Lee Wilkinson
STAND-IN MISTRESS

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ONE

‘AND the installation work could be carried out without delay?’

‘Yes, certainly.’ Cool and efficient-looking in a charcoal-grey suit, her slim, nylon-clad legs neatly crossed, Joanne was quietly confident.

There was a brief pause while the burly managing director of Liam Peters thought it over.

‘Well, if your company can give me the kind of service you’ve just outlined, Miss Winslow, I believe we can do business,’ he said pleasantly.

‘I’m sure we can,’ she promised.

Elbows resting on the arms of his chair, hands steepled, he stared at her across the desk.

Smooth sable hair framed an oval face with good features—dark blue eyes, widely spaced, a generous mouth, a straight nose, and a determined chin.

Not exactly beautiful, he decided, but an interesting face, full of character.

‘In that case I’ll expect your team of technicians to be here first thing Monday morning to talk to me.’

‘They will be,’ she assured him, and smiled.

That smile made him revise his previous opinion.

Rising to his feet, he accompanied her to the door of the outer office and they shook hands cordially.

Barely restraining the impulse to jump for joy and shout ‘Yippee!’ she made her way sedately out of the newly completed office block and into Fulham Road.

She was immediately engulfed by the golden brightness of an early-September afternoon and the ceaseless roar and bustle of London’s traffic.

After months of worry, as the economy declined and the company her brother had built up began to founder, things seemed to be looking up.

For over five years Steve had struggled to make Optima Business Services successful, but the recession had meant less work and put a severe strain on the company’s slender financial resources.

The first really tricky patch had been weathered by mortgaging their house. But the second squall, coming fast on the heels of the first, had threatened to sink them.

Then, just that morning, Steve had been promised a substantial injection of cash by MBL Finance, an international investment company who specialised in helping small businesses.

Now, heaven be praised, she had as good as secured what promised to be a lucrative contract to set up a large new communications network.

About to head in the direction of the nearest tube station, Joanne glanced at her watch. She was surprised to find it was twenty minutes to five. At this time on a Friday there was no point in going back to their Kensington offices.

She was less than ten minutes’ walk away from where they lived, so she might as well go home and start preparing a meal for when the rest of the family got in. Turning, she headed for Carlisle Street, and the house she shared with her brother, Steve, her sister, Milly, and Milly’s husband, Duncan.

Milly would no doubt be home by now, packing. The young couple were moving to Scotland, where Duncan, a newly qualified doctor, had recently been offered a position at a practice in his home town of Edinburgh.

A furnished flat above the surgery went with the post, and the journey by overnight sleeper meant they would be in Edinburgh by seven-thirty tomorrow morning, which would allow them plenty of time to get settled in over the weekend.

What had made the offer even more acceptable was that one of the receptionists had recently left, and Milly had been given the chance to take over her job.

Even so, she had seemed edgy and unsettled, less than enthusiastic about moving so far north, and her obvious reluctance had caused some trouble between herself and Duncan.

When she protested, with some passion, that she liked the secretarial job she had now and didn’t want to leave, Duncan had pointed out quietly that before she married him he’d made it quite plain that he planned to return to Scotland.

Unable to deny this, she had resorted to tears, and, when they did no good, ragged outbursts of temper. But to Joanne’s immense relief, Duncan, as steady and level-headed as Milly was wild and wilful, had largely ignored her tantrums.

When Joanne reached Carlisle Street, which was quiet and tree-shaded, lined by old and elegant town houses with porticoed entrances, she walked down it with her usual feeling of nostalgia.

Number twenty-three had belonged to her parents. A happy family home, its front room had been used as an office, with a gold-lettered sign in the window that read: ‘John and Jane Winslow. Solicitors.’

Then five years ago the pair had died together in a train crash in Mexico, while on a second honeymoon.

Milly, the youngest of the family, had been only thirteen at the time. Instead of returning to university for the autumn term, Joanne had joined her brother’s business venture so she could be on hand to look after both of them.

Steve had protested that at twenty-two he was old enough to look after himself, but had been only too pleased to have the running of the house taken off his hands.

Joanne climbed the steps, put her key in the lock, and let herself in. She had expected to hear pop music blaring, but the house was still and silent. It seemed Milly wasn’t home after all.

When she’d changed from her business suit into trousers and a top, she made her way down to the pleasant, airy kitchen.

Having plugged in the kettle for a cup of tea, and opened up the stove, she began to prepare the evening meal. Lisa, Steve’s secretary, and now his fiancée, was coming home with him tonight, so they could make it a family celebration.

With that thought in mind, Joanne found a couple of bottles of sparkling wine and put them in the fridge.

She was in the middle of adding a breadcrumb and pine-kernel topping to the cheese and broccoli bake when Milly appeared in the doorway.

Petite and pretty, with red-gold hair, bright blue eyes and a figure like a pocket Venus, she was usually sparkling and vivacious, dressed up to show off her charms.

Now, wearing scruffy jeans and a shrunken T-shirt, she looked edgy and in low spirits as she slumped down at the table.

‘I didn’t realise you were home,’ Joanne remarked. ‘No music.’

‘Didn’t feel like playing any.’

‘Still worrying about the move?’ Joanne asked with some sympathy.

When Milly said nothing, she added reassuringly, ‘I’m sure there’s no need to. Once you’ve settled in and made some new friends you’ll be fine.’

Her face sullen, Milly muttered, ‘What about my job? You know how much I enjoy it…’

Rather than go to college, Milly had chosen to take a secretarial course. Quick and intelligent, despite her somewhat flighty ways, she had done well. On completing the course, she had found a job with Lancing International, filling in for one of the secretaries who was on maternity leave.

She had proved so efficient that when the new mother failed to return she had been offered the post on a permanent basis.

‘Well, I’m sure you’ll find your new job interesting,’ Joanne said soothingly.

Milly snorted. ‘Depressing, more like. Who wants to be stuck in a doctor’s surgery day and night?’

Letting that go, Joanne poured them both a cup of tea and sat down opposite, before enquiring, ‘Finished packing?’

‘I haven’t even started.’

‘If you need any help let me know.’

‘I’m not sure whether I’m going.’ The words were spoken defiantly.

As lightly as possible, Joanne said, ‘I don’t see you have much choice. All the arrangements are made. And, after all, Duncan is your husband.’

‘You don’t need to remind me. I wish I’d listened to you when you said I was too young to get married.’

Joanne’s heart sank. It was true that, thinking Milly too immature, she had at first opposed the marriage. But Duncan had seemed both sensible and stable, and the pair had been so very much in love, that she had finally given her blessing.

‘Duncan and I have quarrelled so much lately that I’m beginning to wonder if the whole thing was a mistake,’ Milly added miserably.

Hiding her dismay, Joanne said calmly, ‘You know perfectly well that you’re only feeling this way because of the move.’

Taking a gulp of her tea, Milly shook her head. ‘There’s more to it than that.’

‘Stuff and nonsense,’ Joanne said briskly.

‘You don’t understand. I think I’m in love.’

‘As you’ve only been married for a few months I should hope so.’

‘I don’t mean with Duncan. I still care about him, of course, but I think I’ve fallen for someone else.’

‘If it’s Trevor, he will be flattered.’ Joanne tried to make a joke of it.

Diverted, Milly pulled a face. ‘What you see in that pompous git I can’t imagine…You may not be Miss World but you could do better than him.’

‘Thanks,’ Joanne said drily.

‘Duncan doesn’t rate him either,’ Milly added, as though that settled it. ‘He has about as much charisma as a worm without any charisma.’

‘I certainly wouldn’t call Trevor a worm,’ Joanne objected mildly.

‘Neither would I, on second thoughts. He’s too picky and bossy. He’d want to tell you what to do all the time.’

‘I’ll bear that in mind. I should hate to marry the wrong man.’

‘Like me, you mean?’

‘Don’t be an idiot!’ Joanne exclaimed with a sharpness born of fear. ‘You haven’t married the wrong man. Duncan is exactly what you need.’

‘But I keep trying to tell you…I’ve fallen for someone else.’

Taking a deep breath, Joanne said, ‘Well, if it isn’t Trevor, you’d better tell me who it is.’

‘My boss. Brad Lancing…Now, he is charismatic.’

‘Brad Lancing!’

‘He’s absolutely gorgeous! Handsome, clever, and totally charming…He has the most fascinating eyes you’ve ever seen…And that mouth…’ Milly practically drooled.

So that explained Milly’s moods, her reluctance to leave her job. Joanne groaned inwardly.

Seeing the look on her sister’s face, Milly said, ‘You think I’m just being a fool, don’t you?’

‘According to Steve, Lancing is a married man with children, so the answer’s yes.’

‘Steve’s wrong. I know for a fact that he isn’t married and he hasn’t any children. He’s a thirty-year-old bachelor.’

Unsure which version to believe, Joanne countered, ‘And you’re an eighteen-year-old married woman.’

‘Age doesn’t matter, and I don’t feel married when I’m with him. I feel…well…wonderful.’

‘Oh, Milly,’ Joanne said helplessly, ‘don’t you know that a lot of women fall for their boss, while most bosses scarcely notice their secretary?’

‘Brad notices me,’ Milly assured her triumphantly. ‘The two nights I told you I was working late, I was having dinner with him.’

Suddenly scared half out of her wits, Joanne croaked, ‘You didn’t go any further?’

‘No, I didn’t. But from some of the things he said, and the way he looked at me, I know he wanted to.’

Joanne gritted her teeth. When Milly had first started to work for the company, Steve had mentioned that Lancing had a bad reputation as far as women were concerned.

But she hadn’t worried, never dreaming that a sophisticated man like him would be even remotely interested in a girl who was just eighteen, and newly married, to boot.

He must be a complete and utter swine, and totally without scruples.

‘Surely you realise a man like that is only out for what he can get?’ she said desperately. ‘And when—’

‘Don’t tell me, I know…When he’s got it he won’t respect me. Well, I’m fed up with being respected. I want some excitement in my life, and if this trip to Norway does come off…’ She stopped speaking abruptly.

‘What trip to Norway?’

‘If it turns out to be necessary, Brad will be going to Norway for six weeks or so on business. He’s asked me to go with him.’

Tight-lipped, Joanne demanded, ‘As what?’

‘His secretary, of course,’ Milly answered demurely.

‘But you’re no longer working for him. You’ve given in your notice.’

Milly shook her head. ‘I haven’t said anything about leaving. I haven’t made up my mind about going to Scotland…’ Seeing the look on her sister’s face, she faltered to a halt.

Joanne’s cup rattled into the saucer. ‘You can’t seriously mean that you’re willing to risk destroying your marriage because of a silly infatuation?’

‘Oh, but I—’

‘Hasn’t it occurred to you that Brad Lancing probably only wants a brief fling? Another notch on his bedpost? Even if I’m mistaken about him being married, he has a reputation as a Casanova…And what about your wedding vows?’

‘I was too young to tie myself for life.’

‘At the time you assured me you were ready for the responsibilities of marriage.’

‘Well, I thought I was.’

‘So did I. And so did Duncan. But if you’re stupid and immature enough to jump into bed with the first man you regard as gorgeous, we were obviously wrong.’

Flushing, Milly hit back. ‘Oh, you’ve always been so prim and proper. If you’re not careful you’ll end up an old maid, or married to someone as narrow-minded as Trevor.’

‘Suppose you leave me out of it.’ Joanne tried to speak calmly. ‘It’s your future we’re discussing…and Duncan’s. He absolutely adores you. Have you thought what this will do to him?’

‘I never wanted to hurt him,’ Milly said unhappily. ‘But I don’t seem able to help myself. I keep thinking about this wonderful trip to Norway and what I’ll lose if I don’t go.’

‘Try thinking about what you’ll lose if you do go. A future with a good man who loves you, who’ll stand by you; a home of your own, and a chance to make a life together in a beautiful part of the world…

‘Suppose you give up all those things and this wonderful trip doesn’t materialise?’

Seeing the uncertainty on her sister’s young face, Joanne pressed home her advantage. ‘You can’t expect Duncan to wait around tamely to see whether his wife is going to Scotland with him, or to Scandinavia with another man.’

Milly bit her lip. ‘I’ll know by tonight if the trip’s on. Brad’s been away on business for over a week, but he said he’d be back this evening and if the Norway trip needed to go ahead he’d call me.’

‘Here?’

‘Yes. You see, there’s not much time. If it is all systems go, we’ll be travelling tomorrow morning.’

‘What if he doesn’t call?’

Milly twisted her wedding ring round and round her finger. ‘I don’t know. I may go to Scotland…I’m not sure—’

The sound of a key turning in the lock cut through her words, and a moment later a voice called cheerily, ‘Milly, darling, I’m back.’

Scrambling to her feet, Milly said urgently, ‘Jo, you won’t say anything to Duncan until I’ve made up my mind?’

‘Not a word. But if you don’t want him to start asking awkward questions, I suggest that while I finish getting dinner ready you go up and make a start on some packing.’

As the girl hurried away, her bright-blue eyes clouded with worry, Joanne rose heavily to her feet and collected the cups and saucers.

Damn Brad Lancing! she thought violently as she rinsed and dried them. How could he encourage someone who was obviously just an easily-led young girl, and married into the bargain?

Milly might have imagined herself in love with him, but if he hadn’t taken her out to dinner and dangled the bait of this Norwegian trip in front of her she wouldn’t be seriously contemplating leaving Duncan.

Standing wringing the tea towel between her hands as though it was Brad Lancing’s neck, Joanne was still mentally castigating him when the wall-phone, just by her head, rang.

She picked it up on the first ring and gave the number distractedly.

‘Miss Winslow?’ a clear, well-modulated voice asked.

‘Yes.’

‘Brad Lancing. The Norwegian trip is on. I’ll be pleased if you’ll have dinner with me tonight, so we can discuss the travel arrangements…?’

A red mist forming in front of her eyes and the blood pounding in her ears, Joanne was about to tell him who she was, and exactly what she thought of him, when a sudden sense of caution brought her up short.

Would that be wise?

Rather than giving up, a man like him, with no sense of shame, might only keep on trying to contact the girl he had obviously marked down as his next conquest, and somehow she must prevent that at all costs…

While her thoughts raced frantically, part of her mind registered the fact that the attractive voice was going on, ‘I’ll be at Somersby’s at seven-thirty, if you can make it?’

About to say coldly that she couldn’t, Joanne hesitated. Then, reasoning that if she agreed, as he doubtless expected, he would have no cause to argue or phone again, she adopted Milly’s slightly breathy way of speaking, and said, ‘Yes, I’ll be there.’

‘The address is Grant Street, Mayfair. Take a taxi.’

A second later she heard the receiver at the other end being replaced. It seemed he was a man of few words. Which was a blessing. If he’d tried to engage her in conversation it would have been difficult to keep up the pretence.

Even worse, Milly might have put in an appearance, and so long as she believed he hadn’t rung she could well decide to go to Scotland.

Once there, and settled into her new life, surely this temporary infatuation would die a natural death?

Feeling somewhat more cheerful, Joanne went back to preparing the meal.

Everything was in the stove, and she had just started to set the table when a most unwelcome thought presented itself. Brad Lancing had said Somersby’s at seven-thirty…If no one turned up, would he ring again to find out why?

Her blood ran cold. That could prove disastrous.

At seven-thirty they would still be sitting down to their meal, and, expecting him to ring, Milly would hardly hold back and let her sister fob him off.

Well, there was only one thing for it, Joanne decided; she would have to keep the appointment. At least it would give her a chance to tell him to his face just what she thought of men like him…

She heard the sound of the front door closing, and footsteps crossing the hall. A moment later Steve and his fiancée appeared in the doorway.

An inch or so under six feet, and slimly built, Steve was dark-haired and blue-eyed. With a thin, intelligent face and good features, he just missed out on being handsome.

But he was so genuinely nice that Joanne had often wondered why he hadn’t been snapped up. Except he worked so hard that, until a few months ago, there had been no time for a woman in his life.

Then Lisa, small and blonde and as sweet as she was pretty, had come to work for him.

It had been love at first sight, and now with a baby on the way—unplanned, they had admitted sheepishly, but very much wanted—they were busy making arrangements for a late-October wedding.

Sniffing appreciatively, Steve said, ‘Something smells good.’ Then with undisguised eagerness, ‘How did things go with Liam Peters?’

‘Monday morning, first thing, you can send in the troops.’

He gave a whoop of joy and, seizing hold of her, whirled her round until she was breathless.

‘Looks as if you’ve had some good news,’ Duncan remarked as he and Milly joined them.

‘You’re not wrong…And we’re going to have a real celebration! There should be a couple of bottles of bubbly somewhere.’

‘It’s already in the fridge,’ Joanne said.

‘Clever girl!’ Taking a bottle, Steve eased out the cork, poured the wine and, having handed a glass to each of the others, raised his own in salute.

‘Here’s to us, and particularly Jo, who’s managed to swing the deal with Liam Peters, as well as finding time to take care of us all and cook some marvellous meals.’

There was a little burst of cheering, and they all drank. The bubbles made Milly sneeze, and then laugh.

Drawing a deep breath, Joanne took the plunge. ‘I hope it’s a marvellous meal tonight. I’m sorry to say I won’t be here to share it.’

Seeing the surprise on all their faces, she added hurriedly, ‘Trevor forgot it was tonight Milly and Duncan were leaving for Scotland, and he booked expensive seats at a special concert he knew I particularly wanted to go to.’

Perhaps the explanation was a little fulsome, but it was the truth, as far as it went.

What she failed to add was that, on discovering what he’d done, she had paid for her ticket—Trevor wasn’t one to waste money—and suggested that he take his mother instead.

Milly, clearly disappointed, moved closer to her fair-haired husband, who put his arm around her.

Please God, things would work out, Joanne thought, watching them together. Milly was too young to mess up her life.

‘Well, if you won’t be here on our last night,’ Duncan said cheerfully, ‘we shall expect you to be our first visitor when we get settled in.’

‘Done!’

‘Lisa’s staying over,’ Steve said; as he opened the second bottle of wine, ‘so I won’t need to turn out to drive her home…’

Afraid of being late in case Brad Lancing was the impatient sort who might call to see where she’d got to, Joanne left the others talking, and, having rung for a taxi, slipped upstairs to shower and change.

Needing to keep up the pretence of her concert-going, she put on her best silk suit, made up with care, fastened pearl studs onto her neat lobes, and swept her dark hair into an elegant chignon.

When she came down again, Duncan whistled, and Milly nodded approvingly. ‘Not bad. Though I have to say it’s wasted on Trevor.’

Then a little tremulously, ‘Well, I guess we’ll be gone before you get back…’

So she had decided to go. Joanne said a silent prayer of thanks.

With her emotions running high, and feeling the prick of tears behind her eyes, she hugged her sister and brother-in-law and said as brightly as possible, ‘Have a good journey…And as soon as you’re ready for visitors, let me know.’

‘Will do,’ Duncan assured her.

The doorbell announced the arrival of the taxi, and after more quick hugs all round, Joanne said, ‘Well, enjoy your meal,’ and fled before she could disgrace herself by crying.

Somersby’s proved to be a select and stylish restaurant above an art gallery. The taxi dropped Joanne at the awninged entrance, and, her heart beating fast, she climbed a flight of red-carpeted stairs.

At the top, a uniformed attendant was waiting to open the heavy glass doors for her.

As she crossed the luxurious foyer she went over in her mind all the things she intended to say to Brad Lancing. When she had, hopefully, made him squirm, she would walk out.

No, that wasn’t the way to do it. It would be almost three hours before Milly and Duncan started for the station, and in that time, left to his own devices, Lancing might phone and throw a spanner in the works.

She just couldn’t chance it. Somehow she needed to keep him occupied until Milly was safely on the train.

But how?

That still undecided, Joanne found herself facing another dilemma. She had no idea what he looked like. She pictured him as floridly handsome, with bold eyes and a sensual mouth. Possibly even a moustache.

Apart from Duncan, who was good-looking in a boyish, wholesome way, she and Milly had never shared the same taste in men, Milly tending to go for the more blatantly sexual.

Oh, well, if she just walked in, hopefully there wouldn’t be too many men sitting alone waiting for their dates. But it was only seven-twenty-five; suppose he hadn’t yet arrived?

As she hesitated in the doorway, the maître d’ appeared at her elbow. ‘Good evening, madam.’

‘Good evening. I’m joining a Mr Lancing.’

Inclining his head, he murmured, ‘If you’ll come this way?’

Rehearsing in her mind what she was going to say, Joanne followed as he led the way to a small, secluded table in an alcove, where a man with thick dark hair was sitting.

He glanced up at their approach, and then rose politely to his feet.

Over six feet tall and broad-shouldered, his face lean and tanned and, apart from a certain toughness, almost ascetic, he was so unlike the florid, thickset man she had visualised that for a moment she wondered confusedly if the waiter had made a mistake.

But, stopping by the table, he murmured discreetly, ‘Your guest, Mr Lancing.’

Somehow Brad Lancing’s appearance threw her, and instead of the words she had been rehearsing, wits completely scattered, she found herself stammering, ‘M-Mr Lancing…I’m Miss Winslow…but, as you see, the wrong one.’

He raised dark, well-marked brows. ‘Not the one I was expecting, admittedly, but equally charming.’

Hating him on sight, she explained a shade breathlessly, ‘I’m Milly’s sister.’

‘You’re nothing at all like her,’ he observed dispassionately.

‘No.’

‘Won’t you sit down?’

‘Thank you.’

He remained on his feet until the maître d’ had pulled out her chair and settled her, before resuming his own seat.

At least the brute had manners, she conceded.

‘I’m afraid I’m the bringer of bad tidings,’ she said as soon as they were alone.

His eyes were every bit as fascinating as Milly had said. A clear dark green, and put in with a sooty finger, they made her breath quicken as they rested on her face. ‘Nothing too dreadful, I hope?’

‘Milly can’t come,’ she informed him in a rush.

‘I see.’ Then like a rattlesnake striking, ‘You’re the Miss Winslow I spoke to on the phone.’

Shaken by his perspicacity, she found herself admitting, ‘W-well, yes.’

‘In that case you’re not the wrong one at all.’ He smiled a little, drawing her attention to his mouth.

Firm and controlled, yet passionate, it had a combination of warm sensuality and cool austereness that might have made almost any woman drool, and Joanne realised all too clearly why Milly fancied herself in love with him.

She was dragging her gaze away with an effort, when he said softly, ‘Tell me, Miss Winslow, why did you pretend to be your sister?’

‘I—I didn’t…’

Ignoring her instinctive denial, he insisted, ‘Of course you did. You even imitated her voice.’

Weakly, Joanne said, ‘It was just a joke…She wasn’t there, and I…’

‘You were simply answering for her?’

‘Yes.’

‘Do you always answer for your sister?’

‘No, of course not…But I knew she’d want to come…’

‘So why isn’t she here?’

‘Well, just before she was due to start, she had an emergency call from an elderly aunt,’ Joanne improvised wildly. ‘Poor Aunt Alice had just had a bad fall and was refusing to go into hospital. Milly is very fond of her…’

Just for an instant Joanne thought she saw a gleam of unholy amusement in those clear green eyes, but his face showed no trace of a smile as he said, ‘I know how these family relationships can be.’

‘She wasn’t sure how long it would take to get Auntie settled,’ Joanne ploughed on, ‘and she thought she might possibly have to stay the night.’

‘So you came in her place?’

‘Well, yes…I thought I’d better come and explain in person.’

‘Much nicer and more friendly than simply phoning,’ he agreed drily.

It was quite obvious what he was thinking, and suddenly she knew exactly how to play it.

Desperate situations called for desperate measures. If she could flatter his ego, pander to his vanity, make him believe she fancied him, he might ask her to have dinner with him.

If he did she should be able to string him along until Milly was safely out of his clutches. Then she would have the pleasure of telling him exactly what she thought of him.

Trying for a spot of girlish confusion, she admitted, ‘I must confess, I’ve been hoping to meet you.’

‘Really?’ he murmured, a glint in his eye.

‘I’ve heard such a lot about you from Milly.’

A look she couldn’t decipher crossed his face, before he asked ironically, ‘Can any secretary be relied on to say good things about her boss?’

‘Surely that depends on the boss?’ Joanne’s answer was a little sharp, and, reminding herself of the role she had decided to play, she gave him a coy glance from beneath long, silky lashes, and added, ‘If he happens to be a man like you…’

As though genuinely curious, he asked, ‘So what exactly did…Milly…say about me?’

‘She said you were clever, charismatic, and totally charming.’

Just for an instant he looked disconcerted. Then he observed lightly, ‘I might find that description difficult to live up to. However,’ he went on with a touch of self-mockery, ‘rather than let the “world of bosses” down, I’ll try…’

At that moment one of the waiters came up and handed them both a leather-covered menu.

‘Oh…’ Joanne made to rise. ‘I really ought to go and let you have your meal in peace.’

He asked, as she’d been hoping he would, ‘Won’t you stay and dine with me?’

‘Well, I…’

‘Unless your fiancé would object?’

He had sharp eyes, she thought as she answered, ‘No, I’m sure he wouldn’t.’

‘Then please, do stay.’

‘Thank you, I’d like to.’ She made no attempt to hide the eagerness.

‘Would you care for a drink while you look at the menu? Champagne, perhaps?’

The glass of wine she had drunk earlier, combined with all the emotional turmoil, had made her feel strangely light-headed, but she managed a smile, and agreed, ‘That would be lovely.’

He signalled the wine waiter and gave the order.

Within moments, the man was back with a bottle of the finest champagne in an ice bucket. Having gently twirled the bottle for a moment or two, he removed the wiring, eased out the cork, and poured the smoking wine into two flutes, before departing soft-footed.

Joanne was watching the bubbles rise, when her companion raised his glass and, his eyes smiling into hers, said softly, ‘Here’s to an exciting evening.’

She smiled back, and took a cautious sip. With a bit of luck he would get more excitement than he’d bargained for!

CHAPTER TWO

PLAYING for time, Joanne sipped her champagne and scanned the menu for as long as she dared, before choosing a melon starter and a main course of avocado and prawns.

The order given, Brad Lancing fixed her with his handsome eyes, and asked, ‘By the way, as your sister’s spokeswoman, can you tell me if she still intends to go on this Norwegian trip?’

Caught wrong-footed, Joanne hesitated, then said lamely, ‘Well, I think she’d like to.’

Picking up on that uncertainty, he explained, ‘You see, there’s not much time. I have two seats booked on a plane that leaves Heathrow at lunch time, and if your sister is likely to be still tied up with…your auntie I shall need to find myself another secretary.’

And one who was willing to be his bed-companion, no doubt, Joanne thought sourly.

Hoping to give him as much trouble as possible, she assured him, ‘I’m quite sure Milly won’t want to let you down.’

Recklessly, she added, ‘And if by any chance she can’t come, I might even volunteer for the post myself!’

A devilish gleam in his eye, he refilled her glass and said, ‘I might hold you to that. But you’d need to come prepared. The nights can get pretty chilly.’

‘Oh, I’m sure I could cope.’

‘Have you much experience?’

Loathing both him and the double entendre, she gave him a come-hither look and cooed, ‘Oh, yes, lots.’

‘Where are you working now?’ 23

Reluctant to provide too much personal information, she said briefly, ‘Optima Business Services.’

‘Owned by Steven Winslow.’

It was a statement not a question, but she answered, ‘That’s right.’

Brad Lancing seemed to know a great deal. But perhaps Milly had told him?

‘So you act as your brother’s secretary?’ he pursued evenly.

‘I’ve been Steve’s personal assistant for over five years.’

Reacting to her tone, he said, ‘I see.’ Then, a challenge in his voice, ‘And are you a good PA?’

‘If I wasn’t I wouldn’t have kept the job. Neither of us believes in nepotism.’

As soon as the words were out it struck her that she had been replying as herself, rather than the kind of woman she was pretending to be.

Giving him a flirtatious glance, she said in her best girly voice, ‘But I’m not very interesting…I’d much rather talk about you, Mr Lancing.’

His firm mouth twitched. ‘Won’t you call me Brad?’

‘I’d love to, if you call me Joanne.’

‘It will be my pleasure.’

Taking a sip of her champagne, she smiled at him over the rim of the glass. Then, recalling something Milly had once said, she leaned towards him and murmured in a husky voice, ‘I’ve always found handsome, powerful men like you a real turn-on.’

The ‘like you’ was her own contribution.

An expression that might have been amusement flitted across his face, making her wonder if she was overdoing it, but it was gone in an instant, and she decided it must have been self-satisfaction.

Someone as vain and egotistical as he undoubtedly was would lap up any amount of flattery.

He must have been looking forward to a romantic evening with a girl who thought he was wonderful, and being a womaniser, he would no doubt have seduction on his mind.

Well, let him believe she was a pushover. The shock would be all the greater when he discovered that instead of the sex kitten he was hoping for, she was a cat with claws.

For the next hour or so, while they ate what turned out to be a very good meal, Joanne flirted with him shamelessly. Hanging on his every word, she touched his sleeve from time to time and occasionally let her foot nudge his under the table.

Avoiding questions about herself as much as possible, she made an effort to keep the conversation centred on him.

It proved to be harder than she had anticipated.

Most men, even the nicest ones, were usually happy to keep their egos inflated by talking about themselves, but Brad Lancing, while prepared to discuss the business scene, seemed unwilling to divulge anything remotely personal.

Perhaps he was married after all?

If he was, she pitied his poor wife.

‘I suppose you must travel an awful lot?’ Joanne enquired as the waiter brought the liqueur coffees Brad had ordered.

‘Not as much as I used to. These days I only travel if I believe my presence is really essential.’

‘Your wife must be pleased about that,’ she remarked idly, taking a sip of her coffee.

Those green eyes pinned her, making her go oddly fluttery. ‘I’m not married,’ he told her coolly, ‘nor have I ever been remotely tempted to put my head in the silken noose.’

‘Oh…’

With a gleam of mockery, he added, ‘Who was it said, “Love all and marry none”?’

‘Whoever it was, I understand you follow their advice to the letter?’ The sharp words were out before she could prevent them.

‘I have until now,’ he admitted easily. Then with a sidelong glance, ‘You sound as if you disapprove?’

She answered the question with another. ‘Who was it said, “Gather ye rosebuds while ye may”?’

‘Now, that one I can answer. Herrick.’

His voice, as well as being attractive, was educated, but, not having put him down as a man who would take much interest in poetry, she was surprised by his knowledge.

‘Do you agree with the sentiment?’ he pursued.

‘I suppose so,’ she admitted, ‘though I haven’t had much time for gathering rosebuds.’

‘Why not?’

She replied briefly, ‘When our parents died in a train crash I left college to take over the running of the house.’

‘How old were you then?’

‘Nineteen.’

‘And you went to work for your brother at the same time?’

‘Yes.’

‘How many were there in the family?’

‘Just three. Steve, who’s the eldest, myself, and Milly, who was only a schoolgirl.’

‘So you’ve been a mother to your younger sister?’

‘You could say that.’

Seeing he was about to probe further, she forced a bright smile, and changed the subject. ‘I understand that you’ll be in Norway for six weeks or so?’

‘That’s right.’

‘It seems a long time for a business trip. Are you planning a new project?’

‘No. Just sorting out a family business that’s been in existence for generations.’

‘A family business?’ she echoed in surprise. ‘Surely Lancing isn’t a Norwegian name?’

‘No, it was my mother who came from Norway. Her father was Norwegian and her mother English. An only child, she lived with her parents in Bergen until she met and married my father.

‘After that she only returned to Norway for holidays, though the family remained close until she was killed in an accident just over a year ago.

‘When my grandfather died shortly afterwards he left me the Dragon Shipping Line and hotel business he’d spent his entire life running.

‘Since then there have been quite a few problems, and a while ago I sent one of my best men over there to deal with them.

‘Paul was fairly sure he was well on his way to sorting them out without needing me, but during the last couple of months things have started to go wrong again.

‘Then this morning something more serious happened that made up his mind that he needed my help, and he contacted me to say he thinks I should go after all.

‘If the problems had been resolved I would probably have left my trip until the spring. But as it is, I can’t let things drift until then.’

Starting to feel more than a little woozy, she asked, ‘Why spring?’

‘Because, though September is a wonderful time to hike in the hills, Norway is particularly beautiful in the spring when the ice is breaking up and the rivers are in spate…

‘You see, as well as dealing with the business side, it’s my intention to take some time off and have a break.

‘Due to pressure of work I haven’t had a proper holiday for a couple of years, and I haven’t been to Norway for more than a few days at a time on business.

‘I’m very fond of my mother’s homeland, so the thought of taking a real holiday there is an enticing prospect…’

Enticing enough to almost make Milly leave her husband, Joanne thought bitterly.

He raised a winged brow. ‘Judging by your expression, you don’t think so?’

‘Not at all,’ she disagreed hastily. ‘I’ve always thought Norway must be wonderful. Which part are you going to?’

‘Bergen. Have you ever been there?’

‘No.’

‘Have you done much travelling?’

‘Not since my parents died. Though I did have a long-weekend break earlier this year.’

‘Where did you choose to go?’

‘I was hoping to go to Rome, but Trevor favoured Amsterdam.’ Now, what on earth had made her tell him that?

Picking up her left hand, he examined the diamond solitaire she wore. ‘Trevor being your fiancé?’

After a brief hesitation, she said, ‘Yes.’

He stroked over her knuckles with his thumb, sending a shiver through her. ‘But obviously he’s not the jealous type?’

‘No.’ Restive beneath his touch, she withdrew her hand, and glanced a shade muzzily at her watch. Milly and Duncan should be away from the house in the next five minutes or so…

‘You seem eager to leave,’ Brad commented lightly.

She was. Her mission accomplished, she couldn’t wait to end the charade and escape. ‘Well, if you need to make a fairly early start tomorrow…’

‘Yes, you’re quite right,’ he agreed, signalling the waiter. ‘It’s time we were making a move.’

High time. Drawing a deep breath, she turned to tell him exactly what she thought of him, but just at that instant the waiter arrived.

While Brad paid the bill, and added a generous tip, she glanced around. There were still quite a few people within earshot, and, disliking the idea of making a scene in the quiet restaurant, she decided to wait until they were outside.

When she had picked up her bag he drew back her chair, and she rose to her feet a shade unsteadily. A hand cupping her elbow, he escorted her out of the restaurant and across the foyer.

Distinctly light-headed, she had to make herself concentrate as they descended the red-carpeted stairs. A couple of steps from the bottom, she stumbled, and he was forced to steady her.

At the entrance, a sleek grey limousine was drawn up, a liveried chauffeur holding open the door. Before Joanne could gather her wits Brad had handed her in and was sitting beside her.

‘I’d intended to get a taxi,’ she said in belated and breathless protest as they drew away. ‘Oh?’

Without turning his head, the chauffeur asked, ‘Straight home, sir?’

‘Yes, please, Gregory.’ Brad touched a button and the glass partition between the driver and his passengers closed. A moment later blinds slid into place, covering both the partition and the windows.

Taking immediate advantage of the softly lit intimacy, he caressed her silk-clad knee.

Flinching away in a sudden panic, and wishing desperately that she hadn’t been foolish enough to get into the car in the first place, Joanne announced as firmly as possible, ‘I live in Fulham, and I—’

‘Yes, I know.’ He drew her close, and an instant later his mouth was covering hers.

Shocked by the suddenness of the move and by the tumult of feeling his kiss evoked, for a moment or two she made no attempt to free herself.

When, remembering just who was kissing her, she pulled herself together and began to struggle, his arms merely tightened and he deepened the kiss.

Terrified now, she began to struggle in earnest, but he was so much stronger than she had realised, and he held her easily.

Tearing her mouth free, she gasped, ‘Leave me alone. I don’t want you to touch me…’

Looking completely unruffled, he remarked, ‘From the way you’ve been behaving, I rather thought you were inviting it.’

‘Well, you were wrong. I want to go home,’ she added shakily.

‘That’s where we are going.’

‘My home,’ she insisted.

‘Somehow I’d got the impression that, in spite of being engaged, you’d intended to come home with me.’

Her heart throwing itself against her ribs, she said hoarsely, ‘Well, you were wrong! I’d like you to tell your chauffeur to stop and let me get out right this minute.’

Raising his dark brows in mock-surprise, he queried, ‘So what made you change your mind?’

‘I haven’t changed my mind. I—’

‘I’m pleased to hear it.’

Ignoring the interruption, she rushed on, ‘I haven’t changed my mind because I never had the slightest intention of going home with you.’

His voice holding more than a hint of soft menace, he said, ‘I wouldn’t like to think you’d been leading me on just for the hell of it.’

She swallowed hard. ‘I haven’t been leading you on just for the hell of it—’

‘Well, as you have undoubtedly been leading me on, perhaps you’d like to tell me why?’

‘Because I needed to keep you occupied, to prevent you contacting Milly,’ she admitted in a rush.

He smiled grimly. ‘So your sister was at home all the time? Oddly enough I never did believe in poor Auntie Alice…

‘But I’m afraid I don’t understand why you were prepared to go to such lengths to stop me contacting my own secretary?’

‘If you had spoken to her she would have dropped everything and come.’

‘I see,’ he said slowly. ‘And you thought she might be…keeping my bed warm tonight?’

‘I know she would.’

‘You don’t know anything of the kind.’

‘She’s infatuated with you.’

‘And you blame me for that?’

‘Of course I blame you. She told me how you’d taken her out to dinner, and the way you’d looked at her.

‘If I hadn’t discovered what was going on, and happened to intercept your phone call, she would have risked everything to be here.’

He frowned. ‘Risked everything?’

Into her stride now, Joanne rushed on, ‘Steve told me you had a rotten reputation as far as women were concerned, but I never dreamt that even a swine like you would go after a girl who’s only eighteen and married into the bargain—’

‘Married?’ He sounded startled.

‘Don’t pretend you didn’t know.’

Her face full of contempt, she lashed out at him verbally. ‘You’re a miserable, womanising bastard, and totally without principles!

‘You dangled the bait of a Norwegian trip in front of her until she was almost prepared to break up her marriage and go to Norway with you, rather than move to Scotland with her husband—’

‘Would you care to slow down a little…? I’m getting confused. I thought she lived with you?’

‘She does, and so does her husband…Or rather they did. They’ll soon be on their way to Edinburgh to live, and hopefully Milly will be well out of reach of lecherous men like you…’ Running out of breath, Joanne stopped abruptly.

‘Now I’m beginning to understand,’ Brad said evenly. ‘Presumably they’re taking the night sleeper, and you wanted to keep me occupied until your sister was safely on board and couldn’t change her mind…’

‘That’s right.’ Joanne made no secret of her triumph. ‘Now, if you’ll ask your chauffeur to stop and let me get out…’

When he made no move she threatened shakily, ‘If you don’t I’ll start screaming.’

Calmly, he said, ‘Even if I allowed you to scream, I doubt very much if anyone would hear…’

Recalling both his strength and his total lack of scruples, she shuddered.

‘And I can’t help but feel you owe me…’

When she said nothing he pointed out, ‘You seem quite certain that your sister would have been sharing my bed tonight.’

‘Well, I’m not Milly,’ she cried desperately.

‘But earlier you agreed that you’d come in her place. You even boasted that you were experienced.’

Watching all the colour drain from her face, he observed mockingly, ‘Now you’re acting more like a frightened schoolgirl than a woman with lots of experience.’

He ran his hand up her thigh and, his voice smooth as satin, queried, ‘You did say “lots”?’

She pushed his hand away, and seeing the gleam in his eye, realised he was enjoying baiting her, getting a little of his own back.

Suddenly afraid of how far he’d go, she begged, ‘Please don’t.’

‘That’s better,’ he applauded.

‘Will you let me get out?’ Despite all her efforts her voice shook betrayingly as she added, ‘Please.’

His dark, well-shaped head tilted a little to one side, he pretended to consider. Then he said ironically, ‘As you’re asking so prettily, and I don’t want to add kidnapping to my list of crimes, I’ll be happy to take you home. Where do you live, exactly?’

She gave him her address.

He pressed a button, and, speaking into a small grille, ordered, ‘Gregory, I’d like you to go straight to Fulham and drop Miss Winslow at twenty three Carlisle Street.’

‘Thank you,’ she said through gritted teeth.

Settling himself back into his seat, Brad turned to her and asked seriously, ‘Suppose I told you that you’re totally mistaken about my relationship with your sister? That as far as I’m concerned she’s simply a nice girl and an efficient secretary?’

So now he was trying to excuse himself, make himself out to be whiter than white.

As she remembered the way he had slid his hand up her thigh Joanne’s blood boiled.

‘Knowing what kind of man you are, I wouldn’t believe a word of it,’ she said contemptuously, and moved as far away from him as the seat would allow.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Get your hands off me, you—’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘No,’ she said after a moment.

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

‘Did he?’ she stonewalled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘I only met him recently.’

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

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

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

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

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

That was a laugh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Especially that last devastating kiss.

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

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

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

It was unthinkable.

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

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

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

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

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

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

The words died on her lips.

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

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

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

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

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

‘Can’t you guess?’

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

His eyes glinted at her tone. ‘You.’

‘What?’ she said stupidly.

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

‘Offer? What offer?’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Are you sure that’s wise?’

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

She shivered.

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

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

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

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

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

‘Then we do have something to talk about.’

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

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

‘I’ve already told you, I wouldn’t.’

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

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

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

CHAPTER THREE

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

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

It was the last thing she had expected.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘What makes you think that?’

‘It’s true isn’t it?’ 41

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

‘Really?’ he drawled.

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

‘For Liam Peters?’

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Well, wherever you got the information—’

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

‘I don’t know what you mean.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘It’s a subsidiary of Lancing International.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So this was what Milly had been asked for.

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

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

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

‘I’ve got a fiancé.’

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

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

He laughed, as though that was a silly question.

And perhaps, in the circumstances, it was.

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

‘But Milly wasn’t free to—’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And it would be all her fault.

If only she had had more sense…

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

The answer was, she couldn’t.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘What kind of a mix-up?’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘You’re going to ring him?’

‘Yes.’

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

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

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