A Suitable Mistress

by Cathy Williams

  ‘Thank you. But my last company was—’

  ‘Now,’ Angela said, eliminating Suzanne entirely from her range of vision, ‘Dane, tell me all about the trip. How was New York?’ Back to the efficient, career-woman voice, Suzanne noticed.

  ‘Still standing,’ Dane drawled wryly, looking across to Suzanne, who promptly stared out of the window. This situation was beginning to remind her unpleasantly of when she had been much younger, when she would accidentally meet him with one of his girlfriends and be reduced in a matter of minutes to feeling clumsy and gauche and virtually on another planet altogether. Although, it had to be said that he had been more physical with his girlfriends then than now.

  ‘Who did you meet?’ Angela pressed. ‘Did you see Bruce? I had a fax from him two days ago. The acquisition you were working on has gone through, I take it?’

  ‘We don’t want to discuss work-related matters now, do we?’ Dane asked in a voice that expected no debate on the subject.

  ‘Please,’ Suzanne said, turning to them, ‘don’t mind me. I’m happy to just enjoy the passing scenery. I don’t often get the unexpected pleasure of being taken for a drive.’

  If you see me as a charity case, she thought acidly, then I might just as well oblige by acting like one, and Dane looked at her with a frown.

  ‘I find it’s the only way to get around London,’ Angela said. ‘The underground is so grimy.’

  ‘I like it,’ Suzanne said. ‘It’s a bit claustrophobic during the rush hour but—’

  ‘I think it’s far easier to bear those throngs of people when you’re younger.’ Angela pouted at Dane. ‘Don’t you agree, Dane? Not that I’m an old woman—’ she laughed and ran her fingers through her hair with a graceful movement ‘—but I can’t bear being surrounded by too many people. I guess...’ she laughed again—a surprised laugh as though she was only now coming to this revealing conclusion ‘...it’s because I grew up in one of those traditional three-car households in America and I hardly knew the meaning of public transport.’

  ‘I didn’t think that there was such a thing as a traditional three-car household,’ Suzanne said politely. She longed to be back at her desk with only her apple for company.

  ‘It comes as something of a surprise to me as well,’ Dane said with a laugh.

  And Angela obviously felt that she had somehow been pushed to the fringe, because she said in a tighter voice, ‘I suppose “traditional” isn’t quite the word. I suppose I don’t like to boast about my upbringing, which was a very privileged one.’ She murmured to Dane, ‘You must share the feeling.’

  Now Suzanne could see well enough where the conversation had been leading. Angela must have known that her father was no more than a chauffeur, a hired hand, employed to serve Dane’s family, and she had been making sure that the message was fully understood.

  You might have been given a job and a room, Angela was telling her, but don’t let it go to your head. You’re a child, and, moreover, one from a different background—the wrong background. He felt sorry for you, but just remember the differences.

  What else had he told her? Suzanne wondered angrily.

  ‘Not really,’ Dane said coolly as the taxi dropped them outside the restaurant.

  ‘I guess not,’ Angela said under her breath standing beside him at the entrance. ‘I admire that. I can’t bear snobs.’

  From behind them, feeling rather distanced and hulkish, Suzanne looked at the small blonde and wondered what it would be like if she missed her footing and fell with an almighty crash to the pavement, landing in a spectacularly ungraceful position. She stuck her hands behind her back just in case the temptation to help fate along with a little push overcame her.

  It didn’t seem fair that she shouldn’t at least bury her wretchedness under some creamy food, but she had salad and pretended not to notice Dane’s raised eyebrows at the order.

  It was only when, after the meal had finished, Angela took herself off to the Ladies that Dane turned to her and said bluntly, ‘What the hell is the matter with you, Suzie? You can’t be finding the job that great. You look bloody miserable.’

  Oh, thank you very much, she thought sourly, for the compliment of a lifetime.

  ‘I love the job,’ she said back at him, two spots of colour on her cheeks. ‘What I don’t love is the fact that you sent Angela Street along to do your dirty work!’

  ‘What the hell are you on about now?’

  ‘You know what I’m on about!’

  ‘I am not telepathic and I have no idea what you’re talking about, and quite frankly I am not in the mood to play some kind of elaborate guessing game with you. If you have something to say, why don’t you just say it instead of taking refuge behind sulks?’

  ‘I have not been sulking!’

  ‘No? You barely said a word during lunch and when one of us asked you anything you answered in monosyllables. That seems to me to be a pretty accurate description of someone sulking.’

  ‘All right! I admit that I didn’t feel particularly thrilled to be included in your little lunch rendezvous. It may have escaped your notice but Angela was less than impressed when you asked me to tag along!’

  ‘Rendezvous? What on earth are you on about now? Your imagination is running away with you. It seems to be something of a habit.’ He drank the remainder of his gin and tonic and regarded her with amusement as he put the glass down in front of him.

  Suzanne went on, ‘You can’t be that much in touch with women if you didn’t notice how much Angela resented my presence here today. She expected to have you to herself and instead she found herself lumbered with a party of three.’

  ‘Have me to herself? She may have been a bit taken aback because there were certain aspects of my trip she wanted to discuss, but that’s about it.’

  ‘Oh, is that a fact?’ Suzanne muttered, head bent, confused and embarrassed. When she raised her head, it was to find him grinning at her.

  ‘Because you had a crush on me doesn’t mean that the entire female race is bowled over by my charm.’

  ‘I do not have a crush on you!’ She was so mortified that she could hardly speak.

  ‘Had.’ He was still grinning and looking thoroughly entertained. ‘Past tense. You forgot that you’ve already told me how much you dislike me and how immune you are to my particular species. Arrogant, I believe you said; too good-looking, too full of myself.’

  Suzanne spluttered.

  ‘I’m probably misreading the whole situation, though,’ he said thoughtfully, rubbing his chin with his long fingers, then shooting her a look from under his lashes. ‘Perhaps you’re feeling a little edgy because your self-esteem just lately has taken a beating, and it’s left you vulnerable to feeling a certain amount of jealousy for Angela. She is, I suppose, a very beautiful woman.’

  Which, she finished to herself for him, is something you’re never likely to be. Her father had thought that she was beautiful, but that had been paternal affection talking. She was too tall, too vivid ever to be classed as beautiful. At her very best, and before she had put on weight, she had occasionally thought herself attractive, but real beauty was like Angela’s—a face that was carved into perfection, with hair that hung like a glossy curtain at the side of her face instead of rebelling against all restraints and demanding attention.

  He signalled to the waiter but kept his eyes on her face. ‘Have I hit the nail on the head, Suzie?’

  ‘You have not! In fact, you’re so far off target that you need your eyes tested!’ But her objections seemed hollow and a little overheated. ‘It’s just that Angela seems to know the full extent of why I’m working for her—’

  ‘Should it have been a secret?’

  ‘—and I don’t care to be discussed behind my back.’

  ‘I’m getting a little tired of your puerile outrage over every little thing—’

  ‘Every little thing! You think it’s nice to know that you’ve been telling the whole world how sorry you feel for me, how
you felt morally obliged to offer me a roof over my head and an income until something better came along?’

  ‘You’re trying my patience...’

  ‘My humblest apologies.’ She leant forward. ‘But I do feel it would be better if I found, at least, somewhere else to live, don’t you?’

  Angela had emerged from the Ladies.

  ‘This,’ he countered, all amusement gone, leaning forward as well so that he was far too close to her for her liking, ‘is neither the time nor the place to discuss this. We’ll talk about it later. In the apartment. I’ll be home at eight. By which time I trust that you’ll have your unruly temper in check.’

  CHAPTER FOUR

  SUZANNE had planned to just mention it all very casually.

  ‘Angela,’ she had planned to say, in passing and more or less over one shoulder, ‘has mentioned that it might be a good idea if I start looking around for a flat as soon as possible. I’m very grateful for your putting me up, but I agree with her, and I’ll start trying to find somewhere as soon as possible.’

  No more outbursts, no childish hints at his relationship with Angela, whatever that might be. Cool, calm and collected. Three qualities, which seemed conspicuous by their absence whenever he was around, but which she had to lay her hands on somewhere if she weren’t to be the constant butt of his infuriating amusement at her expense.

  Of course, she should have casually mentioned it at the restaurant at lunchtime, just as she should have casually omitted that Angela had had anything to do with her decision, but as usual he had managed to throw her off course.

  Now the whole thing had escalated, at least in her mind, to the point of confrontation, and at seven-thirty she found herself sitting in her bedroom, with the television on, looking at the clock every three minutes.

  He came home before eight. She knew that because she heard his movements through her closed door. At eight-thirty she sauntered out in her jeans and white shirt and adopted an air of complete surprise when she found him in the kitchen making himself a cup of coffee.

  He had taken off his jacket, which was draped over the back of a chair, and had rolled his striped shirt up to the elbows.

  ‘I wondered whether you were in,’ he said, leaning against the kitchen counter and looking at her. ‘There’s no need to hide yourself away in your bedroom, you know.’

  ‘Oh, I wasn’t hiding myself away.’ She sat down at the kitchen table and folded her arms. ‘I quite like it, actually. I read, watch the television; it’s restful.’

  ‘Someone of your age shouldn’t be having restful evenings, surely?’ He laughed—a low, throaty laugh that made her resolve to be perfectly relaxed and controlled slip a little.

  ‘And what should someone of my age be doing?’ she asked innocently. ‘Inviting little chums to tea, followed by some children’s television and colouring?’

  ‘Sarcasm doesn’t become you.’ He sat down opposite her with his cup of coffee and looked at her steadily.

  ‘I wasn’t being sarcastic. I’m just reacting against your constant implications that I’m young enough to be your daughter. I’m nearly twenty-one and I stopped colouring and playing with my painting set a long time ago.’

  ‘I know you’re not a child, Suzie,’ he murmured, and his eyes followed her ample curves in a way that made the blood rush to her head. ‘I would have to be blind not to see that you’re no longer the lanky, flat-chested girl who used to come running whenever I called.’

  Suzanne felt her breathing begin to get a bit thick. No, definitely not flat-chested. Her full breasts were hardly ever contained in a bra when she was at home. She could feel them hanging now, like ripe fruit.

  ‘Then stop treating me like a child. You arrived on my doorstep unannounced, informed me that I was incapable of looking after myself, carted me off here, manufactured a job for me working for your imported managing director, probably because you thought that it would do me good—’ She had very nearly said that that was what Angela had told her at any rate. ‘And you expect me not to accuse you of treating me as though I had lost my wits somewhere along the line?’

  His eyes narrowed. ‘We’ve been through most of this before and I don’t intend to go into it again. You’ve decided to interpret my actions in the way that suits your argument, and that’s fine, but spare me the outbursts.’

  If she had been holding a cup, she would have slammed it on the table. In the absence of one, she slammed her open hand on the table, palm down, which hurt, and said angrily, ‘Do you deny that there’s some truth in what I’ve said?’

  ‘You make it sound as though I’m the big, bad wolf. Why don’t you try looking at the truth a little more dispassionately, if you can do that?’ The temperature of his voice was dropping by degrees by the minute and she could tell that he wasn’t too impressed with her outburst. He had never been a great one for showing great explosions of feeling, and he disliked it in other people, she assumed, but wasn’t that just too bad?

  ‘And what is the truth? According to Dane Sutherland.’

  ‘The truth is that you had completely given up on everything. You were living in a bedsit which was only just short of needing demolition, you had just lost your job, which from the sounds of it was hardly worth having in the first place, and the bald truth of the matter was that you didn’t have a clue what to do next.’

  ‘I was happy being clueless!’ She stood up and leant on her hands against the top of the table. She felt as though in a minute she would be breathing fire.

  ‘You were miserable!’ He wasn’t shouting, but his voice was clear and hard and she felt a strange pleasure as she watched his initial impatience develop into anger.

  ‘So you felt a little conscience-stricken and decided to take me away from all that! I only came with you because I had no choice!’

  ‘You came with me because you wanted to,’ he ground out. ‘If you’ve managed to convince yourself that I dragged you here kicking and screaming all the way, then you’re a fool!’

  ‘So I’m a fool now, on top of everything else!’

  He stood up and leant towards her, so that their positions were mirrored, but with the width of the table separating them, which was just as well because he looked as though he wanted to hit her.

  She only realised that, leaning over as she was, her shirt was gaping at the front, exposing her breasts to him when she saw his eyes glance down, and then he straightened up and walked towards the kitchen sink. He stood there, with his back to her, and she hurriedly did up one of the buttons, horrified at the thought that he had seen everything.

  Her face was still pink when he eventually turned around to face her and leant against the sink, his hands in his pockets, his feet loosely crossed at the ankles.

  ‘No, you’re not a fool, Suzie Stanton. Anything but.’ They stared at each other. The overhead light was harsh and it made the planes and angles of his face seem even harsher.

  If she had stopped and thought about it, she would have just found somewhere else and left, without flinging accusations at him, but she hadn’t been thinking straight. It seemed to be a problem for her whenever he was around.

  There was a long silence between them. ‘Have you eaten tonight?’ he asked, and she nodded.

  ‘A salad.’

  ‘Another salad?’

  He was trying to lighten the atmosphere. Had he felt the same thing that she had? That sudden shift into dangerous, unknown waters?

  ‘I’m trying to lose some weight. I think I’ve told you that before.’

  ‘There’s such a thing as being too thin.’

  ‘Is there? Not according to most fashion magazines. Or most clothes shops, come to that.’

  There was something brittle about their conversation and she was relieved when he took those watchful eyes off her and she could sit back down, rather shakily.

  ‘Look,’ she began, tracing patterns on the table with her finger, ‘I’m not sulking, or being childish, but I’m old enough to realise that my pr
esence here might pose a problem for you.’

  ‘In what way?’

  ‘You’re being deliberately obtuse. You have a personal life. I’m not a complete fool. And I know that my presence here will eventually get in the way of that personal life. If it hasn’t already.’ She wasn’t going to mention Angela. She was sick of getting mixed messages. Was he sleeping with her or wasn’t he? Angela implied that there was something there—something rather more than the boss and his faithful worker. She was sick of it gnawing away at the back of her mind like a persistent little parasite that wouldn’t give up.

  ‘Don’t concern yourself with my personal life. Do I concern myself with yours?’ His voice was mild, but his eyes had an amused glitter in them. Personal life? she wanted to say. Children don’t have personal lives, do they?

  ‘You will tell me, though, the minute you want me out, won’t you?’ she said grudgingly. ‘Not that I intend making this an indefinite stay, but I won’t rush into another place which should be condemned, if I don’t have to.’

  ‘Very wise.’

  She threw him a watery smile and stood up. Confrontation over. Time to return to her bedroom, where she felt much more comfortable anyway. He might find it perfectly acceptable for her to wander around as though she owned the place, but she didn’t and she wasn’t about to abuse his hospitality. More to the point, he didn’t find himself thrown into confusion every time she walked in, did he? Whereas, Suzanne thought in a muddled way, her mind started wandering whenever he was around.

  ‘Going so soon?’ he asked softly as she walked past him, and she stopped to look at him.

  ‘Well, I did only come in so that we could discuss this...this matter.’

  ‘And what are you going to do in your bedroom that’s so important?’ he asked.

  ‘Finish my book,’ she answered.

  ‘Sounds exciting.’ There was lazy charm in his voice and she should have been alarmed and cautious at that, but she had never been able to resist him when he was in this mood and she was finding it very difficult to do it now. ‘Come into the sitting room and talk to me instead. It’s been one hell of a week.’