Natalie Fox - Reluctant Mistress

‘I’m not going anywhere, Liza,’ he said smoothly. ‘I’ve apologised once; I’m not in the habit of repeating myself. I want you, not your body, though the thought is very delectable. I’m not a fool; I don’t mess with my employees. I want you to work for me and I don’t take you for a fool either. To refuse me would be very unwise indeed.’

‘That sounds remarkably like a threat to me.’

He looked up at her, jet eyes narrowed warningly. ‘It is. You’d be wise to heed it.’

He lunged forward as defiantly Liza reached for the phone. His fingers wrapped around her wrist, not forcibly but firmly enough to convince her he meant business. She let go of the handset reluctantly.

‘Good girl,’ he patronised. ‘Now, what about some lunch?’

Wrenching her wrist away from him, she glowered at him darkly. ‘Last night’s lasagne reheated in the microwave. It’s all I have,’ she clipped, knowing it was the only way to get rid of him. Feed him, listen to what he had to say and then, at three on the dot, slam the door after him. Thank you and goodbye, Robert Buchanan!

‘The more I see of this house, the more I like it,’ he said, following her into the small yet functional kitchen divided off from the sitting-room by a wide archway.

Liza slammed the microwave door shut on the lasagne and punched out five minutes on the digital timer. She refused to say a word. Her mouth had led her into enough trouble already.

‘The mortgage on such a desirable residence in London must be quite a millstone for a single lady.’

She swung on him then, her flame hair flying wispily around her face. Impatiently she tucked it behind her ears. ‘What’s that supposed to mean? Are you implying I might supplement my income on the streets...?’ Her voice cracked in protest at herself. He hadn’t implied anything of the sort! ‘I’m sorry,’ she murmured, turning away to put on the kettle. ‘I seem to be going slowly mad.’

‘I disagree. You’re heading for the funny farm very rapidly.’

Liza reluctantly smiled then, turning her wide green eyes to him leaning nonchalantly in the archway. ‘You could be right,’ she sighed, ‘but it’s not every day you lose your career.’

‘Your career is just about to begin,’ he told her blandly.

‘You’re going to make me an offer I can’t refuse, are you?’

‘I’d say you’re not in a position to turn any offer away. Even a month out of work these days will play havoc with your bank account.’

‘Very true,’ she conceded, reaching for plates from the cupboard above her head. ‘But you’re not the only publisher in town. I’ve enough contacts in the business to get myself another position tomorrow.’

‘Not when word gets round that Leisure Days folded because of mismanagement.’

‘On the editorial side, not mine. I know my worth, Mr Buchanan.’ She frowned suddenly. ‘So why did you buy it?’ she asked.

‘It wasn’t all bad. It has potential and it went for a song. I’ll merge it with several others...’

‘Clone it, don’t you mean?’ she retorted.

‘Call it what you will, but in six months it will be the best monthly of its kind on the news-stands, here and across the continent,’ he told her confidently.

‘I’m not sure I want to work in that sort of stable. I like a small independent concern with a bit of character,’ she told him resolutely.

The microwave pinged out its five-second warning as Robert Buchanan stated quietly, ‘I’m not offering you the job.’

‘Oh!’ Her quizzical eyes settled on his. ‘What exactly are you offering?’

‘Overall advertising directorship. Thirty-five European magazines with offices in Amsterdam, Paris, Madrid...’

He reeled off several more capital cities, but Liza’s head buzzed his words into a blur. The lasagne nearly hit the quarry-tiled kitchen floor. With shaking fingers she lowered the dish to the work-surface.

‘You’ve got to be joking!’ she breathed incredulously.

‘I don’t make jokes about business. Do you want the job or not? I can name a hundred others who would rip their hearts out for such an offer.’ He stepped forward and picked up the plates and cutlery Liza had laid out ready, and turned and took them into the dining section of the sitting-room.

Liza stood where she was, stupefied into senselessness by the thought of such a job. He couldn’t be serious! This was some sort of weird hallucination. She plunged her index finger into the centre of the lasagne and winced at the pain of the burn. Yes, she was awake and this wasn’t some crazy dream. She lifted the dish and carried it into the other room, went back into the kitchen, and made a pot of tea, hardly aware of what she was doing.

‘This is delicious!’ he enthused as he forked a mouthful. ‘You’re a good cook.’

‘I’m not,’ Liza told him, her voice a croaking whisper. ‘There’s an Italian take-away round the corner. ‘I’m not a cook and I can’t take your job...but thank you for the offer.’

The day-old lasagne was like layered cardboard in her mouth. She swallowed hard and poured two mugs of steaming tea.

‘Your hand is shaking. What are you afraid of?’

She raised her eyes to his, tried to force a smile, but her pale coral lips twisted instead. She shook her head. ‘I can’t believe you’ve just offered me such a stupendous job; I mean...it’s...it’s too much...’

‘Oh, dear,’ he sighed, laying down his fork. ‘Don’t say for the first time in my life I’ve made a wrong character judgement. You’re not going all female on me, are you?’

‘How do you mean?’ her voice came back strongly.

‘You don’t feel you’re capable of such a position?’

‘No...it’s not that.’ Oh, God, it was! She was good at her job and knew it, but this offer was out of this world. The thought of running such an empire terrified her and yet...the challenge!

Robert Buchanan’s hand reached out and touched hers across the glass-topped table. ‘Liza, I wouldn’t be making this offer if I didn’t think you were right for it.’

‘But you don’t even know me!’ Liza argued, drawing her hand away from his.

‘I don’t know half of my staff but I know about them, just as I know that your qualifications and your flair are right for the job. I’ve done my homework. You have communication talent, a shrewd head on your shoulders. You don’t take any nonsense from anyone—you proved that with your attitude towards me.’

‘I was rude to you,’ she admitted, lowering her head.

‘Not without cause. I made a tactless remark in front of people whose nerves were already on a knife-edge.’

She admired him for admitting to that, but it didn’t change her opinion of him. He was ruthless. By what she had read about him, she knew he would dispense with the majority of the staff she had worked alongside. He wouldn’t tolerate John Standish’s ineptitude; he’d be on the next dole queue without a doubt. And what would become of her if she didn’t jump when he commanded? He’d fire her without a qualm if she didn’t prove her worth. But with a negative attitude like that she wouldn’t go far in this world, she reasoned miserably.

‘I’ll quadruple your present salary.’ He picked up his fork and proceeded to finish his lunch.

Liza watched him, cat-like. Money. Did he think it could be as easy as that?

‘That’s some carrot you’re dangling.’

‘Take it, before I offer it elsewhere,’ he told her coldly.

He obviously thought she was playing hard to get. ‘Why me?’ she challenged. ‘It’s a heavyweight job, more suited to a man, I would have thought.’

‘Most of my magazine staff are women. I like women. Don’t you read the gossip columns?’ He raised a sardonic black brow, questioning her.