The Mistress's Child

Like an onlooker in a play, Lisi stared with disbelief as she saw that he was moving around to her side of the desk, with a look on his face which told its own story.

‘Philip?’ she questioned hoarsely as he bent towards her.

‘Answer me one thing and one thing only,’ he demanded.

His voice was one of such stark command that Lisi heard herself framing the word, ‘What?’

‘Is there a man in your life?’ he murmured. ‘A husband or a fiancé or some long-time lover?’

This truth was easy to tell, but then perhaps that was because she was compelled to by the irresistible gleam of his eyes. She shook her head. ‘No. No one.’

He looked down at her for one brief, hard moment and knew a moment of sheer, wild exultancy before he pulled her into his arms with a shudder as he felt the soft warmth of a woman in his arms again.

The blood roared in her ears. She wanted to push him away and yet she was powerless to move, so tantalising was his touch. Suddenly she knew just how a butterfly must feel shortly before it was impaled against a piece of card. Except that a butterfly would receive nothing but pain—while Philip could give her untold pleasure.

‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’ she breathed as she felt the delicious pressure of his fingers against her skin through the shirt she wore.

‘You know what I’m doing.’ Doing what he had been wanting to do ever since he had walked back in here again today. Doing what had haunted him for far too long now.

‘You need kissing, Lisi,’ he ground out and pulled her even closer. ‘You know you do. You want me to. You always did. Didn’t you?’

His arrogance took away what little of her breath was left, because just the sensation of feeling herself in the warm circle of his arms again was enough to make her feel as weak as a kitten.

‘Get out of here! We’re standing in the middle of my bloody office—’ she spluttered, but her protest was cut short by the ringing of the doorbell and Marian Reece, her boss and the owner of Homefinders, walked in, her smile of welcome instantly replaced by one of slightly irritated bemusement as she took in the scene in front of her.

‘Hello, Lisi,’ she said steadily, looking from one to the other. ‘I’m sorry—am I interrupting something?’

Hearing the unmistakable reproof in her boss’s voice, Lisi sprang out of Philip’s arms as if she had been scalded, thinking how close he had been to kissing her. Would she have let him? Surely not. But if she had…?

Her heart was crashing against her ribcage, but she struggled to retain her breath and to appear the kind of unflappable employee she usually was. ‘H-hello, Marian. This is Philip Caprice. We were, um, we were just—’

‘Just renewing our acquaintance,’ interjected Philip smoothly and held his hand out to Marian, while smiling the kind of smile which few women would have the strength to resist.

And Marian Reece was not among them.

Lisi had known the forty-five-year-old since she had bought out the estate agency two years ago. She liked Marian, even though the older woman led a life which was streets apart from her own.

But then Marian was a successful businesswoman while Lisi was a struggling single mother.

‘Lisi and I are old…friends,’ said Philip deliberately. ‘We go way back.’

‘Indeed?’ said Marian rather tightly. ‘Well, call me a little old-fashioned—but mightn’t this kind of fond greeting be better reserved for out of office hours?’

Fond? Inside, Lisi almost choked on the word. ‘Yes, of course. And Philip was just leaving, weren’t you, Philip?’

‘Unfortunately, yes—I have some business to see to.’ He glittered her a look which renewed the racing in her heart. ‘But I’ll be back tomorrow.’

Lisi thought it sounded more like a threat than a promise. ‘Back?’ she questioned weakly. ‘Tomorrow?’

‘Of course. You haven’t forgotten that you’re going to sell me a house, have you, Lisi?’

Lisi blinked at him in confusion. Had she had missed something along the way? ‘A house?’ He had mentioned nothing about a house!

‘That’s why I’m here,’ he said gently. ‘I’m looking for a weekend cottage—or something on those lines.’

Was she being offered a lifeline? In the old days he had done deals for rich contemporaries of his from university—they had valued his taste and his discretion.

‘You mean you’re buying for someone else?’ Lisi stared up at him hopefully.

Her obvious resistance only increased his desire for her—although maybe she knew that. Maybe that was precisely why she was batting those aquamarine eyes at him like that and unconsciously thrusting the narrow curves of her hips forward. ‘Sorry to disappoint you, sweetheart—but I’m looking for a country home for myself.’

Lisi’s world threatened to explode in a cloud of black dust. ‘Around here?’ she questioned hoarsely.

‘Sure. Why not? I know the area. It’s very beautiful—and just about commutable from London.’ His eyes mocked her. ‘Sounds just about perfect to me.’

‘Does it?’ asked Lisi dully.

‘Yes, of course we’ll be delighted to find something for you, Mr Caprice,’ said Marian crisply. ‘I can look for you myself, if you prefer.’

He shook his head. ‘Oh, no,’ he contradicted softly. ‘I’m quite happy to deal with Lisi.’

Well, I’m not happy to deal with you, she thought hysterically, but by then it was too late. He was charm personified to Marian as he said goodbye, and then he took Lisi’s hand in his and held it for just a little longer than was necessary while he held her gaze.

‘Goodbye, Lisi. Until tomorrow.’

‘Goodbye, Philip.’ She swallowed, while inside her heart raced with fear and foreboding.

She stood in silence with Marian as they watched him leave and Lisi’s hands were shaking uncontrollably as the door clanged shut behind him.

Marian turned to look at her and her eyes were unexpectedly soft with sympathy. ‘So when are you going to tell him, Lisi?’ she asked softly.

Time froze. Lisi froze. ‘Tell him what?’

‘The truth, of course.’ She placed a perfectly manicured hand on Lisi’s shaking arm. ‘He’s the father of your child, isn’t he?’

CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_67cc2e98-46dc-5855-9de5-2dfe66db03e4)

LISI stared at Marian. ‘You can’t know that!’ she babbled, and now her knees really were threatening to give way. ‘Tim looks nothing like him!’

‘Sit down, dear, before you fall down.’ Marian gently pushed her back down onto her chair and went and poured a glass of water from the cooler, then handed it to her. ‘Now drink this—you’ve gone even paler than usual.’

Lisi sucked the chilled liquid into her parched mouth and then shakily manoeuvred it to a corner of her desk before raising her eyes beseechingly to her boss. ‘He doesn’t look anything like Philip,’ she repeated stubbornly.

‘Lisi,’ said Marian patiently. ‘Tim is your living image—but that doesn’t mean that he hasn’t inherited any of his father’s characteristics. Sometimes a mother can blind herself to what she doesn’t want to see. Sometimes it’s easier for an outsider to see the true picture. I knew immediately that Philip was Tim’s father.’

‘But how?’ Lisi demanded brokenly.

Marian sighed. ‘Well, Tim is an unusually tall boy for his age—we’ve always said that. He has his father’s strength and stature—and there’s a certain look of him in the shape of his face, too.’