One Man's Mistress: One Night with His Virgin Mistress / Public Mistress, Private Affair / Mistress Against Her Will

‘No?’ he asked. ‘When you admitted you began to wonder.’ He shook his head. ‘Veronica is not a woman to allow her marriage vows to stand in her way.’

‘She’s vile.’

‘She’s also sad.’ He paused. ‘But thank you for saving me from a potentially awkward situation. I owe you big time, and I won’t forget it.’

‘I wish I could say it was a pleasure.’ She got to her feet. ‘And now I have some awkward situations of my own to deal with, so I’d better get back to work.’

‘You won’t allow me to express my gratitude by taking you for an expensive lunch? It seems a pity to waste the new gear.’ His voice followed her to the door.

She didn’t look back at him. ‘No, thanks.’ She sounded faintly brittle. ‘Veronica seems to have killed my appetite stone dead.’

Back in her room, she found she was leaning back against the panels of the door, panting as if she’d been running, angry with herself and bewildered at the same time. After all, she was undeniably hungry, so where would have been the harm?

She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror—a girl she hardly recognised in the smart, unfamiliar clothes, her eyes unnaturally bright and her cheeks flushed.

And knew exactly why she wouldn’t take the risk.

She wrote steadily for the rest of the day, her unaccustomed finery restored to its carrier bags and stowed at the back of the wardrobe. Out of sight, out of mind, she told herself.

And when eventually she ventured out to heat a tin of soup and make a sandwich, the flat was deserted.

She’d just cleared away her makeshift meal when the buzzer sounded. What now? she wondered, groaning silently as she obeyed its summons. Don’t tell me Veronica’s come back to say all the hotels are full.

But when she opened the door, she found Justin smiling at her.

‘Hi,’ he said, too casually. ‘Is Mark around?’

‘No,’ she said, her own lips twitching reluctantly. ‘But I suspect you knew that already.’

‘So, are you going to let me in? I promise I’m safe and house-trained.’

‘Also difficult to keep away.’ Tallie stood aside to admit him and led the way to the sitting room. ‘The choice is tea or coffee. The alcohol belongs to Mark.’

Justin opened the briefcase he was carrying and produced a bottle. ‘Cloudy Bay,’ he said. ‘Taste it and fall in love. But only with the wine, naturally.’

‘Naturally,’ Tallie agreed dryly, and went to fetch the corkscrew.

Although unexpected, it was a relaxed and convivial interlude, taking away the sour taste of Veronica Melrose’s visit. They talked about books, comparing favourite authors, found they had broadly similar tastes in music, but differed widely on films. And the wine was wonderful.

By the time he left an hour later, she found she’d agreed to accompany him to the theatre the following week, and when he paused at the front door, cupping her chin gently in his hand and bending towards her, she allowed his kiss, which was brief, undemanding, yet undeniably pleasant.

Alone, Tallie smiled as she re-corked what was left of the wine, preparatory to putting it in the fridge, and began to wash the glasses.

There was no denying that Justin was an extremely attractive man. And, with his fair hair and blue eyes, exactly her type, as well as being practically a template for William in her book.

I based him originally on Gareth, she thought. And when Gareth turned out to be not the person I’d hoped, I think I may have stopped believing in William too, and that’s why I’m having all these problems in bringing him to life. But maybe it will be easier to put him centre stage from now on.

As for Hugo Cantrell, who was becoming almost too real, and who might have to be killed off in some unpleasant way …

‘You look very fierce,’ Mark commented from the doorway. ‘Is something wrong?’

She almost dropped the glass she was drying. ‘I—I didn’t hear you come in.’

‘Evidently. You were lost in thought.’ He looked at the wine bottle on the counter top. ‘Been entertaining?’

‘Yes, as it happens.’ Her tone was defensive.

‘May I guess the identity of your visitor?’ The note of amusement in his voice was not lost on her.

She stared at him. ‘Did you tell him to come?’

‘As if.’ He leaned a shoulder against the door frame. ‘So where’s he taking you?’

‘To the new Leigh Hanford play,’ she admitted unwillingly.

‘It’s had good reviews,’ he said casually. ‘He’s lucky to get tickets.’

She frowned. ‘Did you have anything to do with that?’

‘Why, Miss Paget,’ he drawled, ‘what a suspicious mind you have. I suppose it comes from working out plots.’

‘Probably,’ she said. ‘And now I must go and work out some more of them. Goodnight, Mr Benedict.’

‘Goodnight to you, Miss Paget.’ He added softly, ‘I hope your dreams are sweet.’

Tallie hoped so too as she headed towards her room, but they would have to be delayed. First she would have to find some way of dealing with Hugo Cantrell. After all, the wretched man seemed to be taking over the book, and that was the last thing she wanted. So he would have to go. Painfully and permanently.

At the same time it occurred to her that, although she might be able to remove him from the manuscript, it would not be so easy to erase his dark-haired, green-eyed image from her mind.

Not when she was living with the real thing.

A disturbing reflection that pursued her for the remainder of the night, so that the dreams that eventually punctuated her sleep were restless and uneasy.

CHAPTER EIGHT

‘SO,’ LORNA said eagerly, ‘tell me what he’s like.’

‘Arrogant,’ Tallie said coldly. ‘Serial womaniser. Fortunately, I don’t have to see much of him.’

Lorna gaped at her. ‘Then why are you taking all this trouble, if he’s so frightful?’

‘Oh—’ Tallie flushed ‘—you’re talking about Justin.’

And I should be too, she told herself. Talking about him, thinking about, dreaming about him. And not sparing Mark Benedict a second thought.

Especially when he’s barely addressed two consecutive sentences to me since his stepmother’s visit three weeks ago. He said he owed me, she thought. Yet now he seems to have cut me off completely. Iced me quite deliberately.

‘Damn right I’m talking about Justin,’ said Lorna.