If only she hadn’t dropped her keys onto the wooden floorboards.
His head lifted abruptly at the clattering sound, giving her a wry look before bending down to pick them up. Vivienne clenched the offending hands as she tried to regain control over herself. Her face felt hot and her whole body was in danger of imminent meltdown. She could not speak. Could hardly think. After straightening, he took a closer look at her and smiled a smile which she couldn’t fathom. Was it amusement curving his lips? Or some strange kind of satisfaction?
‘I’ll lock up for you,’ he said.
She just stared at him, her head slowly clearing from the fog of passion which had been clouding her normally sharp brain. Not for the first time, she wondered why Jack aroused her so easily to a level of lust which was both overpowering and overwhelming. One kiss and she was his again. Instantly. Being his beck-and-call girl was never going to present a problem. Because she wanted to do everything with him, and for him.
Sexually speaking, that was. She especially liked it when he was masterful with her. When he was demanding. When he took without asking. How strange was that? She’d always hated domineering, arrogant men. Yet she didn’t hate Jack. If truth be told, she liked him even more than she’d admitted to Marion. She was also finding him more handsome than she ever had before.
Of course, he was dressed more smartly than usual tonight in a dark grey suit, white shirt and a blue tie the colour of his eyes. A man was always improved when wearing a suit, she thought, especially suits as well-fitting as Jack’s. It gave him an air of urbane sophistication which she hadn’t seen in him before. She’d always thought of Jack as a rough diamond; he was anything but rough in that extremely elegant suit.
He turned and caught her staring at him.
But he didn’t say anything, just handed her the keys and took her arm, leading her outside.
It was cooler than she’d expected after the warmth of the day. Vivienne ground to a halt before they reached the pavement.
‘I think I should go back and get a jacket,’ she told Jack. Her dress did have three-quarter sleeves but the material was thin.
‘Absolutely not,’ he replied firmly. ‘No covering up for you tonight, beautiful.’
Vivienne winced. ‘Would you mind not calling me that? I really don’t like it.’
His facial muscles tightened. ‘What shall I call you, then? Sweetheart? Honey? Surely not darling? That doesn’t seem to befit a mistress.’
Vivienne’s hand clutched her purse tightly within angry fingers. ‘Why are you acting like a jerk all of a sudden?’ she threw at him.
He glared at her for a moment, then sighed, his face softening. ‘You’re right. I am acting like a jerk. Blame it on male ego. I’m still smarting over your not wanting to be my girlfriend for real.’
Vivienne was tempted to give in and say, okay, I’ll be your girlfriend for real. Because she didn’t like to think he was angry with her. But she seriously didn’t want to do that. She knew she would regret it afterwards if she gave in.
‘You seemed happy with our arrangement when you dropped me off last night,’ she reminded him tautly. ‘Besides, I thought a strictly sexual relationship would be right up your alley.’
‘So did I.’
‘Then what’s your problem?’
Yeah, Jack, what’s your problem? For pity’s sake, get a grip.
He shrugged. ‘No real problem. But perhaps you could compromise a little and go out with me occasionally. On a proper date, that is.’
‘That’s what I’m doing tonight, isn’t it?’
He laughed. ‘You and I both know that tonight’s dinner is just foreplay, not a date. Hell, I took one look at you in that dress and instantly decided to reduce the meal to only one course. You’re going to be my dessert, gorgeous. Can I call you that—gorgeous?’
‘If you must,’ she said, struggling to keep her own desire in check.
‘Good. So let’s stop this useless banter and be on our way. The quicker we get there and eat, the quicker we can leave.’
* * *
But it didn’t turn out quite that way. Shortly after they were shown to a table in the small Italian restaurant Jack had booked in nearby St Leonards, his phone pinged.
‘Sorry,’ he said as he whipped the infernal thing out of his pocket. ‘Have to have a quick look to see. It could be family.’
As much as Vivienne admired Jack’s devotion to his family, she wished he’d left his phone at home—like she had. But she supposed that was being irrational. And more like a girlfriend’s thinking than a mistress’s. A mistress would not object to her wealthy lover doing anything at all, even answering text messages when he was at dinner with her.
Jack’s frown as he read the message aroused Vivienne’s curiosity.
‘Something wrong?’ she prompted.
He put the phone back in his pocket. ‘No. Not really. It was an invite to an engagement party next week.’
‘Oh? Who’s getting married? Family or friends?’
‘Neither. It’s the daughter of a business acquaintance. A very wealthy business acquaintance.’
‘So you’re probably wise to attend.’
‘I’m not sure that would be wise. I might punch out the groom-to-be.’
Vivienne was taken aback. ‘Why on earth would you do that?’
His smile was very droll. ‘His name is Daryl.’
The waiter bringing the bottle of wine Jack had ordered stopped Vivienne from saying or doing anything at that precise moment that she would regret. It also gave her a minute or two to gather herself, and her thoughts.
It was only natural, she accepted once she could think properly, that Frank Ellison would invite Jack to Courtney’s engagement party. Jack had, after all, built Frank’s harbourside mansion, the same one she had decorated last year. Had she received an invitation too? Vivienne wondered. She doubted it. As much as Frank might be ignorant of Daryl’s very recent engagement to another woman, Courtney certainly wasn’t. Or was she? Maybe the girl didn’t know he’d been engaged when they’d started seeing each other.
Vivienne suppressed a sigh. She didn’t want to think about Daryl any more, or the new life he’d made for himself with Courtney Ellison. She’d moved on and, although his actions had hurt her badly, she was feeling better now. Much, much better.
By the time the waiter poured the wine, took their dinner orders and departed, Vivienne knew what she had to do.
First she lifted her glass of chilled Chardonnay to her lips and took a deep swallow. Then she locked eyes with Jack over the rim and said in steely tones, ‘I presume your invitation says “and partner”?’
Jack
