His Permanent Mistress: Mistress Under Contract. Kate Hardy

warm—chocolate blended with neutrals and greys. Totally tasteful. The kitchen showed no sign of life—no notice board with scrawled numbers, no pile of paperwork on the desk in the corner. Magnificently minimalist.

      Lucy liked maximalist. Colour and chaos and life.

      Even his bookcases were unnaturally neat—stacked with big hardback books that looked as if they’d take a lifetime to read. Then she found it. One solitary photograph framed in a dark wooden frame standing in place of some books in one of the bookcases lining the wall opposite the windows. She picked it up.

      Daniel in full legal regalia—wig and gown, standing next to an older man also in wig and gown. It had to be his father. Had to be. They had the same jaw, same nose, Daniel stood only an inch or two taller, the old and the new. The similarities were striking—except for the eyes. His father’s were brown—plain brown. But Daniel’s were that wild tawny colour, with those amber lights hinting at the warmth and passion and humour that he seemed so determined to hide. In the photo his expression was serious, veiled. All remote austerity again—just like this apartment. She frowned.

      Daniel watched her, screened behind the fine light curtain half drawn across the open balcony doorway. She was taking her time over that photo. He stood, his discomfort at having her in his apartment finally impelling him to move. Daniel didn’t entertain here. He far preferred to stay at his lover’s place so he could leave early in the morning and avoid any moments of intimacy over breakfast—moments that might lead the lady to think a relationship may be in the offing. Daniel didn’t do relationships.

      But Lucy wasn’t such a lover. They’d had sex but that was it. Supposedly. He’d said himself it would only be the once. But he had to admit he’d really, really enjoyed it. She’d been wild. And his body had revelled in the heat and softness of hers.

      He felt keyed up—as he had all night, knowing she was under his roof. For a moment there, after they’d had sex, he’d slept as comfortably as if he were in a bed made with pure cotton sheets and soft coverings, not on top of an old scarred pool table with scratchy felt.

      Knowing that had happened made him tense, wary, and more determined to push her away than pull her close. Despite his basic instinct telling him to have her again. Right now his muscles and his mind were strung out from warring with each other, and with analysing why she’d been pushing too—away.

      ‘Seen enough?’

      She jumped a clear foot. Stared as he walked in from the balcony. ‘I thought you weren’t here.’

      ‘Clearly.’ He pointedly looked at the picture still in her hand.

      But it seemed she had no qualms about her inquisitiveness. ‘This your dad?’

      He nodded. Regular Sherlock Holmes, she was.

      ‘Did your mum take the photo?’

      He froze, blood colder than a snake’s. ‘No.’

      ‘Is it your graduation?’

      So she’d moved on from the family questions. Excellent. ‘Admission to the Bar.’ Having secured his law degree, he’d then had to take some professional papers to be able to practice law. This was the formal presentation of that achievement.

      ‘Your mum wasn’t there?’

      Damn. ‘She was there.’ Second to back row. She’d been late and almost not got a seat.

      Lucy was silent as she looked over the shelves again. He counted the beats before her curiosity won.

      ‘No other family photos?’

      Eight. Not bad—he’d been starting to think she’d be able to contain it. Should have known better. Lucy lacked control. He already knew that. ‘No other family.’

      ‘What about your mum?’

      No stopping her now.

      ‘My mother left my father after fifteen years of marriage. She remarried and has two other children.’ Brief summary of fact. She’d cheated. Found herself someone else. Daniel had never been able to understand it. What the hell had the woman wanted? His father was rich, successful, driven to achieve—for her—and she’d thrown it all in his face.

      ‘Did you go with her?’

      ‘No.’ He could see her now, standing at the door, calling his name, just the once. He’d shaken his head. He’d been so angry with her for breaking up what he’d thought had been a perfect world. She’d turned and walked away. She hadn’t even fought for him.

      ‘How old were you?’

      ‘Fourteen.’

      ‘Your dad’s a lawyer?’

      ‘Yes.’ He answered in the way he instructed his defendants to—honest but brief. Never offer more than you were asked for.

      ‘He works long hours?’

      ‘Yes.’

      Her frown was growing. ‘So what did you do after school?’

      ‘After swimming I would go to his office and do my homework in the library.’ He was heartily sick of this interrogation and irritated with himself for putting up with it this long. He had the horrible impression pity had just crossed her face. He certainly didn’t deserve that. He and his father had established a good life. Both had launched further into work. His dad had hired a housekeeper and given up on women—instructing Daniel never to bother with them, never to trust.

      Daniel had worked hard at his studies, hard at his swimming and, when older, hard at playing the field. He’d found a happy balance—of enjoying what women had to offer without risking his heart.

      Because nobody, but nobody, was walking out on Daniel again.

      His greatest lesson had been self-reliance.

      He took the photo, put it on the shelf and turned the questions back on her. ‘What about you—your parents split up?’ They all seemed to, eventually—in spirit, if not physically.

      She looked surprised. ‘No, not at all. They have a really happy marriage.’ A look of rue crossed her face. ‘But they didn’t do such a great job of parenting.’

      ‘Marriage and children inevitably end in disaster,’ Daniel replied crisply. ‘I don’t intend ever committing to either.’

      Lucy froze, meeting his wintry gaze squarely—and saw the implacable set to his jaw. That was her told, then. He really meant it too. Crazily, she felt sorry for him. Despite what he’d said at the temp agency, Lucy knew they differed. Sure, she didn’t commit to long-term work, but that didn’t mean she didn’t want a long-term relationship, or children even—in the future. A long way in the future. Maybe. Assuming she met someone who’d actually fall for her. Who’d actually believe in her—warts and all.

      Her ‘feeling sorry for’ vibe turned inwards. She shrugged it, and the soft thoughts of him, off. ‘I have to get going. Thanks for the room. I’ll try to get a place sorted as soon as I can.’

      Not waiting for a reply, not wanting to take in just how fine he looked at the moment, she left. Walking briskly towards town, she realised she was starving. She figured she’d head straight for the club and eat there. One take-out Thai curry later, she was temporarily warm on the inside again and kidding herself she’d moved on. Being with Daniel had definitely been a huge mistake and she’d totally done the right thing by breezing over it and putting it behind them. But she couldn’t shake him from her mind completely. Instead she slowly digested the info. Ruminated for several hours, in fact. She’d caught a glimpse of one very angry young man. His mother had left his father—and him. And though she knew he’d deny it, he’d been hurt and had frozen over as a result. Well, Lucy didn’t have the reserves to warm him through. She had issues of her own to deal with. Past demons that popped up when you least expected them, a permanent feeling of idiocy and inferiority, and the doubt that she’d ever find the place where she’d fit in.

      But