His After-Hours Mistress. Trish Wylie

to realise that he would enjoy the pleasure of peeling the suit off her slow inch by slow inch and feasting his eyes on the sylphlike body beneath.

      ‘It all depends,’ she said with a faint grimace.

      Zane berated himself. It was ridiculous to let his thoughts run in such a foolish direction. ‘On what?’ he asked briskly. ‘On how much I’d pay you?’

      ‘Amongst other things,’ she acknowledged, her eyes steady on his now, no sign of the tension he had seen earlier. ‘For instance, where would I be staying? Is the house habitable?’

      ‘Absolutely,’ he concurred, pleased to hear that she was considering his proposition. Perhaps she’d suddenly realised that she was on to a good thing.

      ‘And how long would I be away?’ she asked. ‘I’m not used to—’

      ‘Do you have family commitments?’ he interrupted sharply, glancing curiously at her left hand. He felt strangely relieved when he saw no ring, then asked himself why. So long as she could do the job, her personal affairs were inconsequential.

      ‘None at all,’ she answered. ‘You needn’t fear that there’s anything to get in the way of my work.’

      ‘No boyfriend who’d object to you being away for a few weeks?’ He watched her face closely. He was intrigued. In almost three years she had changed from a girl, a well-adjusted girl admittedly, to a sophisticated, confident woman whose rise up the ladder of success was truly remarkable.

      Lucinda’s smile was wry. ‘No boyfriend.’

      Was that regret he heard in her voice? Had there been someone recently? He wanted to know but it was too soon for such personal questions. And he had to ask himself why he was taking such an inordinate interest in her private life. Purely to safeguard his interests, of course! He didn’t want someone who couldn’t give one hundred per cent of her attention.

      ‘Then I think we should look at the rest of the photographs,’ he said quietly. ‘And tonight I’ll take you out to dinner so that we can discuss the project properly.’ He pushed back a cuff and glanced at his watch.

      ‘And what is wrong with discussing it now?’ asked Lucinda, hearing the crossness in her voice but ignoring it.

      Brows rose disapprovingly. ‘Although you come highly recommended, I prefer to make my own judgement.’

      Lucinda tossed her head, her eyes flashing crossly. ‘I thought you’d convinced yourself that I was good enough?’

      ‘And of course,’ he added, ignoring her question, ‘I need to make sure that you and I get on.’

      His eyes connected with hers as he spoke and his meaning was very clear. Lucinda felt the hairs on the back of her neck bristle. Anger flared hot and fluid through her veins and her green eyes sparked fire. But when she spoke there was no hint in her voice that she knew what he had in mind.

      ‘You think that taking me out to dinner is the best way of doing it? I think not, Mr Alexander. Whatever needs to be discussed can be done right here and now. If that doesn’t suit you then perhaps I shouldn’t be here at all.’

      She got up and headed for the door but Zane was there before her, moving remarkably quickly for such a tall man. She guessed he was about six-four—wide-shouldered and hard-muscled, as though he worked out several times a week.

      His face was grim, brows pulled tightly together. ‘Hardly a professional attitude.’

      ‘I beg your pardon?’ Lucinda glared and stood that little bit taller. Not that she was intimidated by him! She was five feet eight herself and equalled most men. ‘My attitude has nothing to do with it. It’s yours that’s in question,’ she parried accusingly. ‘Admit it, you were doubtful once you saw who I was.’ But it didn’t alter the fact that he had designs on her! She could tell that by the way he looked at her. Would he be accompanying her to St Lucia? Would they be sharing his house? Lucinda suddenly realised what a dangerous situation she could be getting herself into.

      Broad shoulders shrugged. ‘Can you blame me?’ It was more a statement than a question.

      ‘So recommendations weren’t enough?’ Lord, she wanted to take a swipe at him, knock that superior expression off his face.

      ‘I like to make up my own mind.’

      In more ways than one, she thought edgily. She’d had enough of this conversation and reached for the door handle.

      ‘Not so quickly,’ breathed Zane. ‘You’re here for a purpose. Please, allow me to finish the show.’ And, with complete disregard for her feelings, he steered her back into the room and pushed her unceremoniously on to the chair.

      Lucinda’s blood boiled and she took several deep steadying breaths. Never in her life had she found a man more irritating than Zane Alexander. She didn’t trust him, so how could she work for him? She would be on tenterhooks the whole time. On the other hand, his business would be highly profitable. For that reason alone she would be foolish to turn him down.

      She had no idea how lovely she looked with her face flaming almost as red as her hair and her eyes a more brilliant green than they’d ever been before. All she knew was that she was spitting mad and that this man was the cause.

      ‘We’re inside the house now and this is the living area.’

      Zane’s voice interrupted her thoughts and she fixed her attention on the screen. The room was huge.

      ‘I’ve had two rooms knocked into one. I like to have plenty of space. And here we have the main bedroom.’

      Oh, Lord, if she took this job she would be expected to dress this room. To suit him! Immediately she had a vision of steel and silver and ice-blue. Cold and hard and totally devoid of feeling! ‘Would you be accompanying me to St Lucia?’ she asked in a breathless voice.

      ‘Obviously.’

      A shiver ran down her spine. ‘And we’d both be staying at the house?’

      ‘Of course,’ he answered and, without giving her time to object, he carried on with the show. ‘This is bedroom number two and, as you can see, they are both fully furnished. And here are numbers three and four, the main bathroom, the kitchen.’ He had realised she wasn’t listening and consequently rushed through the rest of the images. ‘What do you think?’

      What did she think? That she didn’t want to be living there with him. ‘I think I’d prefer to stay in a hotel.’

      Smoky blue eyes locked on to hers. ‘No deal!’ he announced shortly. ‘The house is remote; there’s no hotel for miles. It would be inconvenient for you to—’

      ‘Damn the convenience!’ she cried. ‘How about the propriety?’

      A faint smile curved his mouth. ‘Who’s to know?’

      Lucinda did not find it funny. ‘It’s unethical.’

      ‘You think I might take advantage of the situation?’

      The hot colour in Lucinda’s cheeks gave her away. ‘Actually, yes.’

      But she knew she had to trust him—although those wicked blue eyes didn’t invite trust. His lips quirked. ‘Perhaps it’s yourself you’re afraid of. Don’t think I haven’t noticed that you’re very much aware of me.’

      Lucinda’s eyes flashed and she ignored the hot streak through her veins. ‘Of all the conceited, overbearing men, you take the biscuit. You know exactly how I feel about you.’

      ‘The point is, do you know how you feel?’ he asked with quiet innuendo.

      Lucinda closed her eyes. The argument was lost; she might as well give in gracefully. It would be foolish to turn down this dream job because of what might happen. If Zane decided to make advances on her, surely she was woman enough to deal with him?

      Zane saw her weakening and took advantage.