His Permanent Mistress: Mistress Under Contract. Kate Hardy

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      He stared into the sea. ‘The last thing I want to think about right now is that case.’

      ‘What do you want to think about?’

      ‘Nothing. No thoughts. No analysis.’

      No regrets. He blinked and turned to look at her.

      ‘Let’s go for that swim.’She raised her brow, wanting to shatter the sudden stillness. ‘Race you to the pontoon.’ She’d ripped off her glasses and dress and was running to the water before she’d finished the sentence. She heard his growl of laughter, and knew her head start would only be a split-second advantage.

      The water was freezing but she struck out and pulled her arms through the water furiously. Ten seconds into it and she was fighting a stitch-like pain in her side. How could she have lost fitness in just a few days? Breathless, she finally got there and tried really hard not to be completely peeved as she saw his face already bobbing by the wood.

      ‘Your technique’s not bad really,’ he said. ‘You could do with a bit of practice.’

      ‘You think?’ She puffed out the words.

      A party of keen teenagers splashed out, swamping the pontoon with wet bodies. Lucy sank a little in the crowd. Daniel frowned as he saw her face. He reached out an arm and pulled her to him. He gripped the pontoon and supported her with his other arm. ‘You OK?’

      ‘Sure.’ Her breath wouldn’t return. If anything she felt more puffed. And cold. She wanted his other arm around her. His legs brushed against hers as he trod the water.

      ‘Your lips are blue. You’re freezing.’

      All she could think about was how he could warm her up.

      ‘I’ll swim you back in.’

      This was embarrassing. It was only a few metres but her body was acting as if she’d tried to swim the English channel in winter with only a banana for breakfast. Come to think of it, she hadn’t had breakfast. Or lunch.

      ‘OK.’

      ‘Put your arms and legs around me.’

      ‘Sorry?’

      ‘Come on, koala hold.’

      ‘You can’t swim with me like that.’

      ‘I can swim. Trust me.’ He took her hands and pulled her towards him. She had no option, had to cling to him like a little barnacle on a big rock. Oh, yeah, she just had to.

      His body was warm even in the chilly water. The feeling of security in his strong arms was soporific, the pleasure in being carried by a fit male extreme.

      I am pathetic. I am a pathetic excuse for a modern woman. I should be swimming myself. She relaxed against him completely and let her arms hold him close. The sensation was too nice not to indulge. Her eyes shut tight. Her body wasn’t cold any more.

      ‘Lucy, you can let go now.’

      She opened her eyes to his dry amusement, suddenly aware she was barely under the water. A boy who looked about eight years old was standing in the water not far away. She really was pathetic. Reluctantly she looked up into his face. He stared at her, his mouth sort of smiling, but his eyes were like arrows piercing deep, searching. Talk about one-way traffic—hunting out her thoughts while refusing to reveal any of his own. She dropped her gaze, landing on his shoulders instead. Stupid, because they were very broad and she was very nearly clinging. She went to lower her legs but his hands tightened on her a fraction. She risked another look at his eyes. Gleaming gold flecks grew—bringing warmth to his usually reserved demeanour—and bringing heat to her belly.

      The young boy hollered out to a friend. The moment shattered. She slipped from his arms and stumbled up the beach. Back on shore she shivered. Need made her bones ache. He handed her a towel and she sat with it cloaked tepee-style around her. She caught his frown.

      ‘I’m OK, just tired.’

      ‘You haven’t eaten.’ He rummaged in his bag and pulled out a banana. She giggled.

      ‘What’s so funny?’ He peeled the banana. ‘OK, it’s not much. Down that and we’ll go to the deli.’

      They sat and waited for their order. He picked up a paper from the counter. He took the news section, offered her the glossy magazine.

      ‘Actually I’d prefer the world section.’

      He looked curious.

      ‘Weirdest-stories-in-the-world section,’ she explained. ‘You know—SHARK EATS ELEPHANT, EIGHTY-NINE-YEAR-OLD WOMAN GIVES BIRTH.’

      ‘That’s not the world section, that’s tabloid.’ He handed it to her anyway. ‘I’ll have it back when you’re done.’

      The silence was almost companionable. He sat in his long board shorts, sandals and nothing else. She wore a tee and her sarong tied round her middle. If she closed her eyes she could pretend they were on a beach on some remote Pacific island. Only they wouldn’t have a table separating them. She wouldn’t be avoiding eye contact. There wouldn’t be other people sitting too close and talking too loudly about what movie they should go to that night. He wouldn’t be so engrossed in the business section.

      The pancakes with banana, bacon and maple syrup looked fantastic, but only a few bites into it she abandoned it—grumpily recognising her appetite was nothing like normal.

      They wandered the few yards back to his flat. She’d pretended the silence was comfortable, but now it intensified to uneasy awareness. They said nothing as they climbed the stairs. Once in the apartment she headed straight to her room, showered and re-dressed. She headed to the lounge and out to the balcony. She sat and took in the view and pretended she couldn’t care less where he was right now or what he was doing.

      He wasn’t interested. Nor was she.

      She was a big fat liar.

      She turned to see what he was doing. He stood at the table—currently scattered with paperwork from one end to the other. He must have showered because his hair was freshly damp. She tried not to think about his body naked under the jets but the sight of him in those jeans didn’t take the edge off. To her dismay he started loading the papers into a box.

      ‘You’re not staying in tonight?’ Why had she thought he would? Just because he’d made her take the night off—he hadn’t suggested a date or anything like it.

      ‘I have to work.’ He shuffled more paper. ‘I worked all morning and now I’ve had a break I need to get back into it. The case starts soon.’

      ‘You can’t work here?’ He’d worked here this morning, hadn’t he?

      His hands stilled. ‘No. I can’t.’ His lips twisted. ‘I need to meet with my junior and go for as long as it takes.’ He clipped the lid on the box. ‘You stay home and watch a movie or something. I spoke to Sinead and she’s promised to have everything under control.’

      ‘I should go there tonight.’

      ‘You’ve СКАЧАТЬ