Mistress on his Terms. Catherine Spencer

gone longer than you led me to expect and I was just looking for something to read.”

      He favored her with a scathing glance. “In that case, I suppose I should count myself lucky that you stopped with my passport. There must be at least a dozen legal files back there, which would have provided you with much juicier entertainment and after you’d read your fill, you could have blackmailed me for breaching lawyer-client confidentiality.”

      “I didn’t know you’re a lawyer.”

      “And I didn’t know you’re a meddlesome busybody, so that makes us even.”

      She shifted in her seat, the better to observe him. He really was quite outstandingly good-looking. “Why are you so determined to dislike me, Sebastian?”

      “I have no feelings toward you, one way or the other, Ms. Talbot. I already told you, you’re an inconvenience, but I’ll get over that as soon as I’ve deposited you on Hugo’s doorstep.” He punctuated his statement with a telling pause before continuing, “Provided you don’t hurt him or anyone else I care about.”

      “It’s obvious you think I’ll do exactly that.”

      He swung his head and pinioned her in his cold blue stare, and she almost cringed at the expression she saw in their depths. “Let’s just say that, in my experience, the apple seldom falls far from the tree.”

      She stared at him, more perplexed by the second. “Meaning?”

      “Meaning if you’re anything like your mother—!”

      But then, as if he’d given away more than he intended, he clamped his mouth shut and returned his attention to the road.

      Lily, though, wasn’t so inclined to let the subject drop. “What do you know about my mother?”

      “More than I care to.”

      “Because of things Hugo’s told you?”

      “Hugo had no contact with her for more than twenty-six years.”

      “Exactly! Which make his opinions less than reliable.”

      “Then for once we’re in agreement.” He flicked on the right turn indicator and slowed the car as they approached the neon-lit entrance to a restaurant set back about fifty yards from the road. “On which fortuitous note, I propose we stop for something to eat. Stentonbridge is still a good two hours’ drive away.”

      Part of her wanted to tell him she was more interested in having him explain his cryptic remarks than she was in food. But another, more cautious part urged her not to pursue the topic. That he knew more than he was telling was plain enough, but although she’d come here looking for answers, she didn’t want them from him. Whether or not he’d admit it, there was too much anger seething beneath his surface, and she didn’t relish the idea of it bursting loose on some dark country road miles from anywhere.

      She’d waited this long to find out the truth. She could wait a few hours longer.

      She wasn’t what he’d anticipated. Watching her covertly as she studied the menu, he had trouble reconciling the woman sitting opposite him in the booth with his expectations of a vulgar, money-grubbing fortune hunter. He’d been prepared for flashy good looks, provocative necklines, big hair, fake fingernails and too much cheap jewelry. They fit the image. Lily Talbot did not.

      Oh, he supposed she was pretty enough, in an ordinary sort of way. More than pretty, some might say. But the cheapness wasn’t there, no matter how hard he searched for it. She had narrow, elegant feet. Her hands were delicate, the nails well-cared for and buffed to a soft shine. Her features were small and regular. Patrician, almost. Her dark brown hair lay smooth and shining against her cheek. She looked out at the world from wide, candid eyes and she smiled a lot. Her mouth was permanently upturned at the corners, her lips soft and full.

      Apart from a watch, her only other jewelry was a pair of small gold earrings. She wore a blue denim skirt, which came to just below her knees, a short-sleeved white blouse buttoned to a vee at the front and sandals. Her legs were bare and, he hadn’t been able to help noticing, extremely long and shapely. Her skin was lightly tanned and she’d painted her toenails pink. They reminded him of dainty little shells.

      Ticked off, he glowered at her, knowing Hugo would love her, that he’d accept her immediately and not once question her motives for suddenly wanting to make contact with him. But the fact remained that her mother’s betrayal, over a quarter of a century before, had nearly killed him, and it was Sebastian’s self-appointed job to make sure the daughter didn’t finish the job now.

      Unaware of his scrutiny, she tapped her fingernail against her front teeth and continued to peruse the menu. She had lovely teeth, a lovely smile. “For Pete’s sake, I invited you here to eat, not spend the night,” he practically barked. “Make up your mind what you want to order.”

      “I like looking at menus,” she said, rewarding him with a look of pained reproach from her big brown eyes.

      “Then you must be a very slow reader. I could have memorized the entire thing in half the time you’re taking to get through it.”

      “Well, I’m not like you.”

      Hell, no! She was pure woman, and the fact that he couldn’t stop taking inventory of her assets was beginning to irk him more than a little! “In case it’s slipped your mind, Hugo’s been waiting a long time to meet you. If it’s all the same to you, I’d as soon not prolong his agony.”

      She slapped the menu closed and leaned back in the booth. “I’ll have a large order of fries and a vanilla milk shake.”

      “You took all this time to decide on a milkshake and fries?” he asked incredulously.

      “With ketchup.”

      “If that’s all you want, we could have stopped at a fast-food drive-in and saved ourselves some time.”

      She collected her bag and the sweater she’d heaped on the bench. “Okay. Let’s go find one.”

      “Stay where you are!”

      He must have raised his voice more than he realized because the next thing he knew, the waitress had come barging over to their booth to inquire, “Your boyfriend giving you trouble, honey?”

      Lily Talbot exploded into warm, infectious laughter, as if the woman had said something hilariously amusing. “Heavens, he’s not my boyfriend!”

      “And I’m not giving her trouble.”

      The waitress eyed him darkly. “You’d better not be.” She fished out her notepad and waited with pen poised. “So what’ll you have?”

      He relayed Lily’s request and ordered a steak sandwich and coffee for himself. “I thought women like you existed on salad and tofu,” he said, while they waited for their food.

      “Women like me?” She regarded him pertly. “And what kind of woman is that, Sebastian?”

      “Under thirty and in thrall to the latest trend, no matter how outlandish it might be.”

      “You don’t know much about women, do you?”

      Enough to know you’re bad for my concentration, he could have told her.

      She leaned forward and he couldn’t help noticing the graceful curve of her breasts beneath her blouse. He even found himself wondering if she was wearing a bra. Damn her!

      “Real women aren’t slaves to fashion, Sebastian,” she informed him, her tone suggesting she found him singularly lacking in intelligence. “We make up our own rules.”

      “What happens if your rules don’t coincide with men’s?”

      “Then we compromise, the way we have since the beginning of time.”

      “Sounds to me like a convenient excuse to do whatever you want, whenever you want, and not be held accountable for