The Abby Green Modern Collection. ABBY GREEN

been hers, which he seriously doubted, had been a liability…and, as for the jewels…he wanted to adorn her luminous skin in fiery rubies and flashing emeralds. It was purely for his pleasure alone. Their collective worth was chicken-feed to him. He took her hand and led her back inside. Maggie shut out the image of the sparkly new car that she would have traded any day of the week to have her own again.

      

      She took the car for a drive the next day, on a visit to her mother. When they came out of the house a few hours later, her mother sounded suspicious.

      ‘He’s a very generous employer, giving you a car just like that…’

      Maggie tried to avoid the scrutiny of her mother’s gaze. ‘Yes, well, the other thing was a rattle trap and you were the one always telling me to get rid of it.’

      ‘I know, but I also know how much you loved it.’

      ‘Yes, well…’ Maggie said airily. ‘As Caleb’s assistant now, I have to look a certain way, maintain a certain…image.’

      Her mother had that all too familiar worried frown again. ‘Maggie…are you sure everything is all right? I remember that you and Caleb had that—’

      Maggie cut her off rapidly. ‘Mum, that was dinner—once. I’m not in his league—don’t worry.’

      She leant in to kiss her. She longed to give in and lean on her mother…but years of being the support had ingrained her sense of responsibility too deep.

      ‘And what about your painting?’

      Maggie pulled back. ‘That’ll just have to wait for a few weeks.’

      She didn’t look convinced but let Maggie sit in the small car before saying innocently, ‘I’ve invited Caleb for lunch next week, to say thank you for being so kind—I’m still so embarrassed that Tom tried his best to ruin him.’

      Maggie looked up wildly. Caleb here? At the house? With her mother gushing about how wonderful he was?

      ‘He’s far too busy. He can’t possibly make time—’ She went cold. ‘Hang on a second, did you say invited?’

      ‘Yes, dear. I asked Michael Murphy to call him and extend the invitation; he said yes immediately. You’ll come too, of course.’

      

      Her words were still reverberating in Maggie’s head as she arrived back at the apartment. Disaster. Her mother was likely to give everything away with just a few words. Yet she knew if she tried to dissuade Caleb from going, he’d suspect something immediately and be even more determined to go. No doubt he was wondering what on earth Tom’s widow wanted with him. Maggie would have to watch her mother like a hawk and just make sure she said nothing incriminating. Her head was throbbing.

      The phone was ringing as she got in, but stopped before she could reach it. She knew it was Caleb, could feel his impatience as, sure enough, her mobile started to shrill.

      ‘Where were you?’

      ‘Out…I went for a drive; is that okay?’

      He grunted.

      She had to check, to confirm for herself. ‘I believe my mother has asked you for lunch…?’

      Please say no, laugh, say you won’t be able to go…

      ‘Yes and I’m looking forward to it…I’m even intrigued, you could say. I was calling to say I’ll be back at eight.’

      Maggie felt sick as the phone went dead.

      

      That night and for the next few days they seemed to settle into an uneasy truce. Uneasy because Maggie had to guard her tongue all the time. Especially when Caleb was relaxed and charming. Which, she hated to admit, was more often than not. Unless something from the past reared its ugly head. Then he shut down. By day she stocked up on some art supplies, explored the outdoor terrace of the apartment, even tried to do a little painting, and by night…by night, she and Caleb entered another realm, where no words were spoken, no words were blessedly needed as he took her to height after height of pleasure.

      As the day of the lunch approached, Maggie was hoping against hope that Caleb had forgotten about it, but her wishes were dashed when he emerged from the shower on the Sunday morning.

      ‘What time is lunch?’

      He’d remembered.

      Maggie sat up in the bed, pulling the sheet up, still absurdly shy in front of Caleb, even though just minutes before he’d wrought a response from her that still had her pulse beating fast. She willed down the tell-tale heat with monumental effort.

      ‘One o’clock.’

      As if she didn’t already know that his mind was as sharp as a sword. She fled into the bathroom so she wouldn’t have to watch him dress and, when she emerged, she could hear him whistling merrily in the kitchen. As if he didn’t have a care in the world. She envied him his cool ability to ride roughshod over people’s lives and ignored the traitorous tingle in her body and the voice that whispered to her how much she enjoyed certain aspects of being with him.

      On the way out of the city she asked him to stop by a newsagents so she could get some papers. He looked at her with a strange expression.

      ‘What?’

      ‘Nothing…’ He lifted his brows innocently.

      ‘I can read, you know. And I do like to keep up with current affairs. I’m sorry if your usual…’ The word stuck in her craw.

      ‘Girlfriends?’ he supplied with a quirk on his lips.

      ‘Mistresses…are more intellectually challenged.’

      He lifted a hand and ticked off on his fingers. ‘Actually, the last one was a human rights lawyer; the one before that was a hedge fund manager; the one before that—’

      ‘Okay, okay, I get the point. So I’m your dumbest mistress—’

      He’d parked the car and leant over suddenly, thinking of how dry and sterile and boring those women had been. ‘Dumb? That’s not a word I’d use to describe you, Maggie.’ And he was suddenly surprised to know that he really meant it. In the last few days he’d had more stimulating conversations with her than he’d had with anyone in a long time. And he was uncomfortably aware of how much he’d come to look forward to walking in that door every day…as much as he might deny it to himself.

      When he looked at her the way he was now, with that heated expression in his eyes, Maggie just wanted to drown in the blue depths. She willed herself back to sanity and felt for the door handle, not even able to break away, much as she wanted to. Finally she found it and practically fell out of the car, fled into the shop…and then came back.

      ‘Sorry, I should have asked, did you want anything?’

      Caleb just shook his head and watched her leave. That something was niggling him again. Like a constant barely-there buzzing in his head, he couldn’t put his finger on it, it was so elusive. And he had to acknowledge the dark part of him that didn’t want to investigate what it was.

      By the time they reached the house he’d put it from his mind. Maggie turned around to face him in the car when they pulled in, something urgent in her movements.

      ‘My mother thinks I’m working for you as an assistant, so please don’t disabuse her of that, and Caleb…’

      He faced her properly, momentarily stunned by the serious expression on her face, the unmistakable protective light in her eyes. He’d seen it before, in Monte Carlo.

      ‘If you do or say anything to upset her…the deal will be off—we’ll cope somehow, but I will walk away and you can have the house.’

      ‘How on earth could I upset your mother, Maggie?’

      ‘She had nothing to do with anything, Caleb, nothing.