Australia: In Bed with the Playboy: Hidden Mistress, Public Wife / The Secret Mistress / Claiming His Mistress

A billionaire would be a great catch for a farm girl.

Except the billionaire had no intention of being caught.

But he did want more of Ivy Thornton. A lot more. And he could not believe she didn’t want more of him. So he would give chase, ensuring their connection would only end when he wanted it to end.

‘Did she tell you where she was going?’

‘Home.’

He grimaced with impatience at the short reply. ‘Can you be more specific, Margaret? I know Ivy works on a farm, but I don’t know its location.’

‘An hour’s drive from here, she said.’

He threw up his hands. ‘Too vague!’

‘Sorry. I can’t help on that point. If you want my opinion, I think she was deeply embarrassed at being found in your home and couldn’t get out fast enough. Very different to others I might mention who were positively smug about being here with you. And since she didn’t give you any contact details, it doesn’t look like she wants you to pursue her.’

He frowned. Maybe this wasn’t a calculated move. Margaret was very good at reading character. Possibly Ivy was shocked at herself. He’d taken advantage of her shock last night, sweeping her along with him. But she’d been fine in his bed. Fantastic in his bed! However, if she wasn’t used to having sex with a man on a first date…was she ashamed of herself for crossing some moral standard?

Which might mean…oh, hell! If she was a good girl, not on any contraceptive pill…he’d totally ignored that issue last night, deciding to deal with it later. If taking that risk had hit her this morning…if there was a very real possibility she had fallen pregnant…she might have been overwhelmed by a sense of panic.

‘I have to find her, Margaret.’ He started tramping around the kitchen, raking his hair in agitation. ‘I have to!’ It wasn’t just the pregnancy question, he couldn’t tolerate the idea of never seeing Ivy again, never having her again.

‘Not that it’s any of my business,’ Margaret said with an air of making it hers this once. ‘But it’s my observation that you’re not into having serious relationships with women, Jordan, and Ivy Thornton didn’t strike me as a sophisticated playgirl. It might be a kindness to respect her decision and let her go. Simply write her off as the one that got away.’

‘No! No!’ The emphatic negatives exploded off his tongue. He glared at Margaret, who looked stunned by the explosiveness of his reaction. ‘I can’t!’ he added decisively, not wanting to explain why. ‘I have to find her,’ he repeated in teeth-gritting determination.

‘And then what?’ Margaret asked, critical brown eyes putting him on the spot, holding judgement on his motives.

Ruthless purpose swept straight past the uncertainties in his mind. ‘Then she can tell me to my face that she doesn’t want anything more to do with me.’

Ivy wouldn’t be able to do it, not with any honesty.

‘Fair enough,’ Margaret conceded. ‘What would you like for breakfast this morning?’

She slid off her stool, ready to get down to business.

Jordan was infuriated by her matter-of-fact dismissal of his intense frustration with the situation. And breakfast was the last thing he wanted to consider right now. He shook a finger at her and fiercely declared, ‘Ivy Thornton is not going to be the one who got away!’

Margaret stopped and stared at him as though he’d suddenly metamorphosed into a stranger. ‘Sorry if I spoke out of turn,’ she said with uncharacteristic meekness. ‘It was just…I liked her, Jordan. And I wouldn’t like it if you hunted her down and hurt her.’

‘I have no intention of hurting her.’

Margaret pressed her lips together, buttoning up against offending him with any further comment, but her eyes definitely challenged him to keep that stated intention. He would be the lesser man in her estimation if he didn’t.

Ivy had clearly made a more strongly positive impression on her than any of the other women he’d brought here.

‘I like her, too, Margaret,’ he said more quietly. ‘Very much.’

She nodded, still tight-lipped.

He sighed.

Battle lines were drawn.

He now had to win over Ivy—and make her happy to be with him—in order to win over Margaret or he’d be getting burnt breakfasts. Possibly even worse! She might walk out on him, too!

A burst of adrenaline raised his fighting instincts.

Jordan was not a man to back down from a challenge.

One way or another, he’d have what he wanted!

CHAPTER EIGHT (#ulink_737722c6-a4ae-59a9-a123-92a72da5680e)

IVY kept telling herself she’d been absolutely right to get out of Jordan Powell’s life, but her body was still fired up by the memory of him, and it was quite impossible to get him out of her head. Being home on the farm didn’t really help. She couldn’t stop imagining how it might have been if she’d spent the weekend with him in his beautiful Balmoral home.

It was a hot morning and shaping up to be an even hotter day. A quick dip in his gorgeous swimming pool would have been lovely, not to mention…

The ringing of the telephone was a welcome distraction. She dived on the receiver, hoping the caller would ground her in real life again. No such luck! It was her mother, who instantly recalled everything about last night.

‘Ivy, I’ve just had Jordan Powell on the line.’

Her heart kicked into overdrive. ‘What did he want?’ she asked, her voice uncharacteristically shrill. With fear or excitement?

‘Well, I thought it was rather odd. You did go out with him last night and you looked as though you were enjoying his company, but since you obviously didn’t give him your address…was that an oversight, dear, or don’t you want to see him again?’

A bomb of anxiety exploded in her mind. ‘Did you tell him where I lived?’

‘No. He was very charming. Always is. But I thought I’d better check with you first.’

Relief poured through Ivy. She didn’t have to face Jordan again, didn’t have to battle against her attraction to him. Her decision to leave had definitely been right and it was much easier to hold on to it from a distance. This call proved how shaky her resolution could be, given his immediate presence.

‘I’m glad you did,’ she said in a calmer tone. ‘He’s not for me. Good for a night out, but I’d rather leave it there.’

‘Are you sure, dear?’

‘I’m sure. Thank you for protecting my privacy. I really appreciate it. And congratulations on the show. Lots of sales last night.’

‘Yes. Very gratifying. And it was lovely to see you looking so stunning, Ivy. Living right up to your full potential. I felt so proud of you.’

It was a nice feeling to have pleased her mother. Ivy relaxed enough to smile as she remarked, ‘Well, I didn’t want to let you down again and it felt really good when Henry’s jaw dropped at seeing me. He’s such a snob!’

‘But he’s very adept at wooing the right crowd at his gallery, dear, bringing in people with the money to buy. It’s a pity I have to disappoint a good client like Jordan Powell…’ She sighed. ‘Are you absolutely certain you wouldn’t like to see him again, Ivy?’

‘Yes, I am. I don’t fit into his kind of life and he wouldn’t fit into mine. End of story,’ she said emphatically, ignoring the flutters in her stomach and forcefully remembering the way Jordan’s housekeeper had checked her over—the latest candidate for her employer’s bed.

‘Well, in that case, my lips are sealed. Such a shame!’ Sacha muttered and disconnected.