by this back-handed compliment. My goodness! He thought she was his father’s mistress!
She opened her mouth to tear strips off him, but then slowly closed it again, her mind racing to put this puzzle together. If he thought she was his father’s bit on the side, then he actually knew very little. Just a name. Not the woman in question’s age. Nor anything else about her. He certainly had no idea Ms Jessica Gilbert was a forty-two-year-old single mother with a twenty-six-year-old daughter. He definitely had no idea how long the affair had been going on.
Celia could say anything she liked and Lionel’s son would probably believe it.
She thought of her mother and knew what she had to do.
Celia sighed, uncrossed her arms and stepped back out of the doorway. “I suppose you’d better come in,” she said with a wave of her hand, all the while wondering what approach she should take for the part of Lionel’s secret mistress.
His son was no fool, so best stick to the truth as much as possible so that she didn’t slip up. She would simply bring the affair forward twenty years and put herself in her mother’s place.
It would be difficult to pretend she’d loved the ruthless Lionel, let alone made love with him.
But she’d manage.
Somehow.
Luke tried to get a grip on his anger as he accepted her reluctant invitation and stepped into his father’s secret love nest.
He failed wretchedly. But who, exactly, was he angry with? His father, for not living up to his hero status? Or this creature, this incredibly sensual creature of the captivating and cat-like green eyes?
Luke strode across the large open-plan living room, his eyes taking in at a glance the simple yet elegant beauty of the place. The extensive use of wood had his father’s hand stamped all over it, though not everything was made of pine inside, only the kitchen and the walls. The polished wooden floors were boxwood and the high panelled ceiling looked like various types of cedar. The dining room table was made in a rich walnut, the finely carved chairs fashioned in the same wood, with dark green velvet cushions. The huge sofa facing the sandstone fireplace was also covered in the same dark green velvet.
As Luke walked past it, he couldn’t help thinking about what might have transpired on that sofa between his father and his mistress. And on the plush-pile cream rug stretched out on the floor in front of the fireplace. He could see her red-gold hair now, spread out and glowing in the fire light. He could almost feel the warmth of the flames on her pale skin, and practically taste the siren sweetness of her lips, drawing her married lover down, down into the hell-fires where lust ruled and faithfulness was totally forgotten.
Luke wrenched out one of the dining chairs and plonked himself down sideways in it, one elbow on the table, his other on the back of the chair. No way was he going to sit on the sofa. Nor make himself too comfortable. This was going to be a very brief visit.
“Would you like a drink?” she asked politely after shutting the door. “Tea? Coffee? A glass of wine?”
“No, thanks.” No politeness in his voice. It was rough and gruff.
“I think, perhaps,” she murmured in her sweet siren’s voice, “I could do with one.”
He watched her walk over to the galley-style kitchen, his gaze sweeping down her body then up again.
She was mistress material all right, with curves in all the right places. And she dressed for the part. Long, floaty wraparound skirt in a deep burgundy colour. A black knitted cardigan top with a deep scooped neckline and easy-to-undo buttons. No bra. Bare feet.
Luke estimated it would take a man less than twenty seconds to strip her naked, if she made no objections.
The image of his father sweeping through that door and immediately doing just that brought a flood of fierce feelings within Luke. More anger. A degree of disgust. And a perturbing amount of jealousy!
She poured herself a glass of white wine from a bottle in the fridge and came round to slide up on one of three pine stools which faced the kitchen counter. But she didn’t face the kitchen counter. She faced him, her green eyes thoughtful.
“What do you want, then?” she said as she crossed her legs and lifted the glass to her lips.
When her skirt fell slightly apart to show more than a tantalising glimpse of shapely leg, Luke struggled to banish the X-rated images that zoomed into his mind.
“I just want to talk to you,” he replied, pleased that his tone was a bit more businesslike and less angry.
Her delicate eyebrows arched cynically, and Luke wondered if his father had told her he only wanted to talk to her when they’d first met.
The image of his father as a ruthless womaniser didn’t sit any better with Luke than the image of him as a seduced fool.
He’d thought he’d known all the answers when she’d opened the door, but that wasn’t true. The physical reality of Ms Jessica Gilbert now raised a hundred more tantalising questions. But one stood out amongst all the others?
“Did you love him?” he asked abruptly, and watched her reactions.
Her lovely eyes rounded, her nostrils flaring in and out as she sucked in sharply. “I don’t think that’s any of your business,” she bit out.
“I think it is, Ms Gilbert. My father visited his solicitor the day before he died,” he went on. “His intention was to gift this place over to you. But he was killed before he could see to the transfer. He revealed that he’d been letting you live here rent-free for the past few years, but that he wanted you to have security for life.”
“I see…”
Her green eyes glittered with contempt. But for whom? Luke puzzled.
“You think I was sleeping with your father for what I could get out of him,” she stated coldly.
“It did cross my mind,” he admitted.
“I’m sure it did. I presume you won’t be signing this place over to me, then, will you?” she added drily.
“That depends,” he said, and watched a speculative interest replace the contempt in her eyes.
“On what?” she asked carefully.
The moment she asked that question in that fashion, Luke at least knew one of the answers he’d been looking for. She hadn’t been in love with his father. She had been in it for the material gain all along.
It made brutal sense. Why else would a girl as young as this be having an affair with a man as old as his father?
Luke wondered how much she’d already gleaned from him in cash during their liaison. Not to mention presents, the sort of presents rich older men gave their beautiful young mistresses. Clothes. Jewelry. Perfume. Lingerie.
She’d look incredibly sexy in black lace…
“On what does it depend?” she demanded to know and, immediately, another X-rated image raised its ugly head, rattling Luke with the power this female had to both arouse and
