Mistresses: Passionate Revenge. Trish Morey
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the rim of his glass as he took a sip of the sparkling wine, his lips curled, his eyes charged with a heat that was soon washing through her, closely followed by a crashing wave of fear that sucked the air from her lungs.
He could be a panther sitting there, rather than a man, a big dark cat watching its next meal, waiting. She could even imagine the lazy flick of his tail as he pretended there was no rush…
Oh, God, what was she even doing here? She was an imposter, a charlatan. She’d had sex once in her life and it had been lousy. And here she was, contracted to play the role of this man’s mistress for an entire month. Never had she been so unqualified for a position. Never so unprepared.
‘You don’t like the wine?’
Condensation misted the glass between her fingers. ‘I’m not very thirsty. Maybe with lunch. How long is the flight?’ She grasped onto anything that might steer the conversation, and her thoughts, into safer territory.
‘Four hours, give or take. Unfortunately after our late departure we will have missed the sunset, said to be the most beautiful in all of Greece. You haven’t been to Greece before?’
There was that sunset thing again. Maybe that was one thing Kurt hadn’t lied about, and now she’d have the chance to experience Santorini’s sunset for herself. The bright side, she thought as she shook her head in answer to Andreas’ question, definitely a bright side.
‘Ah. Then you are in for a treat. I promise you will love Santorini.’
His enthusiasm was infectious and she found an answering smile with no hesitation. ‘I look forward to it.’
The jet came to a brief halt at the end of the runway before the engines powered up and the plane moved off. Again Cleo was struck by how different this felt from the hulking jumbo jet that had seemed to take for ever to get going, panels vibrating and overhead lockers rattling as it lumbered along the runway before somehow managing to haul itself up into the air. This jet was small and powerful and accelerated as if it had been fired from a gun.
She held onto her stomach but there was none of the lurching motion that had made her feel queasy in the seven four seven. Instead the ground fell sharply away as the plane pierced the air like an arrow, and Cleo watched the rain-washed view in fascination until cloud cover swallowed both it and the plane. A few moments later they had punched their way through and bright sunshine poured through the large portholes, filling the cabin with light.
‘I have some work I must attend to,’ Andreas told her, retrieving his briefcase. ‘But I have a copy of our contract for you to look over and sign. Will you be comfortable?’
Much more comfortable than if you didn’t have work to do. The traitorous thought was as sudden as it was true. When he looked at her in that heated way that he did, it was impossible to think straight. And after the intensive morning she’d had, she could do with a few hours of quiet time curled up in a good book, or a good contract for that matter. ‘I’ll be fine,’ she said a little uncertainly, taking the papers he offered.
He watched her a while, trying to search behind her eyes for what she was really thinking, but he found no hint of machination. Instead her clear blue eyes held without shifting or looking away. He nodded then, turning back to his report, before she might read too much into his gaze.
A woman who didn’t need constant pandering, who didn’t sulk and was content to let him work when he needed to? She was definitely a rarity. A pity about her ‘no sex’ demands. If she were any good in bed, she’d be just about perfect.
THE cloud cover cleared after lunch when they were somewhere over the south of France, revealing a coastline that was staggeringly beautiful even from this height, the world below like a rich tapestry of colour and texture of sea and land and mountains complete with their frosting of snow. Cleo watched the colours change below as they sped towards the night, the shadow moving over the earth as night claimed more and more for its own.
The contract had taken no time at all to deal with, the terms reasonably straightforward, even to her unbusinesslike brain. One month of partnering Andreas in exchange for one million Australian dollars and an all-expenses first-class fare home. Simple really, if she didn’t let herself think about whom she was contracting with. No sex seemed such a crystal clear notion until she looked at him and felt that increasingly familiar tingle in her flesh, a tingle that felt too much like longing.
So she wouldn’t look at him. Instead she pushed back in the wide armchair that felt more like a bed, shucking off her shoes and tucking her legs beneath her. Once in Greece she’d be four hours closer to home, a four-hour head start when she left in a month to return to Kangaroo Crossing. She smiled when she thought about seeing her mum and her nanna again, and her rough-and-tumble half-brothers who were happiest in their own company and probably hadn’t even realised she’d gone yet. She’d send them a postcard the first chance she got, let them all know she was a few hours closer to coming home…
The next thing she knew, she was waking up with a start, struggling to sit up with her chair reclining to near horizontal, a weightless but snug mohair rug covering her.
‘You’re back with us, then,’ Andreas said, putting away his laptop. ‘We’ll be landing soon.’
She put a hand to her hair, and then to her eyes, worried she’d just undone all the good work of the morning. ‘I must have drifted off.’ She looked outside her window but it was inky blackness outside, clusters of lights visible way down below, but, more importantly, no reflection to assure her she wasn’t wearing panda eyes. Or, worse still, just the one.
‘You look good.’
She blinked and turned slowly, not sure she’d heard right or that he was even talking to her.
He was stashing his briefcase away in the compartment alongside his knees, and for a moment she thought she must have misheard or been mistaken. Until…‘If that’s what you were worried about.’ Now he did turn, and once again she was staggered by the intensity of his gaze and the power he had to skewer her with just one glance. ‘Stunning, in fact. I don’t suppose I told you that before.’
Nobody had ever told her that before. Let alone a man whose five o’clock shadow only served to increase his eye appeal. Along with his white shirtsleeves rolled up and the dark V of skin at his unbuttoned neck, he looked more like a pirate now than a property magnate. She licked her lips. Boy, she could do with a drink. ‘Um. Thank you.’ She wanted to believe the butterflies in her stomach were all to do with the fact the pilot had chosen that second to commence his descent, but she’d be lying to herself. For the hungry look she’d seen in his eyes when she’d got his attention in the car was back again, and that had been enough to start the fluttering sensation, enough to switch on the slow burn inside her.
Nobody had ever called her anything approximating stunning before. Nobody. Even her own mother had never got beyond cute. Hearing Andreas say it made it all the more real.
And made him all the more dangerous.
She injected a lightness into her voice that was at odds with the pounding of her heart. Why let him know how much he affected her? That was never part of the deal. ‘Well, it’s good to know all this morning’s work didn’t go to waste.’
She unclipped her seat belt and stood, heading for the bathroom, and she was halfway to escape when the ground went from under Cleo’s feet, her stomach suddenly in her mouth. With Cleo thrown offbalance, it took only a jerk of Andreas’ hand to steer her towards him. She landed in his lap a moment later, appalled that he’d borne the brunt of her weight as she’d collided against him.
‘This is no joking matter,’ he warned, showing no discomfiture for her sudden landing, indeed, giving every impression that he welcomed it as he nestled her deeper into his lap. ‘This is serious.’
She