The Millionaire's Mistress. Miranda Lee
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Not that he was going to try to coerce or corrupt the girl, Marcus reassured himself as he stuffed the fob watch back into its pocket and strode from the room. Nothing—not even the most desirable female in the world—would induce him to stoop to such low behaviour.
The possibility that the incredibly desirable Justine Montgomery might try to coerce or corrupt him had yet to occur to Marcus Osborne.
Justine glanced at her watch as she stepped from the lift. Five to ten.
Scooping in a steadying breath, she straightened her shoulders and walked with her head held high to the large reception desk straight ahead. Not normally a nervous girl, she had to admit to wild flutterings in her stomach that morning. It would have been so easy to turn and flee. But fleeing was out of the question. Anyone with a brain in their heads could see her mother might have another breakdown if she lost her home on top of everything else. Justine had listened to the poor love cry herself to sleep last night, the awful sounds reaffirming her determination to get this darned loan if it was the last thing she did.
The pretty brunette behind the desk stopped tapping on her PC and glanced up as Justine approached.
‘May I help you?’ she asked politely.
‘I’m Justine Montgomery. I have a ten o’clock appointment with Mr Hampton.’
‘Oh, yes, Miss Montgomery. Wade’s away from his desk at the moment, but I know he’s somewhere in the building. I’m sure he’ll be with you in a moment. I’ll take you along to his office and you can wait for him there.’
Mr Hampton’s office was minute, more of a walled cubicle than a real office. Justine settled herself in the single chair which faced the less than impressive desk to await the loans officer’s arrival. She recrossed her legs several times, none of the positions finding favour. Her long stockingless legs still felt awfully overexposed. She tried sitting with her knees pressed primly together but knew that looked ridiculous.
Steeling her nerves, she dropped the handbag she’d been clutching in her lap down by the legs of the chair and crossed her legs one last time, steadfastly ignoring the way the skirt rode up dangerously high. Another glance at her watch told her it was one minute past ten.
Two minutes later, she heard firm footsteps coming down the tiled corridor. She twisted her head round just as a man strode in and closed the door behind him.
Justine blinked, trying not to look as taken aback as she was. But surely this couldn’t be Wade Hampton!
For starters, Justine had been expecting someone much younger, not a man in his mid-thirties! Trudy’s taste in men usually ran to the toy-boy type, with pretty-boy looks, longish hair and wickedly dancing eyes, trendy dressers who smiled at the drop of a hat and oozed a type of cheeky sex appeal.
Justine could not help but stare as this man stalked into the room, his face seemingly set in concrete. No smile of greeting softened that hard mouth, or those deeply set black eyes.
Admittedly he was a handsome devil, with a strikingly sculptured face, a sensually shaped mouth and deeply set dark eyes which sent shivers down her spine. But that black pin-striped suit, though impressively tailored, was anything but trendy, and his ruthlessly cut black hair was plastered back like Michael Douglas in that movie Wall Street.
He looked about as warm and as approachable as a Kremlin advisor on nuclear waste, hardly the type to be susceptible to flirting or flattery, or a short, tight lime-green dress!
‘Good morning, Miss Montgomery,’ he said brusquely, his handsome face coldly unreadable. ‘Sorry to keep you waiting.’
He moved around behind his desk and sat down, his dark eyes immediately dropping to scan the application form he’d carried in with him. It was a full minute before he glanced up at her.
‘So how may I help you, Miss Montgomery?’ he asked quite curtly.
The dean had spoken to her in a similarly cool fashion when she’d gone to him for permission to repeat the year. Yet he’d warmed to her soon enough once she smiled at him.
Justine found that same smile, flashing it for all its worth at the loans officer. ‘I have a business proposition to put to your bank, Mr Hampton. I think it’s a very good proposition and one which would benefit both of us.’
Marcus just sat there for a long moment, frozen to the chair.
She thought he was Wade Hampton.
Understandable, considering. He hadn’t enlightened her otherwise, although he’d meant to, before the sight of those incredible legs had distracted him.
His eyes washed over her more thoroughly, taking in the provocative little green dress, the highly glossed mouth, the beautiful but overbright eyes. She was either nervous, or excited. Or both.
Marcus’s suspicions were instantly aroused. Did Miss Montgomery know of Wade Hampton’s reputation for being a loans officer of easy virtue? Had she come here today armed with that knowledge, ready and willing to barter her delectable young body in exchange for a business loan of some kind? Was that what she meant when she said her proposition could benefit both of them?
The possibility gave a serious push to his already teetering conscience. But, dear God, she was breathtakingly beautiful, even more when she smiled.
Beautiful but bad, came the silent reminder.
Well, he didn’t know that for sure, did he? Not yet. And, if he were honest, he wouldn’t mind so much if she was bad. Not now, at this very moment, with his loins aching. Who knew what she might do if she’d come here ready and willing to be really bad? The various scenarios such thinking evoked did little for his already painful arousal.
Marcus stared at the object of his darkest desires for a few more moments before deciding not to tell her who he was. He settled back as best he could in Hampton’s narrow chair and waited for her to put her foot further into her pretty mouth.
‘Is that so?’ he said, steepling his fingers across his chest and trying not to eat her up too much with his eyes. But it was difficult not to wonder just how far she would go if he dangled the right carrot in front of those full sensual lips of hers.
He had to clear his throat before going on, not to mention his mind. Damn, but the girl was a temptation all right. If the devil wanted to send someone to corrupt him, he could not have chosen anyone more perfect.
‘Perhaps if you could outline your proposition to me,’ he said, ‘I would be better able to judge its benefit to both of us.’
Justine heard the sardonic edge in his voice, and hesitated. He knew—knew she was going to flirt with him, knew she was going to subtly offer herself as part of the loan package. He was sitting there, waiting like a big black spider for her to walk into his web.
Pride demanded she jump up straight away and stalk out of there.
But pride was not going to get her a loan. It would be cold comfort when she went home and explained to her mother that the house would have to be sold. Pride would not be of much value to Justine when they carted her mother off to some sanitarium or other.
Practicality won over pride. As did pragmatism. Who cared what he thought of her? The man was a creep. A user and abuser of women.
Well, it’s you who’s going to be used this time, buster, Justine thought. She flashed another winning smile at him, then launched into an explanation of her present financial situation.
Hampton frowned when she told him of her father’s death and subsequent debts, the frown deepening when she revealed the other bank’s intention to sell up the house and recoup their losses.
‘Can they do that?’ she asked abruptly.
‘They’re within their legal rights. Will the value of the house cover the entire debt?’
‘Oh, easily. It’s worth a million at least.’
‘Mmm.’