His After-Hours Mistress. Amanda Browning

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His After-Hours Mistress - Amanda Browning Mills & Boon Modern

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love life ceases to be private when you live it so publicly. Why, scarcely a day goes by when you aren’t photographed with one woman or another hanging on your arm! Your little black book must be bursting at the seams by now,’ she protested scornfully.

      Roarke steepled his fingers and looked at her over them. ‘If I had one, which I don’t.’

      ‘No little black book? I don’t believe it. Your sort of man always has one!’

      ‘And just what sort of man is that?’

      Ginny waved a hand airily. ‘The sort who changes his woman as often as he changes his clothes.’

      He tapped his thumbs together broodingly. ‘I suppose a denial is out of the question?’

      She shook her head. ‘Hard to accept when I’ve seen the results of your handiwork.’

      Roarke rubbed a finger down the bridge of his nose, then glanced at her sardonically. ‘You disapprove of everything about me, don’t you?’

      ‘Not everything, just your treatment of women.’

      ‘You make me sound like some sort of playboy.’

      ‘Your affairs are well catalogued in print,’ she reminded him.

      He clucked his tongue at her. ‘The women you see me photographed with are, for the most part, old friends. I’m often invited to events where I require a partner, and I’d rather take a woman I know than find myself seated next to a stranger. We spend an enjoyable evening together, and then I take her home. End of story.’

      Ginny looked sceptical. ‘You can’t mean to tell me all your dates end so tamely,’ she scoffed, and he grinned wolfishly.

      ‘Not at all, but that’s my business, not yours.’

      She couldn’t argue with him there. She was walking a fine line as it was. However, there was one thing she was curious about. ‘Haven’t you ever considered finding one woman and sticking to her? Haven’t you ever been in love?’

      That brought a mocking laugh from him. ‘No, and I don’t ever expect to be. In my experience, happy ever after is just a fairy tale, sweetheart,’ he pronounced and she blinked, genuinely surprised.

      ‘You don’t believe in love?’

      ‘What most people fall into is lust, though they prefer to give it the name love because it sounds better.’ Seeing her frown, Roarke leant forward across the desk. ‘I respect women for who and what they are. I enjoy them, but I don’t make promises I can’t keep, and I refuse to dress up the relationship as anything more than what it is.’

      Ginny supposed she had to think well of him for that, but it was strange to her to hear him speak that way about love. Despite her own experiences, she still believed in love. She had just made the wrong choice, that was all. This time she wasn’t about to let herself be blinded by passion into thinking love existed. Daniel was everything she wanted in a man, and she was sure that her liking for him would grow into love in the fullness of time.

      ‘Don’t you intend to get married and have children?’ she couldn’t help but ask curiously.

      Sitting back again, Roarke shrugged. ‘Sure, one day, but love will have nothing to do with it.’

      ‘Your wife might disagree.’

      ‘The woman I marry will know that she has my respect and loyalty. If and when I make a vow, I’ll never break it. I only intend to get married once.’

      ‘Sounds to me like you’ve had a nasty experience. What caused you to get so disenchanted with marriage?’

      ‘Over-familiarity. My father has been married four times and my mother is currently on her third husband. Both swore it was love each time, but as soon as the passion faded, they headed for the divorce courts. I have brothers and sisters dotted around the globe from their various forays into the wedded state.’

      Not exactly good role models, she agreed. ‘It doesn’t have to be that way for you.’

      He shrugged. ‘It isn’t going to be. I intend to honour my vows—when I make them.’

      ‘I’m pleased to hear it, but have you heard the one about leopards not changing their spots?’ she gibed.

      Roarke smiled. ‘There’s always an exception to the rule, sweetheart.’

      ‘True, but I haven’t seen any flying pigs recently,’ Ginny mocked.

      He gave her a long look for that, to which she smiled sweetly and he grunted, ‘I should have fired you months ago. Lord knows why I didn’t.’

      ‘Because it isn’t in your power to do so. Your grandfather hired me, and only he can fire me,’ she told him confidently, only to see him give a crocodile smile.

      Tugging at the knot of his tie, he pulled it free and loosened the buttons of his shirt. ‘On the contrary. I could fire you at a moment’s notice. However, you’re damn good at your job. You’ve a good eye for colour and style, and we’ve heard nothing but acclaim for what you’ve done so far.’

      His praise gave her a warm glow inside, though she didn’t let him know it. ‘Would this be a good time to ask for a rise?’ she asked, tongue-in-cheek, and he grinned appreciatively.

      ‘You’d probably get it, too. A good worker is worthy of her hire.’

      Ginny wasn’t greedy. She had had a rise only a short while ago. The company rewarded its workers for their efforts without prompting, and she had received her share. That was enough for her. ‘Don’t worry, I have no intention of taking you up on that. So, what did the poor wastebasket do to incur your wrath?’

      Reminded of what had happened earlier, Roarke let his expression become rueful. ‘It grinned at me.’

      Vastly amused, Ginny smiled. ‘Grinned at you?’

      ‘Knowingly,’ Roarke confirmed.

      ‘Ah,’ she nodded wisely, knowing the feeling. ‘Lunch was not a success.’

      His laugh was scornful. ‘To put it mildly. Which is why I need your help.’

      Her mind was rioting with questions. Ginny reined them in. ‘Things must be bad if you need my help.’

      ‘You have no idea!’

      Ginny waited for more, but when none came she frowned. ‘Are you going to tell me, or is it a game of twenty questions?’

      Roarke took a deep breath and swung his chair round so that he was facing her. ‘My sister’s getting married at the weekend.’

      Whilst interesting, it was not quite what she was expecting. ‘I’m sure I’m pleased for her, but what’s that got to do with me?’

      His eyes flashed sparks at her interruption. ‘I was coming to that. I’ve been invited.’

      It occurred to Ginny that he was uneasy about asking her for whatever it was, and

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