Stand-In Mistress

‘That’s right.’ Joanne made no secret of her triumph. ‘Now, if you’ll ask your chauffeur to stop and let me get out…’

When he made no move she threatened shakily, ‘If you don’t I’ll start screaming.’

Calmly, he said, ‘Even if I allowed you to scream, I doubt very much if anyone would hear…’

Recalling both his strength and his total lack of scruples, she shuddered.

‘And I can’t help but feel you owe me…’

When she said nothing he pointed out, ‘You seem quite certain that your sister would have been sharing my bed tonight.’

‘Well, I’m not Milly,’ she cried desperately.

‘But earlier you agreed that you’d come in her place. You even boasted that you were experienced.’

Watching all the colour drain from her face, he observed mockingly, ‘Now you’re acting more like a frightened schoolgirl than a woman with lots of experience.’

He ran his hand up her thigh and, his voice smooth as satin, queried, ‘You did say “lots”?’

She pushed his hand away, and seeing the gleam in his eye, realised he was enjoying baiting her, getting a little of his own back.

Suddenly afraid of how far he’d go, she begged, ‘Please don’t.’

‘That’s better,’ he applauded.

‘Will you let me get out?’ Despite all her efforts her voice shook betrayingly as she added, ‘Please.’

His dark, well-shaped head tilted a little to one side, he pretended to consider. Then he said ironically, ‘As you’re asking so prettily, and I don’t want to add kidnapping to my list of crimes, I’ll be happy to take you home. Where do you live, exactly?’

She gave him her address.

He pressed a button, and, speaking into a small grille, ordered, ‘Gregory, I’d like you to go straight to Fulham and drop Miss Winslow at twenty three Carlisle Street.’

‘Thank you,’ she said through gritted teeth.

Settling himself back into his seat, Brad turned to her and asked seriously, ‘Suppose I told you that you’re totally mistaken about my relationship with your sister? That as far as I’m concerned she’s simply a nice girl and an efficient secretary?’

So now he was trying to excuse himself, make himself out to be whiter than white.

As she remembered the way he had slid his hand up her thigh Joanne’s blood boiled.

‘Knowing what kind of man you are, I wouldn’t believe a word of it,’ she said contemptuously, and moved as far away from him as the seat would allow.

For a while they sat in a silence that, keyed-up as she was, soon became nerve-racking. Bracing herself, she stole a sideways look at his clear-cut profile.

It was cold and set, and she realised that he was quietly, but furiously, angry.

But then he was not only a man whose lies had been summarily rejected, but also a hunter deprived of his prey.

Serve him right, she thought with immense satisfaction. Let him go to bed frustrated for once.

He turned his head and glanced at her. As he caught sight of her gleeful expression, his own face hardened even more.

At that precise moment the limousine slowed down, drew into the kerb, and stopped.

The instant the chauffeur opened the door, Joanne scrambled out without a backward glance, only to find Brad close on her heels as she crossed the broad pavement.

Accompanying her up the steps, he waited impassively in the lamp-lit porch while she found her key, then, taking it from her nerveless fingers, he opened the door.

‘Thank you.’ Her voice was cold, and, dropping the key back into her bag, she turned away.

‘Before you go,’ Brad said silkily, ‘in view of the expectations you raised, I think at the very least I’m entitled to a goodnight kiss.’

Stepping over the threshold, he pinned her back against the door panels.

‘Get your hands off me, you—’

Ignoring her protest, he covered her mouth with his and kissed her deeply.

His kiss was insolent, punitive, and by the time he finally lifted his head she was dazed and breathless.

Looking down into eyes that brimmed with tears of rage, he said, ‘As you’re convinced I’m a lecherous, unfeeling brute, I thought you’d be disappointed if I didn’t act like one.’

As he moved back she lifted her hand and slapped his face as hard as she could. Then, catching her breath in a kind of sob, she fled into the house, banging the door behind her.

Trembling in every limb, she sank down limply onto the hall chair, and, taking a tissue from her bag, scrubbed repeatedly at her lips, as if trying to remove every last trace of his kiss.

Damn Brad Lancing to hell! she thought furiously as she listened to the car door slam and the limousine drive away. He had to be the most obnoxious man she had ever met, and if she never saw him again it would be too soon. He was immoral and arrogant and quite unscrupulous…

Seething futilely, she sat mentally flaying him, until the worst of her agitation had subsided and she had returned to a state of relative calm.

Everywhere was quiet and, apart from the hallway, the house seemed to be in darkness. Presuming that Steve and Lisa had gone to bed, she bolted the door and made her way upstairs.

As she reached the landing Steve’s bedroom door opened. ‘I know this sounds dead nosy,’ he admitted with an unrepentant grin, ‘but we happened to see you getting out of a posh limousine…’

Oh, hell! Joanne thought helplessly. In the circumstances, the last thing she wanted was to have to explain where she had been, and why.

It wouldn’t be fair to tell anyone else about Milly’s involvement, especially now everything was, hopefully, going to be all right.

‘I can’t imagine it belonged to Trevor?’ Steve pursued.

‘No,’ she said after a moment.

As Lisa appeared at his elbow he added, ‘The man who got out with you…while not in the least like Trevor, looked strangely familiar…’

‘Did he?’ she stonewalled.

‘Though I’ve only seen him once—Milly pointed him out one day when I picked her up from work—he’s not a man one would easily forget…’