Kate Hardy - His Permanent Mistress - Mistress Under Contract

She leant forward, abandoning dignity in her desperation for dollars. ‘Look, I can do this. I’ve been working in bars and restaurants for years. I know the suppliers. I know what works and what doesn’t. Give me the job and I promise you won’t regret it.’

She glanced at the clock. It wasn’t far off five. She hoped like crazy the receptionist wouldn’t walk back in. Hoped her luck would hold to grant her this one chance. ‘I know the drill from the cleaning to stock management to handling stroppy customers. Been there, done that. And I can deal with staff.’ She looked at him firmly. ‘Bar staff work hard. I know exactly how hard and I know how to give them the respect and motivation they need to keep working that way.’

She didn’t know if her argument was working, but she did know he hadn’t taken his eyes off her. She’d seen him glance over her a couple of times but for the most part his gaze held hers. She found it incredibly difficult not to be distracted by his intensity. And by the colour of his eyes. She debated whether they were truly pure gold or brown with gold flecks. Either way they were unusual. And mesmerising. She blinked. Not going to go there. Not going to be distracted.

‘If you want someone to run your club. Then you want me.’

You always pre-plan your activities

DANIEL GRAYDON sat back and let the words hang on the air. You want me . Awful to admit it but he kind of did. Which was surprising because it only took a second to know she wasn’t his type, sitting there humming, smiling to herself, she was on another planet from his. He took a few more seconds to look her over and reinforce the impression.

She looked like an untamed gypsy and he was more your refined-preppy-girl kind of guy. She had the kind of tan that signalled lengthy hours on the beach. The low neckline of her singlet top revealed not even the hint of a bikini mark—an all-over-body tan? He banished the immediate mental picture only to focus on her long legs—wrapped in worn denim. Sizable patches on the thigh and knee showed where only a few threads remained before they’d finally fray into holes. He’d love to know if the skin under them would be as golden and soft-looking as that on her arms, her neck…God, he needed to get a grip.

He forced his attention to her feet.

Cowboy boots looked back at him. Brown, pointy-toed, wedge-heeled with patterns worked on the leather. He felt the reluctant smile tug at his mouth. He wondered if there were spurs to match, or if she had a whip—other than her tongue, which he was quite sure was capable of giving a good lashing.

Her CV had ‘wanderer’all over it—your typical instant-gratification girl. She’d stick around while the sun shone but any hint of a cloud and she’d be off. A shining example of the ‘what’s in it for me, me, me?’ gender. Daniel was all too familiar with women—they upped and left uncaring of whatever disaster they left behind. No sense of loyalty, responsibility, reliability. Which was precisely why he upped and left them before they had a chance to. Ordinarily, he’d have enjoyed saying no to her. But in this instance he didn’t require endurance, he required immediate and short-term. Her self-confessed flightiness shouldn’t be a problem.

He looked back to her face. She was staring at him. He could feel her willing him to take her on. But it wasn’t the bold challenge that got him. It was the glimpse of someone desperate for the chance, concealed under the confidence. As a lawyer he’d seen that look many times before. The hidden desire—wanting someone to listen and take a risk. Even though they knew there was really no chance and they were just waiting for the refusal. It was the look that had him taking on clients when his caseload was already too full to handle. Pro bono at that. The kind of cases that had the senior partners frowning at him.

She was talking again. ‘You’ve got nothing to lose and everything to gain. It’s nearly five now—if you want someone to start tonight I’m your only bet. I can do this. Let me prove it to you.’

He glanced at his watch. She was right; it was nearly five. No time to hit another agency. Certainly not if they were all as inept as the receptionist in this one was. So what choice did he have? He had to have someone in there tidying up the mess tonight.

Her green eyes burned into him. He saw passion there, with defiance and determination. The words were out before he realised he’d even thought them. ‘I’ll give you three weeks. We go to the club now.’

The look on her face was one he wouldn’t forget in a hurry. The sultry, sarcastic covering lifted to reveal a truly genuine pleasure—her smile wide and terrific and impossible not to respond to. His heart lifted. And then the delight shown in her full lips affected him in another region altogether. Groin region.

Not good. ‘Right now.’

He stood, expecting her to do the same. She was on her feet in a flash, papers tumbling from her bag as she did so. She stuffed the CVs in, creasing them. He watched, heart cooling, thinking that if she was usually that clumsy she might need them again sooner than she thought.

A woman walked in from the back office. ‘Sorry, I was longer than I—’She broke off as she saw Daniel. ‘I’m sorry. Can I help you?’

He raised his brows at her, giving her the supercilious-lawyer look he reserved for smart-mouthed petty crims, happy to teach her a lesson in customer service. ‘I’m afraid you’re too late.’

She looked nonplussed.

His new bar manager followed up by giving her an evil smirk. ‘I’m sorry. I don’t have time to complete all these forms. I have a job already.’ She put the long strap of her bag over her shoulder. ‘Shame. You missed a good commission.’Then she bent and lifted something else she had parked beside her seat. A violin case.

He stood back and watched as she passed him, a swaggering cowgirl looking in complete control. Completely confident. He glanced back registering the dismayed expression on the agency worker’s face.

‘You know you’re making a big mistake. It’s much better to go through an agency for temporary workers.’ She practically tut-tutted.

‘For whom?’ Daniel flattened. ‘Employer, employee or middleman who needs the introduction buck?’

He turned and joined his temp who was now waiting for him on the street. They headed in the direction of the club. It was only a five-minute walk through the funky end of town. Students, buskers and suits vied for space in the cafés they passed.

‘So is it a violin or are you actually Mafioso?’

‘You think I’m concealing a dangerous weapon?’

He had the feeling she was a dangerous weapon, full stop. ‘You know, you’re amazingly trusting.’

‘Why?’

‘You don’t even know my name.’ He had hers. Lucy Elizabeth Delaney. Twenty-four years old. Bachelor of Music, second class honours. Held current driver’s licence together with own ancient car according to registration details. Exclusive private boarding-school and not much advertised in the way of extra-curricular activities. He had the feeling she might have been too busy having some kind of social life to be tied down to the debating team or the hockey team or the school choir.

She ran a sharp eye over his suit. ‘You don’t look the dangerous type.’

‘Appearances can be deceiving.’ A little piqued, he decided to hit where he knew it would hurt. ‘You don’t even know how much I’m going to pay you.’

This time her glance stabbed. ‘I know the going rate.’

He realised then that he didn’t. Wouldn’t have a clue. He didn’t know a lot about this business—other than the price of a decent glass of wine. If he wasn’t careful this woman would have him over a barrel. She might not want to stick at any job for long, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t sharp.