dresses these days, but she chose the next best thing. A figure-hugging jade-green sheath with a low-cut, square neckline and a bodice embellished with intricate beading and embroidery. She brushed her long, curly dark auburn hair back from her face and fastened it with a pearl clip that had the double advantage of letting her display the creamy line of her throat, while at the same time sending her curling locks rippling down her back as she moved. A pearl choker around her neck, gold and pearl-drop earrings with black stockings and a gold evening bag completed the ensemble. Satisfied with her clothes, Lisa turned her attention to her make-up. Gazing critically at herself in the mirror, she wished for the millionth time that her mouth wasn’t so wide and that her nose didn’t have a bump in it. Well, she would just have to attempt a little bit of camouflage! She applied a light foundation that hid her freckles, smoothed on some gold eye shadow to bring out the highlights in her toffee brown eyes, added some blusher high on her cheekbones before outlining her mouth vividly with a dark, burgundy lipstick. Then she sprayed on a liberal cloud of Jicky Guerlain perfume and struck a pose with one hand behind her head like a 1920s vamp. At that moment the doorbell rang. An unexpected feeling of breathlessness overtook Lisa as she ran down to answer it.

Matt Lansdon stood on the doorstep, looking grim, unsmiling and diabolically attractive. The formal black tuxedo, white shirt and black bow tie suited his rugged masculinity to perfection. His dark, wavy hair was brushed back from his forehead, his mouth was set in a tough line and his eyebrows met in a thoughtful scowl above vivid blue eyes. He did not smile at Lisa’s appearance, but she thought she saw a flash of surprised approval in his eyes as he scanned her from head to foot.

‘Good evening, Miss Hayward,’ he said neutrally. ‘Are you ready to leave?’

As he helped her on with her coat, Lisa glanced at him over her shoulder with a small, troubled smile.

‘Can’t you call me Lisa?’ she asked. ‘It seems so unfriendly to go on calling me Miss Hayward.’

His eyes narrowed into such a hostile expression that she half expected the retort that unfriendliness was exactly what he felt towards her. Instead he gave her a small, formal nod.

‘Very well…Lisa,’ he said stiffly. ‘And I suppose you’d better call me Matt.’

She smiled at him, aware that her eyes were dancing and the dimples were showing in her cheeks.

‘Thank you, Matt,’ she said in a breathy, little-girl voice that she had used to charm packets of sweets out of elderly great-uncles when she was six years old.

It failed dismally with Matt. His mouth hardened and his hand tightened briefly on her elbow as if he was consciously resisting the impulse to strangle her.

‘Come along,’ he urged. ‘We’d better not keep our driver waiting.’

As she followed him out on to the footpath, she was startled to see that there was a limousine waiting outside with a chauffeur in a grey uniform waiting respectfully to help them into the back seat. Lisa blinked.

‘Are you always driven around by a chauffeur?’ she marvelled, as the car glided away from the curb.

‘No,’ growled Matt. ‘Only when I’m in Melbourne or Sydney and don’t want the bother of driving myself.’

‘Oh,’ muttered Lisa, settling into her seat and eyeing him doubtfully. It would have been nice to think that he had planned this as a special experience for her, but even her optimistic nature couldn’t accept that explanation. It was obvious that Matt Lansdon felt a powerful antagonism towards her, although she still wasn’t really sure why. As the car glided along through the streets of St Kilda towards the city, she thrust that small, niggling worry out of her mind and concentrated on enjoying herself. She had always loved this hour of the day when the neon lights of the city began to sparkle like coloured jewels against the backdrop of the silvery twilight. A soft sigh of pleasure escaped her.

‘I’m so glad they’re performing Carmen tonight,’ she murmured, half to herself. ‘It’s my favourite opera.’

‘I thought it might be,’ said Matt with a sardonic curl of his lips. ‘The heroine seems like the kind of character who would appeal to you.’

‘A gypsy slut with no heart and no morals who makes her lover suffer so cruelly that he stabs her in a jealous fit of rage? That’s the kind of character you think I could identify with?’

‘Yes.’

Lisa’s eyes flashed dangerously.

‘It must be wonderful to be able to sum up people’s characters the moment you meet them without having to bother about getting to know them,’ she purred. ‘I’m afraid it’s a skill I’ve never had and I might make terribly embarrassing blunders if I tried it. Take you, for instance. If I were foolish enough to go by my first impressions, I might think that you were arrogant, ill-mannered, prone to jumping to conclusions. Whereas no doubt if I wait, eventually you’ll be revealed to me as gracious, fair-minded, and with a heart as soft as a marshmallow.’

Matt scowled silently at her for a moment. Then he cleared his throat.

‘I’m sorry if I seem discourteous,’ he muttered. ‘I’ll do my best to be fair-minded about whatever you have to say to me this evening.’

‘Yes, why don’t you do that?’ agreed Lisa sweetly. ‘That way I’m sure we’ll both have a very pleasant evening.’

In some ways it was a very pleasant evening, although she could not remain unaware of the mysterious tension that seemed to be bubbling between them. Yet Lisa had a naturally cheerful disposition, so that even with Matt brooding silently beside her, she was still able to enjoy the magical atmosphere of the State Theatre. The women in their beautiful, shimmering dresses, the men looking splendid and formal in their dark suits, the sounds of instruments tuning up in the orchestra pit, the dim house lights, the rustle of programmes and then the colour and vitality of the stage sets and the costumes and the glorious, swirling music all combined to lift her spirits.

During the interval they did not join the rest of the throng, battling for glasses of champagne at the bar, but Matt ushered her into a private room, where the members of the opera board and their guests were mingling. To Lisa’s relief, he set aside his ill humour here and escorted her around from group to group, introducing her as if she was a cherished guest. Fortunately Lisa was in her element and recognised several people she knew from art gallery openings. She was soon deep in a conversation about the stage sets for the production, which had been painted by one of her old art school cronies, so she simply smiled and nodded when Matt asked her to excuse him so he could speak to a business associate. Later as they filed into the auditorium for the second half of the opera, she found him gazing at her with a thoughtful, appraising look, as if he was surprised that she had fitted in so well with his friends.

‘What’s wrong?’ she whispered wickedly in his ear as the house lights went down. ‘Did you think I was going to rip all my clothes off and lie on the table?’

Just before the orchestra came in on cue, she could hear the audible grinding of his teeth. However, the rest of the performance was so magnificent that Lisa’s thoughts were soon swept away from the mysterious subject of why Matt disliked her so much. Both of them became absorbed in the performance and, when the opera reached its stunning climax and the final curtain fell, they rose to their feet cheering and clapping with the rest of the audience. Only after half a dozen curtain calls had been taken and her hands were stinging from clapping did Lisa stop applauding and turn to look at Matt.

‘Wasn’t it wonderful?’ she breathed. ‘Thank you so much for bringing me.’

His eyes kindled.

‘My pleasure,’ he murmured. ‘It doubles the enjoyment to be with someone who appreciates it so much.’

Yet as they went up in the lift to the restaurant upstairs, Lisa sensed that the brief truce was over. She still felt magically uplifted and would have liked nothing better than to enjoy the discreet opulence of the restaurant with its candelit tables and its murals of famous opera sets from the past, but she had an uneasy certainty that Matt was spoiling for a fight. All the same, her earlier shot about his manners seemed to have gone home.

‘I think we should enjoy our meal and have a little chat to get to know each other better before we discuss anything really heavy, don’t you?’ he suggested with a wintry smile as they sat down.

‘Yes, I do,’ agreed Lisa candidly. ‘I’m starving and I won’t enjoy my food so much if you quarrel with me while I eat.’

Matt gave an explosive growl of laughter.

‘Well, that’s honest,’ he conceded. ‘And I’ve always liked women who enjoy food. It makes me feel they would enjoy everything else about life, as well. So tell me, my ravenous little sex goddess, what are you planning on eating?’

‘Sex goddess?’ challenged Lisa with a lift of her eyebrows.

‘If you don’t want to be considered a sex goddess, you shouldn’t lie around looking so luscious on dining tables,’ warned Matt in a hoarse, smoky voice, his blue eyes scanning her lazily from under half-lowered lids. ‘Nor, for that matter, should you wear cocktail dresses that show off your considerable physical charms to such advantage. I’ll say this much for my nephew—the boy evidently recognises a beautiful woman when he sees one.’

Lisa stared at him uneasily. There was something in the sultry, caressing way Matt was watching her that sent an unwilling tingle of excitement through her entire body, but at the same time she resented his frank appraisal of her attractions, particularly when she was still well aware of his underlying hostility towards her. And where on earth did Tim come into this? Tim certainly didn’t think she was beautiful. As a matter of fact, he often told her quite cheerfully that she ought to go on a diet. Unwilling to be drawn into a difficult discussion, Lisa simply flashed Matt a mysterious, fleeting smile and turned her attention to the menu.

‘I think I’ll have the seafood brochettes with wild rice and salad,’ she announced. ‘And perhaps the chocolate mousse cake and coffee to follow, if you don’t mind. I didn’t have any dinner tonight.’

‘Be my guest,’ Matt shrugged. ‘I think I’ll have the grilled lobster, myself. Would you like some champagne to drink with it?’

‘Yes, please,’ agreed Lisa. Once the champagne had been brought and approved, Matt leaned back in his chair and smiled at her. The smile worried Lisa. There was something dangerous about it, as if it was the opening move in a war game.

‘Tell me some more about yourself,’ he invited.

Lisa was just about to embark on this agreeable activity when there was a sudden interruption. A tall, flamboyant-looking man, dressed in a dinner suit of royal blue satin and with long, blond hair pulled back into a ponytail, stopped at her table and uttered a glad cry of recognition.

‘Lisa! I haven’t seen you for ages, darling. When are you going to give up that dreary little boyfriend of yours and come and live with me?’

Lisa gave a gurgle of laughter and returned her friend’s embrace warmly. In spite of Alan’s violently coloured clothes and theatrical gestures, she knew perfectly well that he was devoted to his wife, Vicky, and his two little boys. But this sort of banter was an old habit going back to their student days at art college, and she always enjoyed it.

‘Whenever you say the word, sweetheart,’ she replied. ‘By the way, I thought your sets were magnificent tonight. Alan, have you met Matt Lansdon? Matt, this is Alan, who designed the sets for the production.’

‘How do you do?’ muttered Matt, rising to his feet and extending his hand.

There was a stormy glint in his eyes as he took in every detail of Alan’s unconventional appearance, but the set designer seemed in no way taken aback by this scrutiny. He winked at Lisa and gave her shoulder an affectionate squeeze before he began to thread his way between the tables again.

‘Well, I must be going,’ he said over his shoulder. ‘Nice meeting you, Matt. I envy you your supper partner. Isn’t she the sexiest little moll in town?’

Matt’s face was like thunder as he glared after Alan’s departing back.

‘Are you aware that he’s a married man with two children?’ he hissed when Alan was safely out of earshot.

Lisa smiled tranquilly. She found Matt’s disapproval so exquisitely humorous that she couldn’t bear to spoil the fun by telling him how harmless the friendship really was. Instead she gave him a long, sultry look from under lowered eyelashes and pouted at him.

‘Yes,’ she breathed.

For a moment she thought Matt was going to jump up out of his chair and box her ears, but instead he simply scowled at her.

‘Where did you meet him?’ he asked.

‘Alan? We were at art school together.’

‘Oh, so you really do have some claim to be a genuine artist, do you?’ asked Matt in a surprised voice. ‘I thought…no, never mind.’

Lisa gave him a puzzled frown and then shook her head regretfully.

‘No, I don’t think I can really claim to be a genuine artist,’ she said flatly.

‘But you just said you went to art school.’

‘That doesn’t make me an artist,’ she retorted. ‘Not by my reckoning, at any rate. I have an art school diploma and I’ve sold maybe a dozen reasonably important paintings over the last three years, but only at very moderate prices. I couldn’t possibly live on what I earn from my art, and that’s my definition of an artist. One of these days I will be a genuine artist, if hard work has anything to do with it. In the meantime I support myself in whatever way I can, but I won’t claim to be something I’m not.’

Matt gazed at her thoughtfully and took a sip of his champagne.

‘That’s interesting,’ he said, half to himself. ‘You strike me as being a very ambitious young woman.’

She shrugged. ‘I suppose you could say that.’

‘How old are you now?’ he asked.

‘Twenty-five,’ replied Lisa ruefully. ‘So I’ve been at it long enough to know that it isn’t easy to make a name for yourself as a painter. But one of these days I’ll do it, whatever sacrifices I have to make.’

‘Aren’t you afraid that marriage and children will cramp your style?’ asked Matt.

Since Lisa wasn’t at all sure that she ever wanted to marry, that question didn’t faze her.

‘I have no intention of letting marriage and children cramp my style!’ she replied with a toss of her head.

‘I see,’ said Matt grimly as he speared a piece of lobster with his fork. ‘You’re one of these liberated women, are you?’

There was so much distaste in his tone that Lisa had to hide a grin.

‘Have I said something funny?’ demanded Matt.

‘No. It’s more the way you said it, as if you were asking, “Oh, you’re one of those poisonous snakes, are you? Or one of those deadly spiders? Or one of those white pointer sharks?”’

‘Any of those would be preferable in my view to a liberated woman,’ said Matt disdainfully, picking up his champagne glass again.

Lisa choked. ‘You take my breath away,’ she said.

‘I’m astonished that any man should have the power to do that. You strike me as the sort of woman who would be glib and fluent in any situation whatsoever.’

‘Thank you,’ purred Lisa. ‘I assume that’s a compliment.’

‘It isn’t,’ replied Matt evenly. ‘But we’ll let it pass for the moment. Tell me, have you known Tim long?’

There was something in the way he asked the question that made Lisa feel as if she was in a fencing ring, circling around a far more experienced, agile and deadly opponent. An odd, simmering sense of excitement began to tingle through her as she braced herself for the impending clash of swords. Then she told herself not to be melodramatic. After all, wasn’t this what they had come out for? To discuss Tim’s future like two calm, rational adults? She shrugged and gave Matt a faint smile.

‘About six months,’ she replied. ‘I’ve been living with him for three months of that time.’

A muscle twitched in Matt’s cheek at this revelation, but he continued methodically eating his lobster for a moment before glancing across at her with appraising blue eyes.

‘And what do you think of him?’ he demanded.

Lisa hesitated. There was a lot she wanted to say, but Tim had strictly forbidden her to say most of it. He was morbidly afraid of the sort of angry scene he believed would ensue if his mother and uncle discovered that he was still pursuing his passion for art against their wishes. Left to herself, Lisa would have been perfectly frank with Matt. She would have told him that his nephew showed extraordinary promise as a painter and begged him to let the youth give up his half-hearted study of economics and go to art school full time. Yet Tim had sworn her to secrecy and she did not feel that she could betray his trust. Her misgivings showed in her face.

‘There’s no need to be tactful,’ urged Matt irritably. ‘I want the truth from you. What are your impressions of my nephew’s character?’

Tim’s character! Well, it was easier to be truthful about that than about his ambitions. Tim had never sworn her to secrecy about his character.

‘He’s basically a nice boy,’ she replied in the measured tone of a headmistress giving a character reference. ‘Although he is rather spoilt and he seems to think he can have whatever he wants simply by demanding it.’

‘That’s Sonia’s influence,’ said Matt in an exasperated voice. ‘She’s a very silly woman and she gave in to him too much when he was a child. Still, I suppose it’s not surprising that she spoiled the boy after his father died.’

‘How did his father die?’ asked Lisa hesitantly. ‘Tim has never told me.’

A shadow crossed Matt’s features.

‘He was piloting a light aircraft, which crashed. Tim was only two years old at the time.’

Something in the grim lines of Matt’s face told her that long-ago grief still haunted him. She thought about how she would feel if her own adored brother, Brian, had met with such a disaster and instinctively flinched.

‘I suppose he was your older brother, wasn’t he?’ she said huskily. ‘I’m so sorry.’

Matt’s gaze darted swiftly across the table to meet hers, as if he was startled by the sympathy in her voice. Then he shrugged.

‘Thank you,’ he replied. ‘But it was a long time ago. I seldom think of it now.’

‘You can’t have been very old when it happened.’

‘I was eighteen. There was a ten-year age gap between my brother and myself.’

‘Only eighteen?’ she exclaimed. ‘And yet he made you trustee for the whole estate?’

Matt’s mouth hardened. ‘Yes. He thought I was the tough one in the family and he knew I was shrewd at handling money even then. I bought my first portfolio of shares when I was sixteen. You’d do well to remember that, Lisa.’

Lisa gave him a baffled look. Why would she do well to remember it? What did it have to do with her? Although perhaps this was the opening she had been waiting for, to turn the conversation round to Tim’s interests again. If she could persuade Matt to give Tim more financial freedom, perhaps she need not even mention the delicate subject of art.

‘Can I ask you something?’ she said. ‘If you wanted to, could you wind up the trust and leave Tim in control of his money?’

‘Yes,’ said Matt in a clipped tone.

Lisa let out a long sigh.

‘I really think you ought to do that,’ she urged.

‘Why should I?’ demanded Matt suspiciously. ‘He’ll come into his inheritance at the age of twenty-five in any case, and all his expenses are paid for him at the moment. He doesn’t go short of anything.’

‘No, he doesn’t go short of anything,’ agreed Lisa passionately. ‘But he doesn’t have control of anything, either, and that really infuriates him. I’m sure he wouldn’t get involved in so many silly stunts at the university if he didn’t feel so hemmed in by you and his mother. In my opinion, half the reason he’s so silly and disruptive is that he feels as if he’s treated like a child.’

‘Does he now?’ said Matt dryly. ‘Well, he’ll simply have to put up with it until I’m convinced that it’s in his best interests to change my approach. And I’m not convinced of that yet. Tell me, are you in love with Tim?’

Lisa choked with laughter.

‘Of course not!’ she retorted.

‘Yet you live with him?’ demanded Matt sternly.

All the hostility between them seemed to come bubbling to the surface as the implication of his words sank in.

‘So you assume—’ cried Lisa hotly and then bit off the words.

‘I’ve seen for myself that you lie around naked on the dining table inviting his attentions,’ continued Matt in a hushed, rapid tone so that she had to strain her ears to catch the words. ‘So I assume that you’re having an affair with him. Is that unreasonable?’

Lisa flushed scarlet and glanced uneasily around her, but the other guests in the restaurant seemed quite unconscious of what they were discussing. Her mind raced as she tried to gather her thoughts. She could have told Matt Lansdon the simple truth, every bit of it, including the bargain about the art lessons. But why should she? What business was it of his?

‘It’s nothing to do with you,’ she flared.

‘I see,’ he replied mockingly. ‘Then I’ll simply have to go on making my assumptions, won’t I? But if you’re not in love with Tim, are you at least fond of him?’

‘As a matter of fact, I am!’

‘Then leave him alone, Lisa,’ urged Matt, leaning forward across the table and seizing her wrist. ‘Move out of that flat and give him a chance to grow up. He doesn’t need a woman like you in his life when he’s barely out of school and still wet behind the ears.’

‘A woman like me?’ echoed Lisa. ‘And what exactly is that supposed to mean?’

‘You know damned well what it’s supposed to mean. You’re a sensual, ambitious little schemer and you’re using your considerable charm and physical attraction to lure him into your nets.’

‘I’m flattered that you think I have charm and physical attraction,’ jeered Lisa.

‘Don’t be. It’s a simple statement of fact, not a compliment. What baffles me is why you bother. Is the money really worth it?’

‘What money?’ demanded Lisa contemptuously.

‘The money you hope to get when Tim marries you,’ snapped Matt.

Lisa’s mouth fell open. ‘Is that what I’m supposed to be after? Marriage to Tim?’

‘Oh, I love the bewildered innocence, sweetheart! But you’re wasting your time trying to fool me. Sonia’s already told me you and Tim are planning to get married.’

Lisa very nearly picked up the champagne bottle and emptied it over Matt’s head. Then she took a long, deep breath and exhaled slowly. She had disliked Tim’s mother from the moment she met her, considering her snobbish, patronizing and extremely silly, but even Sonia was incapable of such a pearl of fantasy without at least a grain of truth to get her started. Tim must have said something to set this whole tale in motion!

‘Where did you hear this?’ she asked.

‘Tim told her. She says she’s found you in the house twice when she went to visit him. The first time she suspected you were living with him, so the second time she arrived unannounced, found a wild party in progress and Tim draped all over you.’

‘It wasn’t a wild party!’ protested Lisa. ‘It was just a few of Tim’s friends at the end of third term. We’ve had much wilder parties than that.’

‘Have you?’ demanded Matt in an ominous tone. ‘As your landlord, I hardly find that reassuring. Anyway, be that as it may, Sonia tackled Tim about it afterwards and demanded to know what you were doing there. At first he told her a lot of implausible stories and then finally blurted out the truth—that he had fallen in love with you and was planning to marry you.’

Lisa gave a low gasp of indignation.

‘That idiot,’ she muttered. ‘I might have known he’d go to pieces once Sonia started interrogating him. He’s nothing but a big, silly kid.’

‘Exactly,’ growled Matt. ‘So why are you wasting your time on him? You don’t need a boy, you need a grown man, and a powerful one at that, to keep you occupied, young lady.’

‘Oh, so you’re offering your services, are you?’ demanded Lisa sarcastically.

Matt’s hold on her wrist tightened.

‘I might be, I just might be,’ he growled. ‘Not marriage, Lisa. I’ve no intention of marrying a woman who’s available to the highest bidder, but a love affair, that’s something else.’ He leaned forward and his voice was so low that she could scarcely catch the words, but when she did they made her quiver with rage and something else. ‘I can make you tingle and ache with sexual passion in a way that boy hasn’t even discovered yet. You’re a gambler and a deeply sensual woman, Lisa, and I’m a man of considerable experience. Why don’t you try your luck with me?’

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