His Permanent Mistress: Mistress Under Contract. Kate Hardy
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She couldn’t stand the silence any more. ‘Big case, huh?’
He lifted his head. ‘Reasonably.’
‘Are you going to get him off?’
‘I’m going to do my best.’
He looked back to his pages. OK. It was like trying to get information out of the Kremlin. Mr Closed Shop. She had the urge to open him up. What would he be like out of the suit? What would he be like in bed?
Serious. Strong. Intense. Her whole body was on edge just from having him over five feet away. How fierce would her tension be if he were to get even closer—as close as a man and woman can physically get? And how complete would the relief be when that tension snapped?
Intuitively she knew it would be incredible.
She finished the area behind the bar and checked and double-checked the inventory of stock. She was tired from a long day walking round temp agencies and she was hungry but it looked as if Daniel was settled in for a long night over the books. How late did he expect her to work? She decided to give him a status report and wow him with her efficiency.
‘I’ve organised the staff for Friday—they’re coming in for a meeting tomorrow afternoon. Will you want to be here for that?’
He looked up, his eyes taking a moment to focus on her. When they did it was with deadly accuracy. ‘I might be around—what time?’
‘Three p.m. Meanwhile I’m looking into a replacement bouncer for the Thursday to Saturday shifts. I know someone perfect for the job.’
He didn’t look impressed. He looked sceptical. ‘Is he qualified?’
‘Of course.’ She couldn’t wait to see his face when he saw her bouncer. Her imp of disobedience must have been obvious because he stared hard at her but refrained from comment. Lucy was disappointed; she’d wanted to tell him all about the black belt in ju-jitsu and six-foot-two physique. Instead he started the interrogation about everything else.
‘What about the stock?’
‘I’ve done an inventory and cleaned the shelves at the same time. I’ll start contacting the reps first thing in the morning.’
‘DJ?’
‘Looking into it. Again, I thought I’d use my contacts.’
‘What about the fire extinguishers and escape routes—got those sorted?’
She stared at him. ‘Rules and regulations all you can think about?’
‘We’re not talking some small café here. We’re talking a bar—late licence, heaving dance floor on the weekend. Health and safety is paramount.’
Well, for him it would be. He’d never see this place as a place to have fun. It was obvious it was all one huge headache to him. He was probably a refined wine-club kind of guy. All the law students she’d known when she was at university were going on about vintage and method and paying outrageous sums for a tiny glass of something sublime down at the exclusive bars on the fringes of the power enclave in central Wellington. ‘OK, I’ll check the fire exits.’
‘I expect you to drill the staff in that. The last thing I’m having is some disaster on my watch.’
‘Yes, boss.’ There were risks to health and safety in any bar at any time. And she wasn’t thinking fire or earthquake. There were other battles to wage and she’d ensure her staff were au fait with defence weaponry because that was one thing she did know about—firsthand.
He reached into his pocket. ‘I got a key cut for you.’He handed her a slip of paper at the same time. ‘This is the code for the alarm.’
‘You’re sure about this? You don’t want to meet me outside?’ She couldn’t help the little bite.
His eyes flashed a warning but he spoke as if her tone hadn’t registered. ‘I have an important meeting tomorrow. I can’t say how long it will go for. You’ll just have to get on with it.’
She eyed him, very nearly clicking her heels and saluting.
He looked down at his spread files; she could see the way the contents were calling to him. The challenge of the earlier part of the evening had faded beneath his preoccupation. She reached behind the bar and retrieved her bag and violin case. Both felt heavy. She was tired and she wasn’t looking forward to a restless night’s sleep in the company of strangers.
He stood and stretched out his shoulders. ‘You’ll be OK getting home?’
She nearly laughed aloud. ‘No problem.’
He nodded. ‘Thanks.’
Maybe she had impressed him a little with the effort she’d put in tonight. Her sudden smile was warmer than she intended. ‘See you tomorrow.’
He sat again, no sign of any softening in return. In fact, he frowned a little. ‘You’ll pull the door right behind you on the way out?’
‘Sure.’ Stupidly she was disappointed. She’d thought the least he could manage was a smile. Didn’t smile much, Daniel. And why not see her out down the stairs? He couldn’t even manage that small act of politeness. He really was as typical as she’d first thought. Arrogant and uncaring. His head was back down. She didn’t think he even noticed that she was heading out the door.
Daniel felt as if he’d been reading the same line for about three hours. He listened as those teasing cowgirl boots started to trudge downstairs. He checked his watch. Just past ten-thirty. His frown deepened. He moved quickly.
‘Lucy?’
She was halfway down already. She turned to look up at him, her hair hanging long down her back, her face shadowed by the overhead light.
‘You’re sure you’re OK to get home?’
He saw the flash of her smile. ‘Yeah. Thanks.’ She paused. ‘Thanks for the job, Daniel.’
‘OK.’
He waited for her to descend, for the door to snib behind her.
Then he walked slowly back to his work. That smile was a knockout. He’d seen it—what, twice in the whole evening? Not the sarcastic, smart one that had edges sharp enough to cut glass. This smile had been huge and genuine and very attractive. He was in for a long, sleepless night and suddenly that smile was all he could see on the pages in front of him. Concentration obliterated.