Angela Devine - Mistress For Hire

‘I think I’ll have the seafood brochettes with wild rice and salad,’ she announced. ‘And perhaps the chocolate mousse cake and coffee to follow, if you don’t mind. I didn’t have any dinner tonight.’

‘Be my guest,’ Matt shrugged. ‘I think I’ll have the grilled lobster, myself. Would you like some champagne to drink with it?’

‘Yes, please,’ agreed Lisa. Once the champagne had been brought and approved, Matt leaned back in his chair and smiled at her. The smile worried Lisa. There was something dangerous about it, as if it was the opening move in a war game.

‘Tell me some more about yourself,’ he invited.

Lisa was just about to embark on this agreeable activity when there was a sudden interruption. A tall, flamboyant-looking man, dressed in a dinner suit of royal blue satin and with long, blond hair pulled back into a ponytail, stopped at her table and uttered a glad cry of recognition.

‘Lisa! I haven’t seen you for ages, darling. When are you going to give up that dreary little boyfriend of yours and come and live with me?’

Lisa gave a gurgle of laughter and returned her friend’s embrace warmly. In spite of Alan’s violently coloured clothes and theatrical gestures, she knew perfectly well that he was devoted to his wife, Vicky, and his two little boys. But this sort of banter was an old habit going back to their student days at art college, and she always enjoyed it.

‘Whenever you say the word, sweetheart,’ she replied. ‘By the way, I thought your sets were magnificent tonight. Alan, have you met Matt Lansdon? Matt, this is Alan, who designed the sets for the production.’

‘How do you do?’ muttered Matt, rising to his feet and extending his hand.

There was a stormy glint in his eyes as he took in every detail of Alan’s unconventional appearance, but the set designer seemed in no way taken aback by this scrutiny. He winked at Lisa and gave her shoulder an affectionate squeeze before he began to thread his way between the tables again.

‘Well, I must be going,’ he said over his shoulder. ‘Nice meeting you, Matt. I envy you your supper partner. Isn’t she the sexiest little moll in town?’

Matt’s face was like thunder as he glared after Alan’s departing back.

‘Are you aware that he’s a married man with two children?’ he hissed when Alan was safely out of earshot.

Lisa smiled tranquilly. She found Matt’s disapproval so exquisitely humorous that she couldn’t bear to spoil the fun by telling him how harmless the friendship really was. Instead she gave him a long, sultry look from under lowered eyelashes and pouted at him.

‘Yes,’ she breathed.

For a moment she thought Matt was going to jump up out of his chair and box her ears, but instead he simply scowled at her.

‘Where did you meet him?’ he asked.

‘Alan? We were at art school together.’

‘Oh, so you really do have some claim to be a genuine artist, do you?’ asked Matt in a surprised voice. ‘I thought…no, never mind.’

Lisa gave him a puzzled frown and then shook her head regretfully.

‘No, I don’t think I can really claim to be a genuine artist,’ she said flatly.

‘But you just said you went to art school.’

‘That doesn’t make me an artist,’ she retorted. ‘Not by my reckoning, at any rate. I have an art school diploma and I’ve sold maybe a dozen reasonably important paintings over the last three years, but only at very moderate prices. I couldn’t possibly live on what I earn from my art, and that’s my definition of an artist. One of these days I will be a genuine artist, if hard work has anything to do with it. In the meantime I support myself in whatever way I can, but I won’t claim to be something I’m not.’

Matt gazed at her thoughtfully and took a sip of his champagne.

‘That’s interesting,’ he said, half to himself. ‘You strike me as being a very ambitious young woman.’

She shrugged. ‘I suppose you could say that.’

‘How old are you now?’ he asked.

‘Twenty-five,’ replied Lisa ruefully. ‘So I’ve been at it long enough to know that it isn’t easy to make a name for yourself as a painter. But one of these days I’ll do it, whatever sacrifices I have to make.’

‘Aren’t you afraid that marriage and children will cramp your style?’ asked Matt.

Since Lisa wasn’t at all sure that she ever wanted to marry, that question didn’t faze her.

‘I have no intention of letting marriage and children cramp my style!’ she replied with a toss of her head.

‘I see,’ said Matt grimly as he speared a piece of lobster with his fork. ‘You’re one of these liberated women, are you?’

There was so much distaste in his tone that Lisa had to hide a grin.

‘Have I said something funny?’ demanded Matt.

‘No. It’s more the way you said it, as if you were asking, “Oh, you’re one of those poisonous snakes, are you? Or one of those deadly spiders? Or one of those white pointer sharks?”’

‘Any of those would be preferable in my view to a liberated woman,’ said Matt disdainfully, picking up his champagne glass again.

Lisa choked. ‘You take my breath away,’ she said.

‘I’m astonished that any man should have the power to do that. You strike me as the sort of woman who would be glib and fluent in any situation whatsoever.’

‘Thank you,’ purred Lisa. ‘I assume that’s a compliment.’

‘It isn’t,’ replied Matt evenly. ‘But we’ll let it pass for the moment. Tell me, have you known Tim long?’

There was something in the way he asked the question that made Lisa feel as if she was in a fencing ring, circling around a far more experienced, agile and deadly opponent. An odd, simmering sense of excitement began to tingle through her as she braced herself for the impending clash of swords. Then she told herself not to be melodramatic. After all, wasn’t this what they had come out for? To discuss Tim’s future like two calm, rational adults? She shrugged and gave Matt a faint smile.

‘About six months,’ she replied. ‘I’ve been living with him for three months of that time.’

A muscle twitched in Matt’s cheek at this revelation, but he continued methodically eating his lobster for a moment before glancing across at her with appraising blue eyes.

‘And what do you think of him?’ he demanded.

Lisa hesitated. There was a lot she wanted to say, but Tim had strictly forbidden her to say most of it. He was morbidly afraid of the sort of angry scene he believed would ensue if his mother and uncle discovered that he was still pursuing his passion for art against their wishes. Left to herself, Lisa would have been perfectly frank with Matt. She would have told him that his nephew showed extraordinary promise as a painter and begged him to let the youth give up his half-hearted study of economics and go to art school full time. Yet Tim had sworn her to secrecy and she did not feel that she could betray his trust. Her misgivings showed in her face.

‘There’s no need to be tactful,’ urged Matt irritably. ‘I want the truth from you. What are your impressions of my nephew’s character?’

Tim’s character! Well, it was easier to be truthful about that than about his ambitions. Tim had never sworn her to secrecy about his character.

‘He’s basically a nice boy,’ she replied in the measured tone of a headmistress giving a character reference. ‘Although he is rather spoilt and he seems to think he can have whatever he wants simply by demanding it.’

‘That’s Sonia’s influence,’ said Matt in an exasperated voice. ‘She’s a very silly woman and she gave in to him too much when he was a child. Still, I suppose it’s not surprising that she spoiled the boy after his father died.’