Sara Craven - To Claim His Mistress

It seemed, of course, as if Thursday would never come. During the days, Cat was positive and dynamic, throwing herself into her work with renewed energy, her expectations carrying her along. But her nights were very different. She slept fitfully, her dreams wild and disturbing with an undercurrent of sensuality that often woke her, her body on fire, and a moan of sheer yearning on her lips.

‘Mignonette, eh?’ said Dorita, the company’s restaurant guru, responding to Cat’s studiedly casual query. She whistled. ‘It must be a heavy date, Cat, because it’s the top place for couples right now.’ She observed Cat’s flushed face with benevolent interest. ‘Going there tonight?’

Cat shook her head. ‘Tomorrow.’

Tonight, she thought ruefully, was her twosome with her mother at the Savoy—something she would have happily foregone.

But Vanessa greeted her with a radiant smile and champagne cocktails.

‘Darling.’ She kissed Cat on both cheeks, then stood back to scrutinise her plain grey shift dress with its matching jacket. She nodded. ‘You look wonderful,’ she approved.

‘And so do you,’ Cat returned with total sincerity, returning her embrace. Her mother seemed to have shed years since the weekend. The almost palpable tensions had disappeared, and she had that magical look of being lit with inner happiness that had been missing for so long.

If this was Gil’s doing then Cat could only be grateful, in spite of her reservations about him.

Or did she simply recognise it because she shared it?

‘I went down to see Susan yesterday,’ Vanessa said when they were seated at their table, with their first course of seafood ravioli in front of them. ‘She’s planning to sell the house and move to France when everything’s settled.’

Cat put down her fork, her eyes widening. ‘She’s really divorcing Uncle Robert? That’s rather quick, isn’t it?’

Vanessa shrugged. ‘She says that when it’s over, it’s over, and she doesn’t want to waste a moment of the rest of her life. She taught French before her marriage, and has always wanted a place there, only Robert wouldn’t consider it.’

Cat shook her head. ‘I had no idea.’

‘Obviously there’s more than one actress in the family,’ Vanessa said drily, and applied herself to her food.

‘But won’t she be lonely?’ Cat persisted.

‘I wouldn’t think so for a minute,’ her mother said with a touch of asperity. ‘She’s still a very attractive woman. Once she’s got Robert out of her system I can see her having a whale of a time.’

Cat raised her eyebrows. ‘With you, no doubt, acting as her mentor?’ she suggested.

Vanessa laughed. ‘Not I, darling. At long last I’m planning to settle down for good, and I refuse to be distracted from that.’ She gave Cat a long look. ‘Well—I didn’t expect you to turn cartwheels in the Savoy, but I thought you’d be a little pleased to hear I was aiming for respectability.’

With Gil , Cat thought, aghast. With a muscle-bound toyboy? Oh, God, is this what she wants to tell me? Why she brought me here tonight for a girlie chat? And I was scared she just wanted to have another go about my father .

She felt infinitely depressed, but managed to summon a smile. ‘If that’s really what you want,’ she said quietly, ‘I wish you every happiness.’

Vanessa stretched a manicured hand across the table and laid it on Cat’s. ‘And I wish the same for you, dearest.’ Her voice was oddly gentle. She paused. ‘Just don’t take as long as I’ve done to find it.’

Cat looked down at her plate. ‘I’m perfectly content with my life, Ma.’ And in twenty-four hours’ time I could be on the edge of bliss , she added, silently and exultantly.

But less than twenty-four hours later much of her exhilaration had evaporated as she searched despairingly through her wardrobe, trying to find something which would look good without seeming as if she was trying too hard.

Eventually she decided on a cream georgette skirt, cut on the bias, with a matching jersey top, short-sleeved and round-necked, and a plain jacket the colour of sapphire. She put gold studs in her ears, and a tiny sapphire pendant in the shape of a star nestled at the base of her throat. She wore her favourite pale rose lipstick, and her nails were varnished in a similar shade.

She drew a deep breath as she looked at herself in the bedroom mirror.

‘You’ll do,’ she said aloud.

It would have been far more cool to arrive late, she knew, but her taxi delivered her at Mignonette punctual to the second.

She paid off the driver and walked slowly into the restaurant.

She saw him at once, standing at the bar with a drink in his hand, and this time her eyes did not deceive her. He was wearing casual dark grey pants, and an open necked shirt that was almost silver. His jacket was slung across one shoulder. He was talking to the barman, and not looking at the door, so she could feast her eyes on him as greedily as she wished.

For a moment she indulged herself to the hilt, then started towards him, her stomach churning and a tight knot of excitement in her chest.

‘Cat—you came.’ A man’s voice intruded into her happy dream. Someone stood blocking her way. ‘I was so afraid you’d turn me down.’

Dazed, Cat focused on him, her brows snapping together as recognition followed.

Oh, God, she thought. It’s Tony, the best man.

‘This is just so great.’ He was smiling happily, oblivious to her sudden pallor as shock and disappointment kicked in. ‘Have you been here before? One of the guys at work recommended it. Our table’s ready, so we may as well go in,’ he added eagerly. ‘We can have a drink while we’re ordering. Better than standing at the bar.’

But then, anything was better than standing at this bar .

‘Yes.’ It didn’t even sound like her voice. ‘Yes, of course.’

As she followed him, putting one foot somehow in front of the other, like a mechanical doll, she risked one swift glance at Liam.

He had turned, probably to see what all the excitement was about, as Tony had not lowered his voice. The world shrank suddenly to enclose them in some echoing void, and their eyes met in one stunned, coruscating flash.

I thought it was you. She wanted to shout the words aloud in her despair. It should have been you.

But she said nothing, making herself look straight ahead, her silence drowning Tony’s chatter.

Then they were moving under the archway into the restaurant, but Cat could still feel Liam’s gaze burning into her back every step of the way, until, at last, she was safely out of his range of vision.

CHAPTER SIX

‘DID you like the flowers?’ asked Tony.

Cat, who’d been sitting gazing unseeingly at the menu, started. ‘Thank you—they were amazing.’ She thought of the long stiff stalks, and the still tightly furled, scentless crimson buds. ‘But why didn’t you sign the card?’

‘Cheryl was always complaining I wasn’t very romantic.’ He spoke defensively. ‘I thought I’d try a touch of mystery—and it worked.’ He smiled at her, flushing slightly. ‘Because here you are.’

‘Indeed I am.’ And wishing that she could be anywhere else in the world, she thought wretchedly.

Oh, God, she whispered inwardly. How can this be happening to me? How could I have jumped to the conclusion that the flowers had to be from Liam? And the message.

Well, wishful thinking was the short answer to that. She’d wanted it so badly to be him that she’d suspended rational thought. Ignored the bitter rancour of their parting. And poor Tony, of course, had simply passed through her consciousness without touching the edges. She hadn’t given him a single thought, or anyone else either. Had never doubted her own conviction for a moment.