At His Service: Millionaire's Mistress. Kelly Hunter

she? They were both single, unattached and available and this was twenty-first-century Australia.

      Finally, she met his gaze. ‘I’ll be wearing my own clothes if we go out, thanks. And believe it when I tell you no one can manage my hair but me.’

      Cam let out a deep slow breath as he watched Didi run her hands through the unruly tufts. He hadn’t realised he’d been holding his breath and mentally shook his head at the sheer madness of whatever-the-hell-it-was that had gripped him until he saw the agreement in her eyes.

      Sex was the motivation, right? Yet this crazy feeling was like nothing he’d ever felt before. Before he could stop himself he crossed the room to take that beautiful bewitching face between his hands and watch last night’s afterglow in her eyes sparkle.

      She smelled of sleep and sex and his mouth fell onto hers as if he’d relinquished control of his movements to some unseen force. Unthinkable to resist. Impossible to pretend he wasn’t instantly aroused by her warm womanly shape beneath the terry-towelling robe, by the feel of her hands sliding around his naked back as she fashioned herself against him.

      Exclusively his for the next two and a half weeks.

      The sound of someone passing by the door pulled him out of the moment. Reluctant, he drew back, soothing her lips with his before he said, ‘I’d better make myself presentable while you go see if our guest wants some breakfast.’ And I need to put some priorities in order, starting now.

      ‘Hmm.’ Her fingers found their way beneath his waistband and she looked up at him. ‘I kind of like you unpresentable.’

      Drawing her hands away, he clasped them together. ‘Go. Now. Before I forget I’m supposed to be the host.’ And that today’s another business day with a couple of site inspections and three meetings scheduled.

      Twenty minutes later he helped himself to a mug of coffee. Veronica was sipping from her own mug on the sofa by the living-room window while Didi took eggs from the refrigerator. The apartment’s open-plan living arrangement allowed him to view both women simultaneously.

      Two sisters couldn’t be more different. It wasn’t lost on him that at a purely superficial level Veronica was more like the usual type of woman who shared the occasional breakfast here before they went their separate ways to work.

      Charlie greeted Cam as he carried his steaming mug towards the sofa. Why was it that cats invariably chose to smooch people who ignored them? But he bent down to fondle the silky ears as he nodded at their guest. ‘Veronica. I apologise for not being up earlier. I trust you slept well?’

      ‘I did. Thank you.’ Sipping delicately, she eyed him with a hint of the distrust she’d shown last night. ‘You have a lovely apartment.’

      ‘We like it.’ He smiled at Didi, who was whipping up eggs with one eye and watching them with another.

      Veronica arched a brow. ‘How long have you been here, Didi?’

      The whisk faltered but only for a second. ‘Um … not long …’

      ‘Didi’s a relative newcomer but I’ve been here a few years.’ Cam covered the hitch smoothly.

      ‘Ah …’ Veronica eyed him with an I-know-your-game glint and when she spoke her voice was silk. ‘You’re the gallery owner who leases it to my sister for a low rent. How … convenient. But you’re not interstate—Didi told me you were.’

      He glanced at Didi, back to Veronica. ‘And so I was … yesterday.’

      Glancing at the Sheila Dodd and Didi’s work against the wall, she observed, ‘You’re also an art collector.’

      ‘Actually, the Before the Temptation one is mine,’ Didi said, setting two frying pans on the stove with satisfied clangs. ‘Scrambled eggs okay?’

      ‘Yes. Fine.’ Veronica paused, sculptured brows rising. ‘Yours?’

      ‘Yep. As in I made it.’

      ‘Beautifully crafted, isn’t it?’ Cam said, smiling, watching Veronica’s bemused expression. ‘It should fetch a tidy price at the gallery.’

      ‘It’s not for sale,’ Didi said over the counter top.

      ‘Ah … yes. Very nice.’ Veronica set her mug down with a delicate clink. No well-deserved praise, Cam noted.

      ‘Mum and Dad send their love.’ Casually spoken but Cam felt the immediate undercurrent between the two sisters.

      Wouldn’t they have had this conversation yesterday? This was purely for his benefit.

      Didi only glanced up as she stirred eggs into one pan, set bacon sizzling in the other. ‘I’ve been very busy.’

      ‘Too busy to call?’

      Silence except for the crackle of bacon. ‘I’ll do things my way, Veronica,’ Didi said finally. ‘When I’m ready.’ She sliced avocado onto plates.

      Cam watched the interaction. Clearly Didi had further issues with her parents that she’d yet to share with him.

      ‘So where did you two meet?’

      Didi caught Cam’s eye, then said, ‘At a cocktail party.’

      He grinned back at Didi over his coffee. ‘I turned around and there she was. It was literally sparks at three paces.’

      ‘Really? So, Cameron, this gallery you own …’Her pursed lips were quite deliberate. ‘That makes you Didi’s boss?’

      ‘Not exactly. Didi’s working on a commission at present,’ Cam said carefully. ‘Her work’s going to be demanding a small fortune soon.’ No lies there. ‘You’ll have to put in an order before word gets out.’

      ‘It’s not really my thing,’ Veronica said with a lazy disinterest that annoyed Cam. ‘Fabric and threads collect dust. Daniel’s allergies wouldn’t allow it.’

      How could she be so dismissive of her sister’s talent? ‘Unfortunate,’ was all Cam allowed himself to say but he felt his hackles rise on Didi’s account. He suppressed the urge to slice into Veronica. ‘Smells like breakfast’s ready. Shall we adjourn to the breakfast bar?’

      Veronica left a short time later with Cameron’s limo made available until her flight departed. As Didi cleared the dishes into the dishwasher she turned to see that her lover had disappeared behind a neatly pressed businessman with money-making on his agenda. He was studying her work-in-progress—or lack of—with a calculating eye.

      Tension gripped the base of her skull but she refused to let his authoritarian stance intimidate her, or the fact that they’d spent the night naked together prevent her from saying, ‘I spent yesterday sketching designs and collecting supplies.’

      ‘What have you decided on?’ he asked, flipping through her boxes of threads and silks.

      ‘This one.’ She handed him the outline she’d decided on. ‘I thought fire. It’s fluid and alive; a rising-from-the-ashes kind of thing. Contrasts—obscurity and brilliance.’

      ‘The eternal flame,’ Cameron mused. ‘A memorial. Appropriate.’ He paced to the window, hands in his pockets, stared out for a long moment before turning to her. ‘You have everything you need?’

      ‘For now, yes. A memorial to whom?’

      An expression of barely veiled regret crossed his face before he blinked it away and a wistfulness crept into his eyes, a small smile tipped his mouth. ‘Someone I knew. Someone I owe.’

      Who had he known? Who did he owe? Why didn’t he tell her?

      Because this arrangement was only temporary, she reminded herself. She didn’t need to know his life history. And this was the right choice of theme, she thought, watching him. This was the emotion she wanted to capture—darkness into light—and it obviously resonated with him.

      He