His Mistress for a Week

by MELANIE MILBURNE

  Brandi always needed new clothes because she’d had to leave her old ones at some boyfriend’s place and he wouldn’t allow her back to get them. Or she was behind with the rent or electricity or gas bills. Or she needed money for food because she’d given her last pound or two to a friend in need. If Clem didn’t give her mother money she would have to live with the worry about the lengths Brandi would go to get some. There had been occasions when some of the men her mother had brought home made Clem suspicious. She couldn’t bear the thought of Brandi turning tricks in order to keep a roof over her head. If it meant Clem had to do without now and again, it was worth it to keep her mother off the streets, so to speak.

  Clem quickly transferred some money into her mother’s account and sent her a text message. She debated whether she should tell her about Jamie’s escapade but decided against it. Her mother wouldn’t see it the way Clem saw it. Her mother would encourage Jamie to follow his heart and passions. Anyway, there was no way was she calling her mother while Alistair was within hearing distance. That would be the ultimate in embarrassing.

  She came out of her room to find Alistair checking his own phone. ‘Any news from Harriet?’

  He slipped the phone into his pocket. ‘No. Have you heard from your brother?’

  Clem wouldn’t have told him if she had. How could she trust him not to call the police even now? It would be even worse trying to organise legal help in a foreign country. She wanted to find Jamie first so she could talk to him without Alistair interfering. Her brother had a thing about authority figures and they didn’t come more authoritative than Alistair Hawthorne. ‘No.’ She sat down and put her feet up on the coffee table. ‘I’m bushed. When do we eat?’

  He scooped up his jacket from the back of a chair. ‘We’ll eat later. I want to scope out the area around the casino to see if we can catch a glimpse of them. Come on.’

  Clem dragged herself from the squishy sofa like she was ninety-nine-and-three-quarter years old. With osteoarthritis. ‘Aren’t you forgetting something? Harriet is under age. Security would never let her into the casino without legit ID.’

  He held the door open for her. Pointedly. ‘Harriet’s friend is in regular contact with her. She told me Harriet and Jamie are still in Monte Carlo but are leaving for Italy tomorrow. They’re heading to Livorno along the coast.’

  A little feather of suspicion tickled the back of Clem’s neck. ‘Who is this friend?’

  A frown pulled at his brow. ‘Some girl Harriet goes to school with. Jenny...no, Jenna. Why?’

  Clem gave a lip-shrug. ‘Just asking.’

  He closed the door and faced her squarely. ‘Tell me what you’re thinking.’

  Clem kept her expression masked. ‘I’m not thinking anything.’

  His frown got deeper until there was no space between his ink-black eyebrows. ‘You think she’s giving me a false lead?’

  ‘Maybe.’

  ‘But why?’

  Was this guy for real? ‘Don’t you know anything about teenage girls?’ Clem said. ‘How close is this friend Jenna to Harriet?’

  ‘I assume reasonably close, otherwise why would Harriet be texting her?’

  ‘Then why would Jenna betray that closeness by snitching to you about Harriet’s whereabouts?’

  His expression clouded. ‘Because she’s worried about her running off with a boy she’s only just met?’

  Clem shook her head at him as if he had just failed an important exam. ‘I think Harriet is telling her little friend what to tell you.’

  His brows snapped back together. ‘But why?’

  ‘Teenagers love that whole “star-crossed lovers” thing. Jenna’s probably loving the fact she’s responsible for the young lovers escaping all those mean old people intent on breaking up their love.’

  His face contorted with scorn. ‘Love? Is that what you call it? They’re a couple of kids who should still be in school. For God’s sake, what would they know about love?’

  ‘Teenagers feel intensely about lots of things, especially their first love,’ Clem said. ‘It’s a defining moment. Don’t you remember what it was like, or were you always this staid and boring?’

  The look he gave her would have wilted a plastic flower. ‘Do you have any idea where your brother would take Harriet? Any idea at all?’

  Clem screened her expression but the probe of his storm-cloud gaze made her uneasy. Queasy uneasy. ‘Why would I? He never talks to me about anything. He mostly just grunts at me when he’s at home, which isn’t often.’

  He swung away to plough a hand through his hair so hard, Clem thought he was going to scalp himself. ‘This is freaking ridiculous,’ he said. ‘We’ve come all this way for nothing. Those kids could be anywhere by now.’

  ‘Which is why I was against coming all this way without doing all the checks and balances first.’

  ‘Well, I’ll be damned.’

  Clem looked to where he was standing in front of the window, looking out on the street below. ‘What?’

  He gestured with his hand for her to join him without taking his eyes off the street below. ‘Look.’ He pointed to an indoor-outdoor café near the casino entrance opposite their hotel. ‘That girl sitting on the outside table closest to the casino. See her? The blonde one?’

  Clem was having trouble concentrating with Alistair’s arm practically around her shoulders as he guided her to his line of vision. She was dazed by his closeness. Intoxicated by that strong, warm wall of his body standing shoulder to shoulder with hers. Drugged by the citrus notes of his aftershave swirling with sensual allure around her nostrils. ‘Erm...which one? There are about twenty blondes out there.’ All stunningly beautiful and model-slim. Of course.

  His firm, large hand cupped her around her shoulder and drew her flush against his side. ‘The one with the pink streaks. See? She’s looking at her phone.’

  Clem’s eyesight, even with glasses, wasn’t of a find-a-needle-in-a-haystack type. From this distance she could barely make out the tables and chairs. ‘If that’s Harriet then where’s Jamie?’

  ‘Good question.’ He dropped his hand from her shoulder and captured her hand instead. ‘Come on. Let’s go find out.’

  Clem would have liked a little time to prepare herself for the beautiful people crowd of Monte Carlo. She was sticky from travelling, her hair was defying the restraints she had put on it and her clothes were wrinkled as if she’d slept in them, which she had, come to think of it. ‘Can’t I have a shower first?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘But what if it’s not Harriet? That girl down there could be her doppelgänger. You can’t tell for sure from way up here. You could be mistaking her for someone else and get arrested for accosting her.’ Clem was clutching at enough straws to build her own haystack. ‘Do you really want that sort of fuss? Can you imagine what the press would make of that? World-famous architect tries to kidnap young woman from Monte Carlo café. That wouldn’t win you any posh awards, now, would it?’

  Alistair’s grip on her hand tightened. ‘That’s my stepsister, and it’s my guess your brother isn’t far away, which is why you’re coming with me.’

  Clem kept tugging at his hold, throwing in a churlish scowl for good measure. ‘You don’t have to be such a flipping caveman about it.’

  His fingers loosened without releasing her. The warmth of them encircling her wrist made something hot and moist bloom between her legs. His eyes met hers. Held them in a strange little lock—not weird strange, sexy strange, like he was thinking of what it would be like to close the already small distance between their bodies and press his mouth to hers. Clem moistened her mouth and watched as his gaze dipped to follow the track of her tongue.

  Time stood so still it felt like the world had been put on pause.

  Tick.

  Tock.

  Stop.

  But then he muttered a curse and pulled back as if she had breathed a dragon’s tongue of flame at him. ‘It’s not going to work, Clementine. Save you
r seduction routines for someone else. I’m not interested.’

  Clem let out an incredulous snort. ‘You think I’m trying to seduce you? You? Don’t make me laugh.’

  He opened the suite door, impatience, frustration and irritation etched in every muscle on his face. ‘We’re wasting valuable time. Out.’

  She hitched up her chin. ‘You can’t order me about like I’m some sort of serf. I’ll walk out that door when I’m good and ready.’

  His eyes hardened to chips of grey-blue ice. ‘If you don’t walk out this door on the count of three then—’

  ‘Then what?’ Clem leaned up close, placing her hands on the steely frame of his chest where she could feel his heart pounding. Boom. Pitty. Boom. Pitty. Boom. His eyes darkened until they were more pupils than irises. His hands encircled her wrists, the fingers digging into her flesh, leaving searing hot fingerprints that made her blood race. It made his blood race too, for she could feel the tension in his lower body where it was touching hers, thigh to thigh. The swell of his arousal was unmistakable against her thigh, a potent reminder of the erotic volatility of their current relationship.

  ‘Then this,’ he said and crushed his mouth to hers.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CLEM HADN’T INTENDED to respond to Alistair’s kiss but as soon as his lips met hers something happened to her willpower. It dissolved like a piece of paper dipped in battery acid. His mouth was blisteringly hot. Determined hot. I-want-to-have-sex-with-you right-now hot. This wasn’t a kiss she was likely to forget in a hurry. This was a kiss she was going to be thinking about, reliving, for the rest of her life. His tongue drove between the seam of her lips like a searching probe. He called her tongue into combat. A duelling combat of two strong wills, each striving for the upper hand.

  It was thrilling. It was enthralling. It was dangerous.

  Clem knew she was outclassed. Seriously outclassed. It was like being put in a chess game with a grand master without any idea of the rules. Kissing with a pair of horn-rimmed glasses on was so not cool. But she couldn’t take them off as he still had her hands imprisoned. She kissed him back with all the fire in her soul she had suppressed for so long. It came out in every stab and dive of her tongue, every nip and scrape of her teeth, every nudge and stroke of her lips against his.

  He deepened the kiss with a low, primal-sounding growl and pushed her back against the wall, holding both her hands either side of her head, caging her in with his body. His erection was rock-hard against her belly. It drove her girly bits wild with the need to have him even closer. Desire was not something she felt all that often. Not like this. Not with such unstoppable force. She wanted to rip his belt out of his trousers, jam that zipper down and take him in her hands; to feel him swell and pulse around her. To feel him drive into her moist emptiness and make her forget about the shame of her first time, the disappointment of her second and third.

  This was what she wanted to feel. Alive. Vibrantly alive, as if every corpuscle of her blood was swelling and spinning and singing with delight.

  But just when she was thinking about reaching for his belt Alistair released her. The let-down was like being dropped over the side of a vertiginous cliff. Her legs crumpled as if her knees had suddenly been unbolted.

  ‘That should never have happened.’ His lips were pressed so tightly together the words came out like he was spitting out lemon pips.

  Not, That was the most amazing kiss of my life, but, ‘That should never have happened.’

  Nice to know she’d made such a big impression.

  Clem repositioned her glasses and then rubbed at her wrists, giving him a resentful look that belied every cell in her body aching with sexual frustration. ‘So am I to assume it won’t happen again?’

  His expression was mask-like, unreadable, all except for that dark glitter of unrelieved desire in his eyes. ‘You’d like it to, wouldn’t you? I’d be quite a scalp to hang from your bedpost. One you’d like to crow about to your mother. She had the father. You’re after the son.’

  Clem gave a scoffing laugh. ‘You’re unbelievable. There are lots of things I would never discuss with my mother, and my sex life is right at the top of that list. But you can rest easy, Alistair. I’m not interested in a hook-up with you. I’m over sleeping with men who don’t see me as their equal.’

  He didn’t answer. He held the door open with a look that brooked no resistance. Clem wasn’t sure she was up to another round with him. Her body was still tingling from the last one. She needed time to regroup, to get her resolve back in full working order. There was one thing she knew for certain. Kissing Alistair Hawthorne was dangerous. Dangerous and way too exciting for a girl who had no right to be dreaming of happy-ever-after. Not with him. Not with a man who could have anyone he wanted. He didn’t want her. Not really. She was part of his revenge plot. He had only insisted she come with him so he could gain access to her brother. Her priority was to keep Jamie safe.

  Whatever it took.

  * * *

  Alistair berated himself for kissing Clem. What had he been thinking? He hadn’t been thinking—which was the trouble in a big, crinkly nutshell. He had gone on instinct—an instinct that was way outside his normal way of doing things. Clem was right. He had acted like a caveman. He had lost all rational thought as soon as his mouth had met hers. Her beautiful, soft, sexy mouth. The sexy little mouth he was going to have trouble forgetting. The sexy little mouth he had never forgotten.

  Damn it. It was imprinted on his like a brand. He could still taste her, the sweetness of vanilla and milk with a pinch of cinnamon. Her body, too, was not something he was going to forget in a hurry. The way her curvy breasts had been crushed up against his chest. The way her hips had been in such erotic contact with his. He had been close to letting all of his standards drop and taking her then and there. He wondered now how he hadn’t. He had been going on primal automatic.

  Scarily, horrifyingly primal.

  All he had wanted was to drive into her hot, moist flesh until she screamed and convulsed with pleasure. His body was still thrumming with the need she had activated. She only had to look at him with those sultry eyes and he was a goner. What was it about her that did that to him? Was it because he considered her taboo? The one woman he wouldn’t have because of his father’s trashy affair with her mother?

  Or was it because Clem personified what he most avoided in a casual relationship? Connection. He didn’t connect with his lovers. Not in any other way than physically. Sex was fine. Emotion was not. Becoming emotionally involved set up tripwires he could do without. Tripwires that could catch him off-guard when he least expected it. He had seen first-hand the devastation of love gone wrong. His mother had suffered more from the break-up of her marriage to Alistair’s father than the cancer that had eventually killed her. It had destroyed her emotionally while the cancer had destroyed her physically. It had been unmitigated torture to witness it. No words could have soothed her pain. There hadn’t been a drug potent enough to dull the excruciating ache of rejection.

  Alistair had nothing against falling in love per se, but not with Clem. He didn’t trust his control button around her. His life was fine the way it was—or at least, it would be, once he got Harriet safely back home and packed off to boarding school. Which was another thing that freaked him about Clem. She had totally distracted him from his mission of tracking down his stepsister. Had it been deliberate? A stalling tactic to stop him from racing down to that café?

  Of course it was. Clem was street-smart. Tactical. She was an expert at playing games. She might think she could look at him with those big Bambi eyes and have him go weak at the knees. His knees would have to man up quick smart because there was no way he was going to let her win this.

  No way.

  * * *

  Clem was feeling more and more out of place. The café was crowded and the streets even more so with high-season tourists. She felt like a homeless person showing up at Paris Fashion Week. Her clothes were stick
ing to her in all the wrong places. Her wrong places. Even though she was within the normal weight range, she still felt like an elephant in a leotard. Her hair was plastered to her forehead and the back of her neck. The bit of make-up she’d applied earlier that day had melted in the humid summer heat. She wiped at her eyes and was dismayed to see black streaks of mascara come off on her hand. Great. Now she was a panda as well as an elephant.

  Alistair was scanning the café but a family of five now occupied the table where the girl had been sitting. The mother and father were smiling at something one of the cute little kids had said. Clem tried to ignore the little stab of jealousy she felt at witnessing the happy domestic scene. The way the parents looked at each other, as if to say, ‘Aren’t we amazing to have produced such gorgeous kids together?

  It made Clem think of all the times she had been dragged to restaurants or cafés with her mother and her numerous boyfriends. No one had ever looked at her like those parents were looking at their children. Her mother had mostly ignored her while she flirted and batted her eyelashes at her new lover. The lover would throw Clem a wish-you-weren’t-here look that her mother never seemed to notice. It had made Clem all the more snarly and morose. And it had made her over-eat. She would order the most expensive and calorific things on the menu and chomp them down in sulky defiance.

  Alistair let out a curse. ‘Damn it. She’s gone.’ He turned to face her tellingly. ‘Which is what you wanted, wasn’t it?’

  Clem arched her brows. ‘Oh, you think I let you kiss me as some sort of distraction technique?’

  ‘Why did you let me kiss you?’

  ‘You didn’t give me much choice.’

  He glanced at her wrists where her hands had unconsciously gone to rub them. His brows drew together and he reached for her right hand and turned it over to examine the faint redness marking her skin. His thumb moved over the skin in a barely touching caress, his face flinching as if she had slapped him. ‘I’m sorry.’ His voice was gruff, as if he had swallowed a mouthful of gravel.