The Disobedient Mistress. LYNNE GRAHAM

pulled a surprised grimace. ‘Lighten up, Misty.’

      Feeling guilty, Misty reddened, aware her nerves were jumping like electrified beans. But even her friend had no idea just how precarious her business, Carlton Catering, had become. It was ready to crash and go to the wall. If she did not get that all important contract from Andracchi Industries, the bank would refuse to extend her loan and she would not even have sufficient funds left to pay her employees at the end of the month, never mind her suppliers. Shame drenched her in a tidal wave. How had she got into such a mess?

      A blond male in a smart suit approached her. ‘Mr Andracchi will see you now in his office.’

      She could see the man’s barely concealed surprise that Leone Andracchi should be involving himself yet again in such a minor matter. But then as the great man himself had drawled in explanation almost four months earlier, ‘Lunch is an art to a Sicilian and I want the executives here to benefit from a new experience. I’m tired of watching people scoff sandwiches at their desks. I believe that a proper meal will increase productivity throughout the afternoon.’

      So every day she had provided a light lunch in the executive dining room that had been set up and on afternoons like this, when a major business powwow concluded, she had been asked to stay on to serve refreshments as well. Visiting the cloakroom first, she washed her hands and checked that she was still tidy. She wasn’t looking her best and she knew it, which didn’t help. Sleepless nights and constant worry had left their mark.

      Her own fault, she told herself bitterly. She had taken a risk on Leone Andracchi’s whim and on what might yet prove to be an experiment he had no intention of even continuing. Furthermore, even if he had decided to retain the lunches, there was no guarantee whatsoever that her business would win the contract. He was going to kiss her off. She knew it, could feel it in her bones. Her punishment for borrowing from the bank to expand was coming. What was it to him if her piffling little firm went into receivership? He would probably like to see her beg. Could she do it for Birdie? Beg that big, muscle-bound, arrogant jerk for mercy? She shuddered at the prospect but her only alternative was even less appetizing: Flash would haul her out of trouble without hesitation. Only it would be for a price this time and the price would be her body and she hoped to heaven that she would never, ever sink that low…

      A secretary who looked suitably cowed by the effect of a week-long visit from the tycoon boss of Andracchi Industries opened the door of a big office for her. Straightening her slight shoulders, Misty breathed in deep and walked in, striving for a look of calm confidence, which was in no way echoed by her churning tummy and her damp palms. Please, please don’t let him try to shake hands, she prayed inwardly.

      ‘Sit down, Miss Carlton.’

      Leone Andracchi was on the phone, standing by the sunlit windows of the spacious office. She listened to him talking in soft, liquid Italian, the way a real smoothie talked to a lover. Phone sex, sleazebag, Misty thought loftily and her upper lip curled in disgust. But, unfortunately, Clarice was right on one score. He was drop-dead fantastic to look at. Luxuriant black hair that just begged to be disarranged by a woman’s fingers, stunning high cheekbones, stunning everything, really, she conceded grudgingly. Classic arrogant nose, well-defined ebony brows, really masculine strong jaw, beautifully shaped mouth. As for the eyes, those eyes of his were a revelation on their own. Black as pitch in certain moods, all lustrous, dazzling, sexy gold in another. And he knew how to use them all right to signify just about everything that other people used words to convey.

      She had seen those eyes, in bully mode, freeze employees in their tracks. Send female office staff fluttering with the same sense of threat as hens scenting a fox. He got off on women fussing round him. He was the ‘Me Tarzan, you Jane’ type and he went for fluffy busty little blondes who giggled and gasped and clung. Pathetic, really. In her opinion, a real man would have wanted a real woman, one with a brain, one capable of fighting back and putting him in his place. And if ever a guy had needed putting in his place, it was Leone Andracchi. He was so full of himself he set her teeth on edge.

      Finishing his call, Leone flicked a glance at his waiting victim, wondered why she had that curious little scornful smile hovering on her lips and that faraway, almost smug look in her eyes. He strolled with fluid grace over to the desk and realised that she was genuinely miles away, one of those individuals whose imagination was strong enough to blank out all sense of time and surroundings.

      Misty was acquainted with that old chestnut about imagining intimidating people naked to bring them down to human size, only she wasn’t even a little tempted to picture Leone Andracchi shorn of his exquisitely tailored suit. But just as suddenly she was seeing Leone Andracchi in her mind’s eye and her mind had developed a dismaying life all of its own, imagination running riot on that tall, well-built physique of his. Her own embarrassing thoughts shocked her rigid, shocked her right back to awareness again, cheeks hot, skin tight over her bones.

      ‘Welcome back, Miss Carlton,’ Leone Andracchi murmured with sardonic bite.

      ‘Mr Andracchi…’ Heart beating so fast, she felt as if it were banging at the foot of her throat, Misty forced herself to raise her head high.

      ‘I’m sorry I kept you waiting,’ he added.

      No, he wasn’t. She didn’t know how she knew that, for that lean dark angel face was uniquely uninformative, but she sensed it. He lounged back in galling relaxation against the desk, the indolent angle of his sleek, taut, muscular frame pronounced. He had to be about six feet four at least, she calculated, and not for the first time.

      ‘Naturally you want to know my thoughts on the contract due to be awarded. Although I’m really not obligated to give you that information,’ Leone Andracchi pointed out smoothly. ‘However, in the light of the excellent standard of service you have pioneered over the past eight weeks, I feel it’s only fair to tell you why your bid has been unsuccessful.’

      Her tummy flipped at the confirmation of the refusal that she had most feared. The blood drained from her set features and her hands laced together on her lap. ‘I don’t need empty compliments,’ she said tightly. ‘If Carlton Catering hasn’t been awarded the contract, then you obviously weren’t satisfied with the service at all.’

      ‘It’s not that simple,’ Leone drawled. ‘You’re over-extended and it would be very unwise to take the risk that your business will stay afloat for the duration of a year long agreement.’

      Her silvery grey eyes were now widened to their fullest extent. For the first time she ditched her caution and connected direct with his brilliant dark golden eyes. ‘May I ask you where you received that information?’

      ‘My sources are private.’

      Meeting that steady, fathomless gaze, she could feel her head beginning to swim and the breath catching in her throat. ‘It’s quite untrue.’

      ‘Don’t lie to me. I have no time for lies,’ Leone told her smoothly. ‘My information is always accurate. I know that the only way your bank will extend your loan is if you bring them the contract for the next year’s catering here signed, sealed and delivered.’

      ‘If someone at the bank has been making allegations about the viability of my business, I will be sure to make an official complaint.’ Misty threw her head back, silver eyes blazing challenge. ‘I assure you that were you to give me that contract I would deliver the service required for the period specified and I would not have any problems in doing so.’

      ‘I’m impressed by your optimism,’ Leone countered levelly, ‘but let’s cut to the chase. You have talent and you’re great at organisation but you fell down when it came to the bid for the first contract. Your price was ludicrously low. Yet you’re in a labour-intensive industry, saddled with high staff turnover, crippling insurance costs and public health regulations that are very expensive for a small business to meet. As a result, you have barely recouped your costs.’

      ‘I wanted the job. I priced that bid to win in the obvious hope of recouping costs over the next year,’ Misty informed him. ‘You said you liked to support new local businesses—’

      ‘Not