Kate Hardy - His Permanent Mistress - Mistress Under Contract

Oh. Yes.

He blinked and with a little reluctance brought his focus up to her face.

She looked defensive. ‘You don’t think I can do this, do you?’

‘Why would I have given you the job if I thought that?’

‘You tell me.’ Her chin was tilted high in a challenge and all he could do was admire the long column of her neck—smooth, olive skin leading down to collar bones that begged to be kissed.

‘You think I fancy you?’ Damn. He did. He’d have to bluff. ‘Sorry to disappoint you, darling, but you’re not my type.’ That was the truth. Really. She wasn’t.

‘Really?’

‘I prefer a more…finished…look.’

‘You mean plastic. Petite. Perfect. Arm candy for the hotshot lawyer.’

He didn’t even try to argue. She could think what she liked so long as he was covered. And, yeah, maybe his dates usually were pretty perfect-looking things.

‘Rankles, does it?’ He leaned closer, resisting the urge to get close enough to touch her. Hell, he really wanted to grab and haul her to him. Regressing to prehistoric man minute by minute. Irritated, he went a step too far. ‘By finished, I mean at least combed.’

The flash of hurt in her eyes had him instantly regretting it. Since when was he mean? He was like a kid in school picking on the girl he secretly fancied. God, he was never usually so gauche.

She blocked his glimpse to her soul by lowering her eyelids to half-mast, but her smart mouth and tilted chin were firmly up again. ‘For the record. You’re not my type either.’

‘Really?’ His muscles tightened.

‘I prefer more…wild. Not square or…boring.’

‘Bad-boy type who treats you mean, huh?’

‘No need to be patronising. I’m not stupid, you know.’

No. She wasn’t. She was smart—mouthed at least. He needed to back off. She was getting under his skin in a way he wasn’t comfortable with. Having sex with her wouldn’t be wise. Maybe when Lara was back and the responsibility for the club wasn’t on him, he’d consider it. ‘OK. So we’re not each other’s types. I’m glad we got that sorted out.’

She gave him one last look that swam in lack of interest and turned back to her shelves. He stayed exactly where he was and kept watching her.

Boring? She thought he was boring? What, because he wore a suit and practised law? She should learn not to judge a book by its cover.

She bent down and pulled up a trigger bottle. Sprayed frothy liquid on the glass and started to wipe it. She looked at him in the mirror behind the glass shelving. He didn’t look away. Nor did she and after a moment her hand stopped ineffectually wiping the smears from one end of the mirror to the other. They stared.

What he’d love to do right now to show her he wasn’t a square.

She must have grasped some hint of what he was thinking because suddenly she looked away and her wiping of the mirror resumed—a little frantically.

‘I thought you had work to do.’

‘Yeah.’

He pushed away from the bar and walked round to the other side, took the last seat at the bar and pulled out the relevant material from his bag. He put his laptop to the side and ignored it, opting for the paper files. Pen in hand, he bent to his reading. Determined to focus on the facts. Not be distracted by the beach-blown beauty doing the Cinderella act in the corner.

Lucy found cleaning the cooler cabinet a perfect way of working off the extra energy she seemed to have accrued. She watched him out of the corner of her eye. Half aggravated, half attracted.

So definitely not her type.

But so definitely gorgeous.

His head hadn’t lifted from the pages he’d been intently studying for the last forty minutes. Good concentration. She could believe it. When he’d focused his attention on her she’d felt the full force of that intensity. He had the kind of look that went right through outer layers and into the heart of the matter. The heart of her. She wouldn’t want to be on a witness stand and on the end of one of those penetrating golden-eyed stares. For a second there he’d had the look of a predator in his eye, out to conquer. Well, no one conquered Lucy, thanks very much. Especially not arrogant suits who made the rules without regard to the feelings and needs of others.

She couldn’t stand the silence any more. ‘Big case, huh?’

He lifted his head. ‘Reasonably.’

‘Are you going to get him off?’

‘I’m going to do my best.’

He looked back to his pages. OK. It was like trying to get information out of the Kremlin. Mr Closed Shop. She had the urge to open him up. What would he be like out of the suit? What would he be like in bed?

Serious. Strong. Intense. Her whole body was on edge just from having him over five feet away. How fierce would her tension be if he were to get even closer—as close as a man and woman can physically get? And how complete would the relief be when that tension snapped?

Intuitively she knew it would be incredible.

She finished the area behind the bar and checked and double-checked the inventory of stock. She was tired from a long day walking round temp agencies and she was hungry but it looked as if Daniel was settled in for a long night over the books. How late did he expect her to work? She decided to give him a status report and wow him with her efficiency.

‘I’ve organised the staff for Friday—they’re coming in for a meeting tomorrow afternoon. Will you want to be here for that?’

He looked up, his eyes taking a moment to focus on her. When they did it was with deadly accuracy. ‘I might be around—what time?’

‘Three p.m. Meanwhile I’m looking into a replacement bouncer for the Thursday to Saturday shifts. I know someone perfect for the job.’

He didn’t look impressed. He looked sceptical. ‘Is he qualified?’

‘Of course.’ She couldn’t wait to see his face when he saw her bouncer. Her imp of disobedience must have been obvious because he stared hard at her but refrained from comment. Lucy was disappointed; she’d wanted to tell him all about the black belt in ju-jitsu and six-foot-two physique. Instead he started the interrogation about everything else.

‘What about the stock?’

‘I’ve done an inventory and cleaned the shelves at the same time. I’ll start contacting the reps first thing in the morning.’

‘DJ?’

‘Looking into it. Again, I thought I’d use my contacts.’

‘What about the fire extinguishers and escape routes—got those sorted?’

She stared at him. ‘Rules and regulations all you can think about?’

‘We’re not talking some small café here. We’re talking a bar—late licence, heaving dance floor on the weekend. Health and safety is paramount.’

Well, for him it would be. He’d never see this place as a place to have fun. It was obvious it was all one huge headache to him. He was probably a refined wine-club kind of guy. All the law students she’d known when she was at university were going on about vintage and method and paying outrageous sums for a tiny glass of something sublime down at the exclusive bars on the fringes of the power enclave in central Wellington. ‘OK, I’ll check the fire exits.’

‘I expect you to drill the staff in that. The last thing I’m having is some disaster on my watch.’

‘Yes, boss.’ There were risks to health and safety in any bar at any time. And she wasn’t thinking fire or earthquake. There were other battles to wage and she’d ensure her staff were au fait with defence weaponry because that was one thing she did know about—firsthand.

He reached into his pocket. ‘I got a key cut for you.’He handed her a slip of paper at the same time. ‘This is the code for the alarm.’