The Boss's Secret Mistress

‘So that wasn’t Alex Simpson,’ he drawled on, ‘and you aren’t about to share an evening meal with him and he isn’t currently staying at your flat and you haven’t lied to me about your involvement with him.’

Tory saw from his face that she would be wasting her time, telling the truth. Any inclination on his part to kiss and make up had departed with Alex’s appearance at the door.

‘There’s no point in this,’ she muttered to herself and would have walked away if a hand hadn’t shot out to keep her there.

She tried to pull her arm free. When she couldn’t, she lifted her other hand, intending to push him away. He was too quick for her. He grabbed both her wrists and dragged her round until he had her backed against his car.

He did it with the minimum of force. Only her pride was really hurt.

She snapped at him, ‘Let me go!’

‘Okay.’ He released her but stood so close she was still trapped and asked, ‘Is Simpson’s wife filing for divorce?’

She frowned at the unexpected question. ‘Yes, possibly. Why?’

‘Well, that explains the need to keep quiet,’ he concluded, ‘if not the attraction.’

His eyes narrowed in contempt and Tory found herself flaring back, ‘You know nothing!’

‘You’re right. I don’t,’ he agreed in the same vein. ‘I don’t know why a bright, beautiful young woman would waste herself on a washed-up has-been with a wife, two kids and a drink habit to support… Perhaps you could enlighten me?’

‘Alex isn’t a has-been!’ Tory protested angrily, recalling the programme outlines they’d prepared to impress this man. Some of their ideas were good, damn good. All futile, now, it would seem. ‘And he doesn’t have a drink problem.’

He threw her a look of pity.

‘Who says love doesn’t walk around with a white cane and guide dog?’

She threw him back a look of fury.

‘I’m not in love with Alex Simpson! I never have been in love with Alex Simpson. I never shall be. I don’t even believe in love!’

She spoke in no uncertain terms and speculation replaced pity in his gaze, but he still didn’t release her.

‘So you don’t love Simpson,’ he mused aloud. ‘You don’t love anybody. I wonder what gets you through the day, Tory Lloyd?’

‘My work,’ she answered, both literally and figuratively. ‘That’s what’s important to me. That’s all that’s important to me.’

He shook his head, then leaned towards her to say in a low voice, ‘If that’s true, Simpson must be goddamn lousy in bed.’

Tory reacted with shocked disbelief. ‘Do you have to be so…so…?’

‘Accurate?’

‘Crude!’

‘I can’t help it,’ he claimed. ‘I am American, after all.’

His tone was serious, but inside he was laughing. At her.

‘Is that what you like about Simpson? Is he suitably refined?’

‘More so than you, at any rate.’

Tory had, by this time, given up worrying about job security.

Lucas Ryecart had also abandoned any effort to be a fair, reasonable employer.

‘I won’t argue with that.’ He shrugged off any insult, before drawling, ‘But at least I have a certain homespun notion of morality.’

‘Really?’ Tory sniffed.

‘Yes, really,’ he echoed. ‘If I were married, I wouldn’t dump my wife and kids just because a newer, prettier model came along—’

‘That’s not the way it was,’ Tory almost spat at him, ‘and who knows what you’d do. You’re not married, are you?’

‘Not currently, but I was.’ His face clouded briefly.

Tory could have kicked herself. She’d forgotten momentarily his connection with Jessica Wainwright.

‘And when I was married, I was faithful,’ he added quietly.

Tory believed him. He hadn’t cheated on Jessica. He hadn’t cheated because he’d adored her.

Her anger faded as she wondered if he still grieved but she didn’t want to probe further. She was uncomfortable with the whole subject.

‘Mr Ryecart,’ she replied at length, ‘I don’t feel this is any of my business.’

‘It will be, Miss Lloyd,’ he mocked her formality, ‘come the day I take you away from Simpson.’

‘What?’

‘I said—’

‘I heard!’ She just didn’t believe him. Was it a joke?

Blue eyes caught and held hers. They told her it was no joke.

‘I’ve decided I am interested, after all,’ he stated dispassionately.

They could have been discussing a business deal. She was to be his latest acquisition. Take over, asset strip, move on.

‘I thought you were too old for me,’ Tory reminded him pointedly.

‘I’d have said so, yes,’ he agreed in dry tones, ‘but as you’re already living with someone of my advanced years, you obviously don’t share my reservations.’

‘I am not living with Alex,’ she seethed in denial.

‘You’re simply good friends, right?’ He slanted her a sceptical look.