Maggie Cox - Mistress On Demand

Sophie almost retreated back the way she’d come. Although the room was gracious and elegant in the extreme, the most intimidating, magnetic element in it was Dominic himself. He was the pivot around which all that exceptionally good taste revolved. Even at the not inconsiderable distance between them she couldn’t fail to see that it was his very presence that marked their surroundings more than anything else.

As his emerald eyes examined her with cool detachment and, yes…perhaps arrogance, Sophie told herself she must have lost her mind to have come here. Wasn’t it enough that she’d shamed herself by sleeping with him the first day they had met? Was she really so eager to entertain even more embarrassment?

Feeling her lip quiver slightly with nerves, Sophie clamped down her teeth to quell it. ‘I brought the coat…like I—like I said I would,’ she announced, desperately trying to rescue her rapidly dwindling confidence.

‘So I see,’ he said.

An awkward silence descended. Sophie had just about decided to make her excuses and leave when Dominic put his glass down on the mantelpiece, moved away from the fireplace, and gestured towards the long white couch behind her. ‘Why don’t you sit down? We can discuss the coat later.’

‘There’s nothing to discuss. I don’t want it, so I’m returning it.’

Defiant, and determined not to let him get the better of her in any way, Sophie placed the box down on the glass table in front of her, and did not shy away from the definite irritation in his gaze that he directed back.

‘Nevertheless…I still think you should sit down. What can I get you to drink?’

She didn’t want a drink, and she didn’t want to sit down. All Sophie really wanted to do was leave. But, quelling her almost overwhelming desire to escape, she forced herself to sit down on the couch, and folded her hands neatly in front of her on her lap. Glancing around the beautiful room, with its exquisite antique furniture and imposing art on the walls, she was suddenly seized with uncharacteristic self-consciousness.

She hadn’t dressed up in any way, shape or form for this little interview with Dominic. She’d kept on what she’d worn to school that morning: a red V-necked wool sweater, and a black calf-length skirt with matching low-heeled boots. And she’d deliberately not fussed with her usual minimal make-up either. She hadn’t even reapplied her lipstick. There was no way that she was going to make Dominic imagine for one moment that she’d make any sort of effort with her appearance for his benefit. Sophie wasn’t interested in what the man thought about what she looked like, or even if he thought about it at all. The sooner they discussed what they had to discuss the sooner she could be out of there, and heading home again.

‘I’m fine,’ she replied coolly. ‘I had a cup of coffee before your chauffeur arrived to pick me up.’

‘I didn’t mean coffee. Will you have a Scotch or a brandy? It’s cold outside. It will help warm you up.’

Even as he said the words, Dominic doubted very much whether any amount of alcohol could effect a thaw in Little Miss Frigid sitting over there on his couch. He hadn’t expected this coldness after what had transpired between them on Friday night, and the fact that she clearly took no pleasure in either his company or his beautiful house seriously bothered him. Whatever people said about him, when he invited them into his home he wanted them to feel welcome.

Seeing her again, Dominic realised how much he’d been anticipating her visit. With her vivid blue eyes and her short, dark hair curling becomingly round her small ears, she was even prettier than he’d remembered—despite her frostiness towards him. And he couldn’t deny the warm little charge of electricity that was surging through him just by being in the same room with her. He’d thought he’d let his feverish imagination run away with him where Sophie’s appeal was concerned, but now he saw that he hadn’t. He just couldn’t understand this wild desire he was harbouring for a woman who was now displaying all the signs of complete uninterest and none of the passionate attraction she’d demonstrated on Friday. It certainly pricked his pride.

‘I’d rather not, thank you. You said you wanted to talk about a wedding gift for Diana?’

Reaching into the discreet side pocket in her skirt, Sophie withdrew a folded piece of paper and, getting to her feet, handed it to Dominic. ‘I’ve scribbled down some ideas that might help. Of course, not knowing what kind of budget you had in mind, my suggestions might be somewhat limited.’

A smile touching his lips at the mere idea of a ‘budget’, Dominic accepted the slip of paper and dropped it onto the table as if it barely concerned him at all. Seeing the gesture, Sophie felt her stomach execute an anxious cartwheel. Indignant that he hadn’t even glanced at what she’d written, she sat back down on the couch with definite trepidation.

‘You’re not even going to look at it?’

‘Later.’

What did he mean, ‘later’? Wasn’t that why he’d invited her round in the first place? To discuss ideas for a present?

‘About the coat…’ Dominic began.

Hot colour poured into Sophie’s cheeks. ‘What about it?’

‘Did you even try it on?’

She was ashamed to silently admit that she had. It had felt wonderful, too—a perfect fit. She’d loved the way the expensive fabric had swished round her legs and made her feel like a million dollars. But there was no way she was going to let him know that.

‘The point is, Mr Van Straten—’

He couldn’t believe she’d referred to him so formally. Why was she now trying to erect fences between them when they had already been so intimate?

‘Dominic. We surely know each other well enough to use first names?’ he interceded smoothly.

Startled blue eyes met slightly mocking green ones, then quickly glanced away again.

‘We hardly know each other at all! Despite…despite what happened between us. I told you on the phone that I couldn’t—wouldn’t—accept the coat. What happened, happened, and now we should both just forget about it. Diana is married and on her honeymoon, and hopefully having a good time. That’s all that matters now.’

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