Sandra Field - The Mistress Deal

She said tartly, “If Wallace is looking down on me from heaven, I hope he appreciates what I’m doing for him.”

“People who cheat and lie don’t go to heaven.” Reece opened the door. “Goodbye.”

They were in full view of his secretary. “Then I guess you won’t go there, either,” Lauren said, reaching up and kissing him on both cheeks. “Goodbye, darling,” she added in a carrying voice. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Pivoting, she smiled at the secretary. “I’ll see myself out,” she said, and walked toward the elevator. The slit in her skirt, she knew, showed her legs rather admirably. To her great satisfaction she heard Reece Callahan’s door snap shut with more force than was required.

At least she’d achieved that much.

Had she ever in her life conceived such an overwhelming dislike for a man? Even Edward, her mother’s third husband, liked dogs and rhododendrons, and laughed loudly at his own jokes. Reece Callahan wouldn’t know how to laugh.

Cold. Hard. Manipulative.

She was going to read both documents very carefully before she signed anything.

CHARLOTTE BOND, better known as Charlie, said incredulously, “You agreed to do what?”

“You heard,” Lauren said. “I agreed to act as Reece Callahan’s mistress, in public only, for the space of one week. Well, eight days. That’s all. It’s no big deal.”

“Lauren, I dated Reece. Twice. He plays major league. And he’s got a hole where his heart’s supposed to be.”

“So why did you date him twice?”

A rueful grin lit up Charlie’s piquant face. “I couldn’t believe that a guy with those rugged, damn-your-eyes kind of good looks could really be as cold as the proverbial glacier.”

“You saw him as a challenge.”

“I guess so.” Charlie gave a snort of self-derision. “What a joke. Although we did have a few things in common.”

Charlie was a top-notch tax consultant, whose logical brain was the antithesis of Lauren’s: they had a friendship of opposites that had survived Charlie’s move from New York to Canada’s west coast last summer. “Don’t you see?” Lauren said equably. “It’s because he’s such a cold fish that I feel quite safe taking this on. No risk Reece Callahan’s going to lose his head over me. We’ll act as lovers in public, go our separate ways in private, and Wallace’s good name will be safe. Simple.”

Charlie grimaced. “Trouble is, I feel responsible. If I hadn’t brought up Wallace’s name quite innocently to Reece, in connection with that software company Wallace was involved with, Reece wouldn’t have mentioned I should keep my ear to the ground for some very interesting revelations about Wallace. None of which were to Wallace’s credit. As soon as he said that, all my alarm bells went off and that’s when I phoned you.”

“You and I were due for a visit anyway,” Lauren said comfortingly. “And I’m so glad I’ve finally made it to the west coast. Oh, Charlie, it’s wonderful to have a bit of money to spend! To be able to get on a plane and fly here and not have to worry about the cost. For so many years I’ve been rock-bottom broke, having to count every cent I spent.”

But Charlie was still frowning. “Just so long as you don’t get hurt.”

“By Reece Callahan?” Lauren made a very rude noise. “Not a chance. Did I tell you he bought those two bronze pieces as an investment? They’re two of my best works, and yet they’re owned by a man who doesn’t give a damn about what they say—his only concern is that they increase in value. And you’re worried I might fall for him? Huh. Pigs might fly.”

Charlie sighed. “It’s an awful waste. He’s got a great body.”

“To sculpt, yes. To go to bed with? No, ma’am. Anyway, I’m off sex, have been for years.”

Charlie took a big gulp of her Chardonnay, her face still troubled. “You’re absolutely certain of Wallace’s innocence?”

“Of course I am!”

“You did tell me once that your inheritance from him was less than you’d expected.”

“That’s true enough. And his mother’s jewels that he’d promised me, they never did turn up. But, Charlie, everyone can have setbacks on the financial markets, you know that from your own work. It doesn’t mean the person’s committed fraud.”

“He never confided in you?”

Lauren’s brow crinkled in thought. “We didn’t talk about stuff like that. Serious stuff.” Her voice wobbled. “He was such fun, always laughing or singing pop songs at the top of his lungs—I miss him so much.”

“Mmm…” Charlie ran her fingers through her tousled blond curls. “Just make sure you look after yourself as far as Reece is concerned. And read all the fine print on these documents you’re going to sign.”

“I will.” Lauren grinned at her friend.

“Let’s go out for supper, I don’t feel like cooking. There’s a divine Czech restaurant just down the road.”

“And neither of us will mention Reece Callahan’s name again. Okay?”

“Okay,” said Charlie. Nor did they.

Promptly at three o’clock the next afternoon, Lauren presented herself to Reece’s secretary. The October day had turned unexpectedly warm; her dress was a chic linen sheath in deep blue with long sleeves. Gold hoops that Wallace had given her for her eighteenth birthday swung at her lobes, and she’d pulled her hair back with a gold clip. Her makeup was dramatic, that and her dress making her eyes look almost indigo.

The secretary said pleasantly, “Mr. Callahan shouldn’t be too long, Miss Courtney—but he is running a little behind schedule.”

So she was to be kept waiting like a common supplicant? Like a patient at the dentist’s? Which was just how she felt: all her nerves on edge, dread like a lump in the pit of her stomach. Lauren said, “Oh, I’m sure he doesn’t mean to keep me waiting, Miss Riley. I’ll go straight in.”

“I don’t think—”

But Lauren was already opening Reece’s door. He was seated in front of his computer screen and looked up in annoyance. She said with warm intimacy, “Hello, darling—I knew you wouldn’t want me to sit outside…how are you?” Then, as she closed the door, she gave him a wicked grin, her voice going back to normal. “I should tell you that at the age of thirteen I planned to become the second Sarah Bernhardt. I could get to enjoy this.”

He said curtly, “The first thing you’d better learn is never to interrupt me when I’m working.”

“But, dearest,” she cooed, batting her artfully mascaraed lashes, “I’m your heart’s delight.”

For a split second Lauren thought she caught a flash of emotion deep in Reece’s eyes. But then it was gone. If indeed it had existed. He said sharply, “I mean it, Lauren.”

“What a dull life you must lead.”

He surged to his feet. He’d discarded his jacket and tie; his shirt, open at the throat, revealed a tangle of dark hair. “Let’s get something straight,” he said with dangerous softness. “I’m the one with the evidence about Wallace. So I get to call the shots.”

Her chin lifted mutinously. “I don’t like being told what to do.”

“Then you’d better learn fast.”

“I think you’re forgetting something, Reece—this is a reciprocal deal. You’ve got something I want and I’ve got something you want. So both of us get to call the shots.”

“There can’t be two bosses—that’s a basic corporate rule.”

“We’re not talking corporations, we’re talking love at first sight. Passion, adoration and lust.” She gave him a complacent smile. “The rules are different.”

“Certainly that’s your area of expertise.”

She flushed. “Let’s get something else straight. Right now. You can quit throwing my reputation in my face.”