Mistress by Mistake

On impulse he flicked the feathery end of one ebony curl that lay against her temple. There was a definite blue sheen to her hair when the weak winter light caught it. Against his fingers the texture was just as silky as it appeared. Eve leapt back as if he’d struck her.

‘Don’t touch me!’ she breathed, shaking her head to dispel the warm, muzzy sensation that filled her brain. The messages whizzing around in her head seemed to be having trouble connecting.

Drew Cummings held up his hands in mock surrender. ‘Sounds like the best advice I’ve had all day.’ He didn’t go in for spontaneous physical contact with strangers, and he felt annoyed with himself for doing so now. ‘Tell me, do you always act like something out of a Victorian melodrama? It must get exhausting living with you.’

Eve chewed down hard on her full underlip, well aware that her instinctive response had been way over the top. ‘I think it’s perfectly legitimate for me to be nervous after you manhandled me earlier.’

‘I was as gentle as a lamb. Remarkably restrained, actually.’

‘Really?’ she said scornfully. She lifted both hands and let the sleeves of her thin top fall back. ‘Pardon my scepticism.’ The faint blue discoloration made by his fingertips showed clearly on the pale skin of her wrists.

His vivid blue eyes deepened abruptly to navy blue, and a deep line appeared between his brows. ‘I didn’t do that.’ His voice held an edge of revulsion.

The impact her display had made surprised Eve. She’d expected some slick, sarcastic retort. ‘No? Let your mind slip back a few hours. You were hauling me about like a sack of coal.’

‘God, I’m really sorry. I had no idea.’ He reached out and firmly took her hands. Eve searched his face curiously and saw only genuine concern. This wasn’t just a line he was shooting her, she realised. He really was sorry. ‘Dear God, you must be fragile. I can only say it was unintentional.’

Her slim build hid a wiry strength, not on a par with his, but nonetheless she was no delicate flower. Eve didn’t point this out. The constriction in her throat made it hard to point anything out.

This time she didn’t recoil. That strange slow motion thing was happening again, and she didn’t have the will or desire to fight it. She let herself go with the flow. Drew turned her arm slowly over and back again, examining the blue-veined inner aspect of her forearm. His own hands were nicely shaped—big, capable hands, with long, tapering fingers.

‘There’s no need to make a fuss about it,’ she began, trying to put some emphasis into her husky-sounding voice. She could see the fine lines which time would etch deeper radiating from the corners of his eyes. Letting her flickering, wary gaze dwell on the deep azure warmth of his eyes made her feel dizzy. On the whole she had felt a lot better when those eyes had been ice chips. A man holding your hand should have no effect whatsoever on the stability of your knees, she told herself sternly—it made no sense at all.

He’d had enough time to make a map of the area by now! The soft contact was incredibly abrasive to her vulnerable nerve-endings. Nobody would have guessed from the activity of her heart that she was in the peak of physical condition. This wayward organ was pumping at a rate of knots, and her breath was coming in short breathy gasps.

What did he think he was doing anyhow? Running fingers that had never seen an honest day’s work in their lives over her skin. Eve had had some very uncomfortable interviews with bankers in her time. More important, what was she doing letting him?

‘It’s nothing…I bruise easily. I only told you to make you feel guilty.’ She didn’t add that she hadn’t expected to succeed.

‘You smell…’ His voice was kind of distracted, and when he lifted his head from his prolonged contemplation of his handiwork she saw his blue eyes were still burning with a very worrying light. Eve thought it wise not to dwell too long on those hot, hungry eyes.

‘I’m sorry my personal hygiene doesn’t meet with your approval.’ She dredged around and from somewhere managed to find sarcasm.

‘Nice,’ he growled. ‘You smell nice. I don’t recognise the perfume.’ Without actually touching her he inclined his head to breathe in the fragrance of her hair. The sudden compulsion bothered him—annoyed him. And it showed in the downturn of his lips.

‘It’s soap. Probably the medicated one I bought for Nick’s acne,’ she elaborated prosaically. Flat-out panic felt like a heartbeat away. Had someone turned up the thermostat in the room? She couldn’t breathe properly.

‘Acne,’ Drew echoed flatly. His thumb had moved to the delicate hollow of one elbow; the circular motion sent a tingling down to her curling toes.

‘Teenage complaint from which you were no doubt immune.’ This person was invading her body space. She ought to be sending out some clear and unambiguous signals that read ‘Get off!’ loud and clear. Instead, what was she doing? Probably acting like every other female this man had ever touched—a compliant push-over.

‘It isn’t a subject that springs immediately to mind when I’m responding, albeit reluctantly, to a mutual chemical attraction.’

Not him too! Chemical…chemistry…they’d all gone stark staring bonkers. Her eyes narrowed. She hadn’t missed the ‘reluctant’ bit either. Aren’t I up to his usual standard? she wondered truculently.

‘I’d worry about the chemical reaction going on under your feet if I were you.’

He cursed with satisfying distress as he followed the direction of her gaze.

‘I told you, you should have got a professional cleaner,’ she reminded him cheerfully as she rubbed her toe against the newly bleached area underfoot. Things had got a bit silly, but she was in control again now, she decided with a relieved sigh.

He lifted his head and caught the tail-end of her surreptitious grin. ‘Maybe you won’t be laughing so much when I send you the bill?’

Eve hoped this was an empty threat, because her tight budget wasn’t up to surprises like that. ‘Does this mean you don’t love me after all?’ she pouted, giving a passable impression of a spurned lover. He was obviously one of those men who tried it on with any female that had a pulse, she thought with disgust.

Actually, she’d never been spurned; she’d done a bit of minor spurning herself—there had been that lovely Adam with the roof garden who’d wanted to get closer, and one or two others, but none had lit any answering spark in her.

Sparks! She glanced gloomily at her feet and had a sharp mental image of flames curling over the practical footwear she wore. ‘Sparks’ didn’t begin to cover the conflagration she’d been recklessly flirting with. It was all some nasty hormonal conspiracy; an example of the weakness of the flesh from which she’d learn a valuable lesson once she was safely home and away from this man. She might even be able to decide what the lesson was then.

‘It’s possible I might be able to give you up without aversion therapy.’

‘I’ll try to be stoical about it,’ she promised evenly. Didn’t aversion therapy involve repeated exposure to the thing you wanted to give up? Now there was a very unsettling thought!

‘I’ll always cherish our time together.’

Sarcastic pig! ‘How fortunate you are to possess a shallow and superficial nature,’ she said sunnily. She suddenly wished she was still wearing the feminine armoury of earlier. For some reason she felt it would have made it a lot easier to smile in the face of this masterly put-down if she’d known she looked feminine and…well…sexy. ‘For an awful moment I thought I might have to fight off your advances,’ she confessed.

His white even teeth clamped together in a snarl-like smile. ‘If those are the signals you send out when the options you’re considering are fight or flight you could have serious problems,’ he told her drily.

‘I hope you’re not suggesting I wanted you to kiss me!’ she yelled. The smug smile made her want to stamp her feet in childish frustration. ‘You’re delusional, and even more in love with yourself than I thought!’

Head on one side, he observed her pink cheeks and heaving bosom thoughtfully. ‘Are you trying to goad me into kissing you?’

Her mouth opened and closed soundlessly several times. ‘Are you…mad?’ she squeaked hoarsely.

‘I’m not going to kiss you into submission, you know,’ he informed her apologetically. ‘Don’t get me wrong—I can see the appeal. If only,’ he observed, half to himself, ‘to get you to shut up. You’re just not really my type.’

‘You’re pathetic,’ she grated incredulously. ‘Do you actually think that every female you meet fantasises about being swept up in your strong arms?’

‘This is what I was worried about,’ he said sadly. ‘You just want more than I can give. I wanted to save you this hurt and humiliation.’

Now she knew for sure he was winding her up, having a good laugh at her expense. He must have noticed she’d been shaking feverishly when he’d taken her hand. He obviously found the whole idea of her finding him attractive hilarious.

‘You’re very considerate.’ She’d had enough of being the live entertainment. It really went against the grain to retreat, but she could do it with dignity at least. ‘I’m going home now. I hope for Daniel’s sake his parents aren’t going to be away much longer.’

He smiled wryly. He’d instinctively known she was the sort of female who had to have the last word. Drew listened for the inevitable crash of the front door before he sat down in one of the luxuriously upholstered chairs. He couldn’t help wondering what it would have been like if he’d actually kissed that strident, volatile young woman.

The entrance of his nephew halted the erotic nature of his thoughts.

‘Have a seat, Dan. I think we need to talk.’

‘Again?’

‘Again. Now, just what exactly have you told Nick and his peculiar relations about me?’

‘Not much.’

‘And does that ‘‘not much’’ include the Lottie saga?’