Morelli's Mistress

‘I don’t think so,’ she said now, twisting her hands together in her lap. ‘I—well, I don’t know you.’

‘That can be arranged.’

‘Can it?’ God forgive her, she was actually considering it.

‘So you do want to see me again?’

Abby hesitated once more. And this time, before she could even think of denying it, Luke looped a hand behind her head and brought her mouth to his.

‘Let me persuade you,’ he said huskily, and his tongue slipped silkily into her mouth.

Abby thought it was just as well she was sitting down at that moment. The hungry urgency of his kiss was robbing her of her sanity. Heat surrounded her, enveloping her in its sensual embrace. She found herself clutching the lapels of his leather jacket and arching towards him.

His mouth hardened, the kiss lengthening into a drugging seduction that showed no sign of ending. It was just as well the console was between them or she was fairly sure Luke would have hauled her onto his lap, and continued his sensual exploration below her waist.

As it was, he was cupping her breasts through the fine fabric of her velvet suit and she could feel her nipples peaking against his hands.

‘Annabel, come with me,’ he said roughly, lifting the hem of her top to find the warm flesh of her midriff. And Abby was sorely tempted to give in.

And then another car accelerated into the lot and Abby’s blood ran cold. She’d recognised that car over Luke’s shoulder, and it was as she had anticipated upstairs: Harry had come home earlier than he’d said.

Dragging her mouth away from Luke’s, she reached again for the handle of the door. ‘I—I can’t. I’ve got to go. H-Harriet’s waiting for me.’

‘Wait!’ Before she could get the door open, Luke had grabbed her arm. ‘At least agree to go out with me tomorrow evening,’ he said. ‘What’s your name? I don’t even know your surname. Let me give you a ring. What’s your number?’

‘No.’ Abby wasn’t that crazy. ‘I—I’ll ring you.’

‘When?’

Abby could see Harry parking his car now and panic made her reckless. ‘Tomorrow,’ she said. ‘I’ll ring you tomorrow.’

‘You promise?’

‘I promise,’ she said, aware that she was feeling breathless. ‘Please, I have to go now.’

‘Okay. But take my card.’

He handed it to her as he released her, and she stuffed it into her pocket before scrambling out of the car and running quickly across the car park to the apartment building.

Hopefully, Luke would put her haste down to the rain, Abby thought as she ducked into the lift, grateful that the doorman was still ensconced in front of his TV. And with a bit of luck, Harry wouldn’t even notice that she’d left the apartment.

* * *

Luke’s phone rang late in the evening. He’d been reading some official documents prior to a meeting the following day and the unexpected sound brought a scowl to his face.

He was inclined not to answer it. The girl he’d been seeing in recent weeks wouldn’t take no for an answer, and he couldn’t think of anyone else who might ring him after eleven o’clock.

The screen indicated that it was an unknown caller, and it could be his father. He hadn’t seen Oliver Morelli for weeks. Still, unless there was some emergency, even he was unlikely to ring at this time.

Cursing himself for being a fool, Luke picked the phone up from his desk and accepted the call.

‘Luke?’

Luke blew out a startled breath. If he wasn’t mistaken, it was Annabel, the girl who’d said she would ring him three weeks ago and who hadn’t kept her promise.

Until now.

‘Annabel?’ he said warily, wondering if he was so pleased to hear from her that he was mistaking someone else’s voice for hers. ‘It is Annabel, isn’t it?’

She gave a nervous laugh. ‘You’ve forgotten me so soon?’

‘No.’ Luke ran his tongue over his dry lips. ‘I was beginning to think you’d forgotten me.’

‘Not likely,’ she said, but there was a distinctly nervous tremor in her voice. ‘How are you?’

‘I’m fine.’ Luke hesitated. ‘But it’s a little late to be making a social call, isn’t it?’

‘I’m sorry.’

He was afraid she was going to ring off, and he continued hurriedly, ‘But I am glad to hear from you.’ He paused. ‘Does this mean you’ll agree to a date?’

‘Sort of.’ He heard her blow out a breath. ‘What are you doing right now?’

‘Right now?’ Luke was taken aback. ‘I’m working. How about you?’

‘Oh...’ She hesitated. ‘I’ve not been doing much.’ Another pause. ‘I wondered if you’d like to go for a drink.’

Luke almost gasped. ‘Now?’

‘If you’d like to.’

But it’s so late, was on the tip of Luke’s tongue, and he had to bite it back. ‘Um—I guess so,’ he said instead, wondering what the hell he was letting himself in for. ‘Do you want me to pick you up?’

‘No.’ Her response was immediate. ‘I’ll meet you.’

‘Where?’

‘I—how about the Parker House? We both know where that is.’

‘O-kay.’ Luke dragged the word out. ‘If you’re sure you don’t want a lift.’

‘I’m sure,’ she said. ‘In about half an hour, yes?’

Luke shook his head perplexedly. ‘I’ll be there.’

Deciding the black sweater and matching jeans he was wearing would do for the Parker House, Luke grabbed his leather jacket and stowed his wallet and his phone in his pockets.

Outside, it was cold, but at least it was fine, a three-quarters moon adding its silvery light to the dark streets. Luke lived in north London and at this time of night he had little difficulty driving into the West End.