Stand-In Mistress

Over six feet tall and broad-shouldered, his face lean and tanned and, apart from a certain toughness, almost ascetic, he was so unlike the florid, thickset man she had visualised that for a moment she wondered confusedly if the waiter had made a mistake.

But, stopping by the table, he murmured discreetly, ‘Your guest, Mr Lancing.’

Somehow Brad Lancing’s appearance threw her, and instead of the words she had been rehearsing, wits completely scattered, she found herself stammering, ‘M-Mr Lancing…I’m Miss Winslow…but, as you see, the wrong one.’

He raised dark, well-marked brows. ‘Not the one I was expecting, admittedly, but equally charming.’

Hating him on sight, she explained a shade breathlessly, ‘I’m Milly’s sister.’

‘You’re nothing at all like her,’ he observed dispassionately.

‘No.’

‘Won’t you sit down?’

‘Thank you.’

He remained on his feet until the maître d’ had pulled out her chair and settled her, before resuming his own seat.

At least the brute had manners, she conceded.

‘I’m afraid I’m the bringer of bad tidings,’ she said as soon as they were alone.

His eyes were every bit as fascinating as Milly had said. A clear dark green, and put in with a sooty finger, they made her breath quicken as they rested on her face. ‘Nothing too dreadful, I hope?’

‘Milly can’t come,’ she informed him in a rush.

‘I see.’ Then like a rattlesnake striking, ‘You’re the Miss Winslow I spoke to on the phone.’

Shaken by his perspicacity, she found herself admitting, ‘W-well, yes.’

‘In that case you’re not the wrong one at all.’ He smiled a little, drawing her attention to his mouth.

Firm and controlled, yet passionate, it had a combination of warm sensuality and cool austereness that might have made almost any woman drool, and Joanne realised all too clearly why Milly fancied herself in love with him.

She was dragging her gaze away with an effort, when he said softly, ‘Tell me, Miss Winslow, why did you pretend to be your sister?’

‘I—I didn’t…’

Ignoring her instinctive denial, he insisted, ‘Of course you did. You even imitated her voice.’

Weakly, Joanne said, ‘It was just a joke…She wasn’t there, and I…’

‘You were simply answering for her?’

‘Yes.’

‘Do you always answer for your sister?’

‘No, of course not…But I knew she’d want to come…’

‘So why isn’t she here?’

‘Well, just before she was due to start, she had an emergency call from an elderly aunt,’ Joanne improvised wildly. ‘Poor Aunt Alice had just had a bad fall and was refusing to go into hospital. Milly is very fond of her…’

Just for an instant Joanne thought she saw a gleam of unholy amusement in those clear green eyes, but his face showed no trace of a smile as he said, ‘I know how these family relationships can be.’

‘She wasn’t sure how long it would take to get Auntie settled,’ Joanne ploughed on, ‘and she thought she might possibly have to stay the night.’

‘So you came in her place?’

‘Well, yes…I thought I’d better come and explain in person.’

‘Much nicer and more friendly than simply phoning,’ he agreed drily.

It was quite obvious what he was thinking, and suddenly she knew exactly how to play it.

Desperate situations called for desperate measures. If she could flatter his ego, pander to his vanity, make him believe she fancied him, he might ask her to have dinner with him.

If he did she should be able to string him along until Milly was safely out of his clutches. Then she would have the pleasure of telling him exactly what she thought of him.

Trying for a spot of girlish confusion, she admitted, ‘I must confess, I’ve been hoping to meet you.’

‘Really?’ he murmured, a glint in his eye.

‘I’ve heard such a lot about you from Milly.’

A look she couldn’t decipher crossed his face, before he asked ironically, ‘Can any secretary be relied on to say good things about her boss?’

‘Surely that depends on the boss?’ Joanne’s answer was a little sharp, and, reminding herself of the role she had decided to play, she gave him a coy glance from beneath long, silky lashes, and added, ‘If he happens to be a man like you…’

As though genuinely curious, he asked, ‘So what exactly did…Milly…say about me?’

‘She said you were clever, charismatic, and totally charming.’

Just for an instant he looked disconcerted. Then he observed lightly, ‘I might find that description difficult to live up to. However,’ he went on with a touch of self-mockery, ‘rather than let the “world of bosses” down, I’ll try…’

At that moment one of the waiters came up and handed them both a leather-covered menu.

‘Oh…’ Joanne made to rise. ‘I really ought to go and let you have your meal in peace.’

He asked, as she’d been hoping he would, ‘Won’t you stay and dine with me?’

‘Well, I…’

‘Unless your fiancé would object?’

He had sharp eyes, she thought as she answered, ‘No, I’m sure he wouldn’t.’