His After-Hours Mistress. Trish Wylie

and happy engagement, they’d even been planning their wedding, and then he’d dumped her without any real explanation except to say that their relationship wasn’t working. She’d heard afterwards that he’d met someone else—and it hadn’t done much for her ego. From that day on she had sworn she would be careful not to lose her heart so easily to another man. Especially one like Zane Alexander!

      ‘If you mean do I enjoy taking beautiful young ladies out to dinner, then the answer is yes.’

      Lucinda frowned. ‘And your wife, what does she have to say about it?’ Thinking about Simon had made her feel angry and her voice was waspish.

      Well-marked brows rose; his surprise very evident. ‘I don’t have a wife.’

      ‘You mean you’re divorced?’ she asked sharply.

      ‘I’ve never been married,’ he answered, more puzzlement in his tone. ‘I’ve never met anyone I’ve wanted to settle down with.’

      ‘So where does Tim fit into the equation?’ she asked, feeling hopelessly lost now.

      ‘Ah!’ Enlightenment dawned on Zane’s handsome face. ‘You think Tim is my son?’

      ‘Well, isn’t he?’ she questioned crossly.

      ‘Actually, no, he’s my brother’s child. I was merely looking after him.’

      Lucinda leaned back in her seat and stared. ‘You were looking after him?’ She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. It was an even worse scenario than she had thought. ‘That is disgraceful—paying someone to look after a child who’d been put into your care.’ Her eyes were a vivid angry green and she sat forward on the edge of her seat, wanting to take a swipe at him. ‘How could you do such a thing?’

      ‘Perhaps I should enlighten you,’ Zane said tersely. A waiter showing them to their table had interrupted their conversation, but once their first course had been placed in front of them he could hold his tongue no longer. Who the hell did Lucinda Oliver think she was? How dared she condemn him?

      ‘Nothing you can say will excuse the fact that you let your nephew down,’ Lucinda snapped. ‘How could you offload Tim on to a stranger?’

      ‘Just listen,’ he rasped, annoyed now by her determination to cast him as the bad guy. ‘To start with, my brother and his wife died in a road accident when Tim was eighteen months old.’

      Lucinda’s lovely eyes widened. ‘That’s awful; I didn’t know.’

      ‘Of course you didn’t,’ he snarled. ‘His maternal grandmother took him in. When one day she was rushed into hospital there was no one to look after him except me. Unfortunately I had a series of extremely important business meetings—hence employing you.’ Damn, why was he explaining this to her? She didn’t deserve an explanation. Except that she was beginning to get under his skin like no other woman ever had!

      ‘Not that I expect you to understand,’ he declared shortly. ‘I think maybe this evening was a mistake. Let’s go.’ And he pushed back his chair.

      ‘I’m sorry,’ said Lucinda quietly.

      ‘And that’s supposed to make it better, is it?’ he growled. Two miserable little words of apology after she’d made aspersions on his character. It wasn’t good enough. He’d had his fill of this woman and her patronising behaviour.

      ‘I love kids, that’s all,’ she added, as if reading his thoughts. ‘I don’t think they should be given a hard time. But I can see now that you did the best you could, and I’m sorry I thought ill of you. Have I blotted my copybook as far as the job’s concerned?’

      Her eyes were wide and apologetic—and incredibly beautiful. Zane felt himself weakening and hated himself for it. ‘I really haven’t time to start looking for someone all over again.’

      ‘So you still want me?’ she asked, her voice husky now.

      Want her? Of course he wanted her! Far too badly! She was exceptionally fine-looking—too gorgeous to ignore. He loved the little black dress with its rhinestone straps and a décolletage that stopped just short of revealing the delightful fullness of her breasts. Her skin was velvety smooth and her perfume sweet and tantalising. She looked stylish, yet there was an innocent freshness about her as well.

      He drew in a long breath and let it go slowly before pulling his chair back up to the table. ‘Let’s talk about it.’

      By the end of the evening Lucinda began to look forward to working in St Lucia. Zane was going to fly her out in a few days, giving them both time to sort their diaries. It would be the most exciting job of her career.

      As they sipped their coffee, Lucinda telling Zane that she already had some ideas, the head chef came out to say hello.

      ‘Zane, it is good to see you again.’ The two men shook hands. He was French and short and rotund, and he looked curiously at Lucinda.

      ‘This is Lucinda Oliver,’ introduced Zane, ‘an interior designer who’s going to do some work for me.’

      ‘She is beautiful, is she not, you lucky old dog,’ said the chef. And then, in his native language, ‘Is she your girlfriend as well, or is that what you would like her to be?’

      Zane answered in French also. ‘She is not my girlfriend.’

      ‘But you are working on her? And who can blame you? She is—extraordinarily attractive. If I were not married I would pursue her myself.’

      ‘You would not stand a chance, my friend,’ said Zane with a dazzling smile.

      Of all the conceited men, Zane Alexander took the biscuit! Lucinda flashed her green eyes and, speaking in perfect French, said, ‘Excuse me, gentlemen, but I do not like being talked about like this.’

      The chef’s mouth fell open and, in English, he said, ‘Mademoiselle, I am so sorry. Do accept my apologies. But you are indeed beautiful.’

      Lucinda smiled and waited for Zane’s apology also—but it didn’t materialise. And when his friend had gone back to the kitchen she turned on him. ‘Do you normally talk like that about someone who’s going to do a job for you?’

      ‘Only when they’re particularly lovely,’ he acknowledged with a tiny tug at the corners of his mouth. He looked not in the least concerned that he had been found out. Instead he said, ‘I congratulate you on your fluent French.’

      Lucinda huffed but said nothing more, finishing her coffee instead and then pronouncing herself ready to leave. Of one thing she was very sure—she was not going to be Zane’s girlfriend, no matter how hard he tried. Or how much she was attracted to him!

      After her experience with her ex-fiancé, she had no intention of taking any man at face value; trust would have to be earned over a long period. Far longer than the few weeks this project would take. In any case, she felt sure that Zane Alexander had no real interest in her long-term. It would simply amuse him to try and seduce her while on the island.

      She imagined him to be somewhere in his late thirties and if he wasn’t married there had to be a good reason for it. In all probability it was because he enjoyed playing the field. Not that she had any proof; it was all pure conjecture on her part, but why else would he still be a bachelor?

      When Lucinda told her mother about her plans she was thrilled for her. ‘What a wonderful opportunity,’ she said. ‘I almost wish I was coming with you.’ Not that Ruth was ever short of exotic holidays. If David was too busy to go with her she went with one of her many friends. When Lucinda told her mother about her plans she was thrilled for her. ‘What a wonderful opportunity,’ she said. ‘I almost wish I was coming with you.’ Not that Ruth was ever short of exotic holidays. If David was too busy to go with her she went with one of her many friends.

      ‘It will be pure work,’ reminded Lucinda. ‘There won’t be much pleasure in it.’

      ‘Nonsense!’