The Boss's Secret Mistress

His grip was firm and strong and it jolted her, as if his touch were electric. Warmth spread through her like a slow fire.

Quite alarming. To be turned on by a handshake. Even the thought brought a flush to her pale cheeks.

He noticed it and smiled. Did he know?

‘You’re very young,’ he said, out of nowhere.

She shook her head. ‘I’m twenty-six.’

‘That’s young.’ He smiled without mockery. ‘I’m forty-one.’

Tory’s eyes widened, betraying her surprise. He didn’t look it.

‘Too old, I reckon,’ he added, shaking his head.

‘For what?’ Tory asked rather naively.

‘For girls young enough to be my daughter,’ he concluded, laughing at himself now.

No, you’re not. Tory almost said the words aloud. But why, when she wanted rid of him? Didn’t she?

She looked down. They were still holding hands. She slipped from his grip. The warmth between them remained.

‘Colin Mathieson told me you were in your thirties,’ he recalled next.

Tory’s heart sank a little. Colin believed she was in her thirties. It was a wrong impression fostered by Alex when he’d employed her for the job.

‘Perhaps he was thinking of someone else,’ Tory suggested weakly.

‘Perhaps,’ he echoed. ‘Anyway, if I’d known your real age, I wouldn’t have asked you out.’

It was Tory’s turn to frown. Did he have some religious objection to women under thirty? Or did he imagine her too immature to interest him?

‘You didn’t,’ she pointed out.

‘Didn’t I?’ He arched a brow before admitting, ‘Well, it had been my game plan. I guess I didn’t get round to it.’

Now she was too young or inexperienced or whatever for him to bother, Tory surmised with some anger, surely irrational.

‘It was Colin who gave me your address,’ he went on. ‘I told him I wanted to talk to you about Simpson.’

Alex? For a moment or two Tory had forgotten about Alex.

She could tell the American, of course. She could invite him in so he could meet a sober, industrious Alex. Did it matter if he jumped to the wrong conclusions about him being there?

Tory found it did matter, so she said nothing.

‘Did you manage to locate him, by the way?’ Lucas enquired directly.

She nodded.

‘He’s looking forward to meeting you,’ she fabricated. ‘I believe he has some future projects he wishes to discuss.’

Lucas Ryecart looked mildly surprised but didn’t challenge it.

‘Good.’ He then began to say, ‘I guess I’d better leave you to your meal—’ when the door opened behind Tory.

She turned to see Alex and this time her heart plummeted. He was holding his jacket, obviously on his way out. On seeing her, his face clouded with guilt.

Tory was quick to realise where he’d been going. Tired of waiting for the meal, he’d been off in search of liquid refreshment.

‘There you are.’ Alex recovered quickly. ‘I was worried you’d got lost and was coming to look for you.’

‘No, I…’ She glanced between the two men but made no effort to introduce them.

Lucas Ryecart, of course, knew exactly who Alex was. His eyes briefly registered the other man, then slid back to Tory and didn’t leave her. Dark blue eyes, cold with anger.

‘Sorry—’ Alex picked up on the sudden drop in temperature ‘—I can see I’m in the way. Would you like me to disappear for an hour or two? Let you have the flat to yourself?’

Tory could have groaned aloud. Alex made it sound as if they were sharing the place.

‘I…no, don’t do that, Alex.’ She’d spent all day getting his mind back on work. She wasn’t giving him a chance to go AWOL on her.

It was the wrong answer as far as Lucas Ryecart was concerned.

‘No, don’t do that, Alex,’ he mimicked her anxious tone, reading too much—far too much—into it. ‘Miss Lloyd and I have finished any business between us for now.’

Having said his piece, he turned and walked away.

‘Damn!’ Tory swore in frustration.

Alex, having registered an American accent, began, ‘Was that—?’

‘Yes!’ Tory confirmed and, half tripping over the Chinese take-away, picked the bags up and shoved them at Alex. ‘Carry these in!’

Then she raced down the steps and across the street in time to catch Lucas Ryecart opening the door of the Range Rover.

‘Wait, please,’ she appealed before he could climb behind the steering wheel.

He stopped and turned. His expression was now remote, as if he’d already dismissed her from his mind, but, after a moment’s deliberation, he closed the car door and leaned against it.

‘Okay, I’m waiting.’ He folded muscular sinewy arms across a broad chest.

Tory saw tension and anger beneath the apparently casual gesture. ‘I…um…just wanted to clear up any possible misunderstanding. About Alex being there, I mean. You see…well, it’s not—’

‘How it seems?’ he cut across her ramblings with a mocking lift of one dark brow.

‘Yes, ‘ she confirmed, ‘I mean, no, it isn’t.’