The Mistress Contract. Helen Brooks

ever since she had moved into the flat, some eight weeks ago, had been trying to pair them off.

      She had just opened her mouth to give voice to the weakest excuse of all—a blinding headache, which had every likelihood of being perfectly true the way her head was thumping after the hectic day—when a deep cold voice cut through the balmy evening air like a knife through butter.

      ‘It would have been quicker to walk here with this damn traffic.’

      ‘Mr Quentin!’ She had whirled right round to face the road at the sound of his voice and her heart seemed to stop, and then race on like a greyhound.

      Conrad Quentin was sitting at the wheel of a silver Mercedes, the driver’s window down and his arm resting on the ledge as he surveyed her lazily from narrowed blue eyes in the fading light. The big beautiful car, the dark, brooding quality of its inhabitant and the utter surprise of it all robbed Sephy of all coherent thought, and it was a few moments before the mocking sapphire gaze told her she was looking at him with her mouth open.

      She shut her lips so suddenly her teeth jarred, and then made a superhuman effort to pull herself together as she muttered in a soft aside to Jerry, ‘It’s my boss from work,’ before walking quickly across the pavement to the side of the waiting vehicle.

      ‘One set of keys.’ He spoke before she could say anything. ‘I noticed them on the floor as I was leaving and thought they might be important?’ he added quietly as he handed her the keyring.

      She stared at the keys for a moment before raising her burning face to his cool perusal. Her flat keys, the keys to her mother’s house and car, as well as those for Mr Harper’s office and the filing cabinets. What must he be thinking? she asked herself hotly. It wasn’t exactly reassuring to think one’s temporary secretary was in the habit of mislaying such items. Ex-temporary secretary!

      ‘I dropped my bag earlier.’ It was a monotone, but all she could manage. ‘They must have fallen out.’

      ‘Undoubtedly.’ It was very dry.

      ‘Tha…thank you.’ Oh, don’t stutter! Whatever else, don’t stutter, she told herself heatedly.

      ‘My pleasure.’ He eyed her sardonically.

      ‘It was when the fax from Einhorn came through,’ she said quickly. ‘I knew you were waiting for it and I knocked my bag off the desk as I went to reach for it. I must have missed the keys…’ Her voice trailed away weakly. It could have been his keys she’d dropped, the keys to his confidential papers and so on, if he had retrieved Madge’s set. Which he hadn’t yet. And when he did, he was hardly likely to give them to her now, was he? she belaboured herself miserably. He must think she was a featherbrain! And she’d never done anything like this with Mr Harper.

      ‘No one is perfect, Seraphina.’ And then he further surprised her when he added, the brilliant blue eyes holding hers, ‘It’s a relief, actually. I was beginning to think I’d have my work cut out to keep up with you.’

      Her mouth was open again but she couldn’t help it.

      ‘So…’ His dark husky voice was soft and low. ‘Is that the boyfriend?’ The blue eyes looked past her and they were mocking.

      ‘What?’ She was still recovering from being let off the hook.

      ‘The guy who is glaring at me.’ It was a slow, amused drawl. ‘Is he your boyfriend?’

      Belatedly she remembered Jerry, and as she turned her head, following the direction of Conrad Quentin’s eyes, she saw Jerry was indeed glaring. ‘No, no of course not,’ she said distractedly. ‘He’s just a neighbour, a friend.’

      The black eyebrows went a notch higher. ‘Really?’ It was cryptic.

      ‘Yes, really,’ she snapped back, before she remembered this was Conrad Quentin she was talking to. ‘He…he owns the shop below my flat,’ she said more circumspectly. ‘That’s all.’ And then she added, as the vivid blue gaze became distinctly uncomfortable, ‘Thank you so much for bringing the keys, and I’m sorry to have put you to so much trouble.’

      ‘How sorry?’ he asked smoothly.

      ‘What?’ It was becoming a habit, this ‘what?’, but then she might have known he wouldn’t react like ninety-nine per cent of people would to her gracious little speech, she told herself silently.

      ‘I said, how sorry?’ he drawled lazily, the sapphire eyes as sharp as blue glass. ‘Sorry enough to accompany me to the hospital tonight?’

      She almost said ‘The hospital?’ before she managed to bite back the fatuous words and say instead, ‘Why would you want me to do that, Mr Quentin?’ with some modicum of composure.

      ‘I told you, I don’t like hospitals,’ he said easily as he settled back in the leather seat. ‘Besides, I’m sure Madge would feel more comfortable with another woman around.’

      ‘I thought you had a date for tonight? I’m sure Miss de Menthe would be pleased to accompany you.’ She hadn’t meant to say it but it had just sort of popped out on its own.

      ‘Caroline is not the sort of woman you take to the hospital to visit your aged secretary,’ he said drily.

      No, she’d just bet she wasn’t! Sephy thought nastily. No doubt he had something else entirely in mind for the voluptuous model.

      ‘But of course if you have other plans…’

      She stared at him, her mind racing. If she stayed at home she would have to go to the party, and that would mean a night of further embarrassment with Jerry, because one thing was for sure—he’d made up his mind he wasn’t going to take no for an answer. Which would have been nice and flattering if she’d even the slightest inkling of ever fancying him. As it was…

      ‘When are you thinking of going?’ she asked carefully, her voice low.

      ‘Now seems as good a time as any.’ And then he smiled slowly, a fascinatingly breath-stopping smile, as he added, ‘Does that mean you are considering taking pity on me?’

      Sephy stood as though glued to the hot pavement and swallowed twice before she managed to say, ‘I’ll have to go and change first. I’ll be about five minutes?’

      ‘Fine.’ He glanced over her shoulder. ‘The guy who isn’t the boyfriend looks like he wants a word with you,’ he drawled laconically before the sapphire gaze homed in again on her warm face.

      ‘Yes, right…’ She was backing away as she spoke, suddenly overwhelmed by what she had agreed to.

      She must be mad, she told herself silently as she walked back to Jerry, who was waiting in the doorway of his shop, his pleasant, attractive face straight and his brown eyes fixed on her face. If it was a choice of an evening fending off Jerry as kindly as she could or choosing to spend an hour or so in Conrad Quentin’s company there was no contest! The amiable puppy had it every time. But it was too late now.

      ‘You told me your boss was small and fat and had eight grandchildren,’ Jerry accused her as she reached his side.

      ‘He is and he does,’ Sephy said weakly. ‘That’s the owner of the business, Mr Quentin, and I’m standing in for his secretary for a while. There…there’s an emergency and I’ve got to go with him.’ She was terribly conscious of the parked car behind them.

      ‘Now?’ Jerry made no effort to lower his voice.

      ‘I’m afraid so.’ She nodded firmly and inserted the key in the lock as she added, ‘So it looks like the party is off for me, Jerry. Make my apologies to Maisie, would you? Tell her I’ll see her at the weekend. For a coffee or something.’

      ‘How long do you think you will be?’ He was nothing if not hopeful, his voice holding a pleading note which increased her guilt.

      ‘Ages,’ she answered briskly as the door swung wide. ‘Bye, Jerry.’ This was definitely a