His Mistress for a Week

by MELANIE MILBURNE

  ‘Even better,’ he said. ‘No method is completely fool-proof other than sterilisation or abstinence.’

  Clem put her hurt aside. She didn’t want him to pull back, to have second thoughts about becoming involved with her. She had to toughen up. Not be so darn sensitive. This was a fling; it wasn’t a romantic courtship with a wedding and church at the end. She reached for him again, stroking him, drawing him to her body where the slow, burning ache of her desire had resumed. ‘Make love to me.’

  He gently separated her with his fingers, stroking her desire, making sure she was ready for him before he carefully inched inside. Not thrusting right in, but taking his time, allowing her to adjust to his thickness and length, gauging her reaction as he went a little deeper, gradually increasing his pace until she found his rhythm. Her body welcomed him, grasped him, greedily drawing on him until they were rocking together in a frenzy of escalating excitement. It was intense. Frantic. She felt him try to slow down but she wouldn’t let him. She urged him on, panting, clawing at his back and shoulders as the sensations built inside her like a tsunami gathering speed. The delicious wave broke over her in a rush of feeling that transported her into ecstasy. A brilliant, earth-shattering ecstasy that left her body as limp as a puppet with severed strings.

  Clem felt his release come close behind hers. The tension in his body, the infinitesimal moment when he was poised on the precipice, and then the free fall as he pumped his way to paradise in great shudders that reverberated through her body like a resounding echo.

  She had never felt so close to someone. The joining of their bodies had a level of intimacy beyond that of mere sex. Their bodies had communicated, read each other, pleasured each other, delighted each other. Respected each other.

  Alistair rolled her with him so they were lying face to face, his hand taking a tendril of her hair and winding it around one of his fingers. His eyes drifted to her mouth, his expression turning rueful. ‘I’ve given you stubble rash.’

  Clem cupped his prickly jaw with her hand. ‘I’m sure I’ll survive.’

  His eyes searched hers. ‘Was I too rough? Things got a little hectic there towards the end.’

  She shook her head. ‘It was perfect. I never thought it could be that good.’

  He traced her mouth with his finger. ‘You were amazing.’

  ‘Once I got over myself.’ Her tone was self-deprecating.

  He pushed up her chin to keep her gaze trained on his. ‘Sex is a little like dancing. Some people just don’t work well together. They step on each other’s toes and make all the wrong moves. But when a couple are in tune physically it’s something else.’

  Clem wondered how many women he’d been ‘in tune’ with. She could hardly hope she was the only one he’d felt that magical connection with. That was just plain dumb. ‘Just to warn you, I’m a rubbish dancer.’

  His mouth tilted in a soft smile and he drew her closer. ‘Then that’s another thing we can sort out this week.’

  Clem rested her cheek on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. ‘Do you think the kids are going to suspect we’re...having a fling?’ Why was saying that phrase so hard?

  ‘I’m not sure. You seem to know more about teenagers than me.’

  Clem looked up at him. ‘Would you mind if they did?’

  His expression was impossible to read. ‘They’re probably too focussed on their own fling to notice ours.’

  It wasn’t really an answer. Did that mean he would only show her affection in private? That in public they would be just like any other acquaintances? Would she be his dirty little secret? His naughty little peccadillo? She curled back against him before he could read the conflict playing out on her face. ‘I’m not sure Jamie will take too kindly to finding out you’re sleeping with his big sister.’

  He turned her so she was lying underneath him again, his legs in a sexy tangle with hers, his eyes glinting with sensual promise. ‘Who said anything about sleeping?’

  * * *

  Clem opened her eyes to bright sunlight and sore muscles. She gave an experimental stretch and winced as her intimate core protested. Alistair came in with a tray with two cups of tea on it and frowned when he caught the tail end of her grimace. ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘Nothing.’ She shifted her gaze. ‘I think I slept awkwardly.’

  He put the tray down and came to sit beside her, taking one of her hands in his. ‘Are you sore?’ His tone was achingly tender, his expression full of concern.

  Clem knew she was blushing; she could feel it riding up her cheeks from her neck. ‘Only a little. I’ll be fine once I move around a bit.’

  His fingers stroked the underside of her wrist. ‘I’m sorry.’

  She gave him a twisted smile. ‘Another apology? You’d better watch it, or I’ll stop thinking you’re an arrogant know-it-all.’

  He held her gaze for a long moment and then looked down at their joined hands, a frown pulling his brows together. ‘I’m not sure why I agreed to this.’ His thumb moved over her leaping pulse, stilling there as if measuring it. ‘Last night was...’

  ‘Don’t insult me by calling it a mistake,’ Clem said. ‘We’re consenting adults. We both know the rules.’

  His gaze came back to hers. ‘You deserve more than this. Much more.’

  ‘And I’ll get it once I get my confidence where it needs to be.’ If only I believed that. ‘I really enjoyed last night. You were the most amazing lover. But it doesn’t mean I want to get married and have babies with you. We’re from different worlds. It would never work.’

  He released her hand and reached for the tray he’d put down. ‘I made you some tea. I’ve booked a table downstairs for breakfast. I texted Harriet to tell her to meet us here in an hour.’

  Clem looked at the white cup. ‘I can’t drink that.’

  His frown reappeared. ‘Why not? I made it fresh. There was a kettle and tea bags in the cupboard near the mini bar.’

  ‘It’s in the wrong cup.’

  ‘But these are the only cups... Oh, your cup.’

  ‘I know you probably think it’s completely ridiculous, but I—’

  ‘It’s fine.’ His hand came down on hers and gave it a squeeze. ‘Where is it? In your bag?’

  She swung her legs off the bed, wincing again when she reached for a bathrobe. ‘I’ll get it.’

  Clem went to her room but her mug wasn’t where she’d left it on the bedside table. A surge of panic rose in her chest. Where was it? She swept the room with her gaze, her breathing becoming more laboured when she could see no trace of it. She started riffling through her clothes in the wardrobe, tossing things out of the drawers. Her heart had gone from a mild flutter to a wild flapping, like a frightened bird was trapped in one of her heart valves.

  Alistair came in behind her. ‘Can’t you find it?’

  Clem turned on him with an accusing glare. ‘Did you move it? Did you?’

  ‘No, of course not.’

  Clem did another frenzied search of the room. ‘I have to find it. I have to. I have to. I have to.’

  Alistair took her by the upper arms to steady her. ‘Slow down, ma petite. Take some deep breaths.’

  Clem tried to pull away. ‘Don’t tell me how to breathe! You don’t understand. You can’t possibly under—’

  ‘Listen to me.’ His tone was both commanding yet gentle. ‘We’ll find it, okay? I’ll help you look for it.’

  Clem pulled herself together with an effort. At least he wasn’t mocking her. He was supportive and patient and...and making it even harder for her to keep her traitorous emotions in check. She let out a slow, uneven breath. ‘Okay...’

  He kissed the middle of her forehead. ‘Good girl. Now, where did you see it last?’

  She pointed to the table beside the bed. ‘I—I left it there.’

  He searched all around the bedside table, crouching down to check under the bed. He rose to his feet with a puzzled frown. ‘It can’t have vanished into thin a
ir... Hang on a sec. What about housekeeping? Have they been in since we went out to dinner?’

  Clem’s heart gave another painful spasm. ‘They’ve thrown it out. Oh God, they’ve probably tossed it in the rubbish! It’s probably smashed into pieces!’

  He put a stabilising hand on her arm. ‘Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. I’ll give them a call.’ He reached for the phone by the bed and conducted a brief conversation in fluent French. He put the phone down again and smiled. ‘All sorted. Your mug will be back in a few minutes. The housemaid was a little too efficient.’

  A short time later the mug was delivered to the door on a silver tray with effusive apologies from the housekeeping staff. Alistair tipped them generously and handed Clem the mug. ‘Voilà. Mademoiselle’s mug safely returned without a chip.’

  Clem took it with hands that weren’t quite steady. ‘Thank you... I know you probably think I’m crazy but I’ve had this since I was sixteen. Jamie bought it for me with his pocket money he’d saved for ages when I know for a fact he desperately wanted to buy himself a toy car. It’s the thing I treasure most.’

  ‘I don’t think you’re crazy at all,’ Alistair said, leading her back to the bedroom where the tea tray was situated. ‘I have a teddy bear Ollie gave me when he was born. Well, my mother bought it for him on his behalf to stop me being jealous of his arrival. I still have it. I’ll always treasure it, so I completely understand.’ He transferred the tea into her mug and handed it to her with another smile. ‘There you go.’

  ‘How severe was his disability?’ Clem asked. ‘Would he have lived a normal life if he hadn’t got sick?’

  ‘He had a brain injury from birth. It caused some mental retardation and some mobility problems. He might not have lived a totally normal life but he was a happy little kid and would’ve made the best of it. I would’ve made sure he got the most out of life.’

  Clem could just imagine how devoted Alistair would be. Strong and dependable, always doing the right thing, not letting anyone get in the way of his mission to protect and care for those he loved. It was what she had secretly admired about him ten years ago. His loyalty to his mother was something she had never seen before. Most of the men she’d been exposed to had no respect for the women in their lives. But he had gone to his mother’s bedside day after day, doing all he could to make her last days on earth as comfortable and peaceful as possible.

  Not that Clem’s mother had helped, of course. She still cringed when she thought about how her mother had taken it upon herself to visit Helene to assure her Lionel was being ‘taken care of’, or words to that effect. Her mother had no social intelligence, very little sensitivity and certainly no decorum. ‘Do you have any photos of him?’ she said.

  ‘Not on me, but at my house in London I have a few,’ he said. ‘My father got rid of a lot of them after my mother died. Before she died, actually. My mother told me not long before she died that my father had cheated on her before, in the months after Oliver was born, and then again when he died. I hadn’t known that before then. I’d always thought they’d had a pretty solid relationship. Just shows you can never know what goes on in a marriage.’

  Clem was starting to realise why Alistair was wary about rushing into commitment. He hadn’t had the best role model in the world. ‘I never liked your father from the first moment I met him. I don’t know how you can speak to him. Do you speak to him?’

  ‘He’s busy with his own life. I’m busy with mine.’

  Clem could imagine how painful it must be for Alistair to spend time with his father. How could he respect a man who had acted so appallingly? So selfishly? ‘Why did your mother forgive him the first time? I would’ve sent him packing.’

  He stroked her cheek with a lazy fingertip, his mouth in a crooked slant. ‘One strike, you’re out?’

  ‘You bet.’

  ‘My mother was a very gracious person. She always gave people the benefit of the doubt. All she ever wanted was a happy family life. She was prepared to overlook almost anything to get it.’ He patted her on the top of her bent knee. ‘We’d better get a move on. The kids will be here soon. I hope.’

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CLEM WALKED INTO the hotel restaurant with Alistair a short time later. Jamie was seated with a girl Clem assumed was Harriet. Her blond hair with its vivid pink streaks was tied back in a knot on the back of her head, giving her a ballerina look, and her skin was as white and pure as cream. She had big hazel eyes that looked defiant and uncertain at the same time.

  Clem went straight to her and offered her hand. ‘Hi, you must be Harriet. I’m Jamie’s sister, Clem. How are you enjoying Monte Carlo? Isn’t it an amazing place?’

  Harriet’s slim, pale hand slipped into Clem’s and her face broke into a smile that made her look even more classically beautiful. ‘Hi. Jamie’s told me all about you. I’m so glad you came.’ She threw Alistair a black look. ‘He won’t listen to me. I’m not going to boarding school, no matter what he says.’

  Clem could see a little negotiation wasn’t going to go astray but it would take time and trust. Meanwhile, Jamie was eyeing Alistair with a combination of suspicion and dislike.

  ‘Let’s sit down and have breakfast,’ she said in the interests of world peace. ‘Now, Harriet, tell me about your job. Jamie said you’re working in a fashion store. Which one?’

  It wasn’t hard to draw Harriet out, but the conversation between Jamie and Alistair was like putting two stones together and expecting a litre of blood to come out. Jamie kept looking at Alistair and then at Clem, his eyebrows bunched together in a brooding frown. Alistair’s expression was less readable, although his body was tense, and he barely touched any breakfast other than a long black coffee and half a croissant.

  After the waiter came to take some of the plates, Clem smiled at Harriet and Jamie, who were sitting hand in hand. ‘So, you guys look pretty well sorted to me. You’ve both got good jobs for the summer and your accommodation sounds fine. Alistair will pick up his car and Jamie will pay back the money he borrowed in weekly instalments. We’re going to hang around a few days just in case you need us, okay?’

  Jamie’s face screwed up. ‘You’re hanging around with him?’ His tone made it sound like she was going to hang around with an axe murderer.

  Clem hoped her cheeks weren’t looking as warm as they felt. Every time Alistair’s gaze met hers she felt her insides coil at the intimacy they’d shared last night. She wondered the kids couldn’t see it. Or maybe they did. Yikes. ‘I haven’t had a holiday in ages and Harriet tells me there are a couple of great curio and antiques shops in Nice. I might find some rare-edition books for my boss. It’ll be like a treasure hunt.’

  Jamie gave Alistair a look that would have sent the Yowie monster ducking for cover. ‘If you so much as lay one finger on my sister I’ll—’

  ‘My sex life is none of your business,’ Alistair said with a steely glint in his eyes. ‘Nor is your sister’s.’

  Jamie swung his gaze to Clem’s. ‘Are you sleeping with him?’

  So much for keeping their involvement a secret. Alistair might as well have taken an ad out in The Times. Clem knew she was probably giving a very good impression of a fish tossed out of its fishbowl, but it took her a moment to regain her composure. ‘Erm...you heard what Alistair said—it’s not really your business.’

  Jamie looked a little shamefaced. ‘Look, I’m sorry about all the trouble I caused. I didn’t know you guys were seeing each other. I hope I haven’t made things awkward for you, sis.’

  ‘Of course not,’ Clem said. ‘Alistair’s very understanding, aren’t you?’

  ‘Very.’

  ‘Of course we won’t tell anyone,’ Harriet said, also looking a little sheepish. ‘I’m sorry, Alistair. I’ve been such an awful pain for you. Maybe if you guys move in together I could come and live with you. That’d be so cool.’

  Oh, the tangled web we weave. Clem smiled behind clenched teeth and reached for the basket of pastries on t
he table. ‘So, that’s all sorted, then. Anyone for another croissant?’

  * * *

  Alistair kept his arm around Clem’s waist once the teenagers had gone. ‘That seemed to go surprisingly well.’

  ‘You think? But I thought we were supposed to be keeping our involvement a secret?’

  ‘I’m not having an upstart teenager tell me who I should or shouldn’t sleep with, for God’s sake.’ He steered her out of the restaurant towards the lifts. ‘And nor should he be telling you what to do.’

  ‘I know but—’

  ‘But nothing, Clem,’ he said. ‘You’re an adult and entitled to a private life. You did well with Harriet. She seems to listen to you. You might be able to convince her boarding school is her best option.’

  Clem followed him into the lift. ‘She seems like a nice kid. I’d like to spend some time with her. But could you ease up on Jamie a bit? You’re not going to win him over by giving him the evil eye all the time.’

  Alistair stabbed at the button for their floor. ‘I’m not interested in winning him over. All I’m interested in is getting my car and money back.’

  Clem cocked her head to one side. ‘So why didn’t you call the police first up? Why’d you involve me when you could have fast-tracked him to the authorities?’

  His gaze was trained on the numbers as they rose one by one to their floor. ‘I’m aware he hasn’t had the best upbringing,’ he finally said. ‘You’ve done the best you can, but he needs a male role-model. Someone who’s stable and reliable. Someone who’ll stand up to him and for him.’

  Clem’s heart lifted in hope. ‘Are you offering to mentor him?’

  The doors of the lift opened and Alistair took her hand and led her out. ‘I’ve already got one teenager I didn’t ask to be responsible for. I certainly don’t need another.’

  ‘He wants to work in hospitality,’ Clem said when they were back in their suite. ‘It’s the first time I’ve heard him mention a goal. He’s always drifted before this. I really want him to make a go of this. Spending the summer working here is perfect. He’ll be away from the rough crowd he’s been hanging out with and Harriet seems a good influence. She brings out his protective side.’