Hidden Mistress, Public Wife

‘No.’ Ivy shrugged. ‘Her choice. And I don’t mind. Sacha never felt like a real mother to me. I was brought up by my father. That was her choice, too.’

‘But you came for her tonight.’

‘She always made the effort to come to events that were important to me.’

‘Like what?’

‘School concerts, graduation. Whenever I wanted both parents there for me.’

‘Will you be staying the weekend with her?’

‘No.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because I’d rather go home.’

‘Which is where?’

‘About a hundred kilometres from here.’

She wasn’t about to identify her location to him. The farm’s website gave it away and he might have read it when he decided to use their service for his rose gifts.

‘That’s quite a drive late at night.’

‘It won’t be late. People drift out of here after a couple of hours.’ She gave him an ironic grimace. ‘You whisked me off before I could get a brochure detailing the paintings from Henry. Did he give you one?’

‘Yes.’ He took it out of his jacket pocket and handed it to her.

Ivy withdrew her arm from his and checked the numbers of the nearby paintings against the list in the brochure, determined on deflecting his physical effect on her. ‘Right!’ she said briskly, pointing to number fifteen. ‘This is Courtyard in Sunshine. Do you like it?’

He folded his arms and considered it, obligingly falling in with her direction. ‘Very pleasant but a bit too chocolate-boxy for me.’

Privately Ivy agreed, but the painting already had a red sticker on it indicating a sale, so somebody had liked it. ‘Okay. Let’s move on. Find something that does appeal to you.’

‘Oh, I’ve already found that,’ he drawled in a seductive tone, compelling Ivy to shoot a glance at him.

The bedroom-blue eyes had her targeted. It was like being hit by an explosion of sexual promise that fired up a host of primitive desires. She had lusted mildly over some movie stars, but in real life … this was a totally new and highly unsettling experience. She didn’t even like this man … did she?

‘You’re wasting your time flirting with me,’ she bluntly told him.

‘There’s nothing else I’d rather do,’ he declared, grinning as though her rebuff delighted him.

Ivy huffed at his persistence. ‘Well, if you must tag along in my wake, you’ll have to look properly at every painting or I’ll lose patience with you.’

‘If I buy one or two of them, will you have dinner with me?’

Had Ivy not been wearing such dangerous shoes, she would have stamped her foot. As it was, she glared at him in high dudgeon. ‘That is the most incredibly offensive thing anyone has ever said to me!’

He actually looked taken aback by her attack. The dent in his confidence gave Ivy a wild rush of satisfaction. Jordan Powell wasn’t going to find her easy.

He frowned. ‘I thought it would please you to have your mother pleased tonight.’

‘My mother has enough talent to draw buyers to her work or Henry wouldn’t have it hanging in his gallery,’ she retorted fiercely. ‘She doesn’t need me to sell myself to have a successful exhibition.’ Her chin lifted in proud defiance of his obvious belief that anyone could be bought. ‘I wouldn’t do it anyway.’

He grimaced an apology. ‘I didn’t mean …’

‘Oh, yes you did,’ she cut in. ‘I bet you think that all you have to do is offer your little goodies and any woman will fall in your lap.’

The grimace took on an ironic twist. ‘I wouldn’t call them little goodies.’

He might not have meant to put a sexual twist on those words, but Ivy felt her cheeks flame as an image of his naked body bloomed in her mind. ‘I don’t care how big they are,’ she insisted vehemently. ‘Why don’t you go on back to your mother? I don’t fit into your scene and never will.’

And having cut his feet out from under him, Ivy fully expected him to go. It would be the most sensible solution to the warring urge inside her to take what he was offering. Just to see, to know, to feel …

Which would inevitably end badly with her being discarded as he discarded all the rest.

CHAPTER FOUR

JORDAN was faced with a decision he wasn’t used to facing. No woman had ever told him to leave her alone. No woman had ever thrown so many negatives at him, either. Maybe Ivy Thornton wouldn’t fit into his scene and he should walk away, stop wasting his time with her.

But he didn’t want to walk away.

He liked her thorns.

They made her more intriguing, more challenging than the women in ‘his scene’. And the fire-power coming from her incited visions of passion, lifting her desirability to virtually a must-have level. Just the sight of her had excited him. His fingertips itched to graze over every hidden part of her pale, almost translucent skin, not to mention stroking through the red-gold hair guarding her most intimate places.

Missing out on that … no.

He had to win her over.

‘Never say never, Ivy. Things can change,’ he said mildly, hoping to undermine her hard stance.

‘I can’t see that happening.’ The fascinating green eyes flashed scepticism, but the tone of her voice was not so fierce.

‘It was crass of me to link buying your mother’s paintings to my invitation to dinner and I apologise for the offence given,’ he went on, projecting absolute sincerity. ‘Please take it as a measure of how much I wanted you to accept, how much I wanted to spend more time with you.’

She frowned. After a few moments of cogitation, she gave him a narrow look that telegraphed he was on shaky ground, but her words granted him a second chance. ‘Well, if you still want to accompany me around the gallery, I’ll go that far with you.’

Triumph zinged through his mind. He only just managed to keep his smile appealingly rueful. ‘I shall monitor my conversation with rigid regard to your sensibilities.’

It drew a laugh. ‘I don’t think you can hide your true colours, Jordan. Getting your own way must be habitual. You have all the tools to do it. Wealth, looks and charm to boot.’

He affected a helpless expression. ‘None of which appear to carry any weight with you.’

She laughed again, shaking her head at him. ‘I can’t deny you’re entertaining.’

He grinned. ‘So are you, Ivy. I’ve just found a masochistic streak in myself. You can put me down as much as you like and I’ll pop up for more.’