His Secretary Mistress

by Chantelle Shaw

  ‘In you get, then.’ He opened the car door to allow her to scramble inside with more haste than dignity, and he frowned as he spied the haunting vulnerability in her eyes. ‘Do you feel all right? You look very pale.’

  ‘I’m fine.’ She couldn’t avoid his gaze when he cupped her chin and tilted her face, the gentle concern she could see mirrored in his blue eyes causing tears to burn behind her eyelids.

  She looked achingly fragile, and Alex felt a curious pain in his chest as he noted the smudges beneath her eyes and the droop of her mouth.

  ‘I’m just tired, that’s all. I didn’t get much sleep last night.’

  ‘Spare me the details.’ He released her chin abruptly, but as she turned away he caught sight of a purple bruise on her temple, noting the way she quickly shook her head so that her hair covered the mark. ‘What have you done to your head? You’re hurt.’

  ‘It’s nothing.’ She shied away as he pushed her hair back. ‘I walked into a door. I’m notoriously clumsy,’ she added with a feeble laugh.

  Hitting her head on the doorframe was the truth, but she couldn’t reveal that Lee had stormed into the house and had knocked into her—deliberately, she was sure—and that she had cracked her head so hard she had literally seen stars. During her marriage Lee had never been deliberately violent, but he was spiteful, and she had suffered numerous accidents—like the time he had slammed a car door and broken two of her fingers.

  Alex stared at her in silence, filled with a sudden surge of anger. The bruise on her forehead had not resulted from any accident, he was certain of it, and her tension, the way she avoided his gaze, only reinforced his suspicions.

  ‘Is your husband annoyed about the trip? I could talk to him.’

  ‘No! Leave it, Alex, please. There are a lot of things you don’t understand.’

  A heavy silence filled the car, and Alex had to force himself to keep within the speed limit until they reached the motorway, then he gunned the engine, exorcising his frustration with sheer speed.

  ‘Why are we going to Paris?’ Jenna asked, desperate to break the taut silence. For some reason Alex was furious, his pent-up aggression an almost tangible force, his jaw rigid, although the expression in his dark eyes gave nothing away. ‘Maybe you should fill me in on a few details.’

  ‘Sebastian Vaughn is an old friend,’ he explained heavily. ‘We were at university together, and at the moment he’s staying in Paris with his French grandmother. It’s Madame Roussel’s eightieth birthday party tomorrow, and obviously Seb doesn’t want to miss it, but I need to go over a few things with him before his case goes to court on Friday.

  ‘Seb is married to Ellisa Trent, the famous model,’ Alex continued. ‘On the surface they appear to be the golden couple who have it all, but the reality is that they’ve spent the last five years trying to have a child. Ellisa has suffered numerous miscarriages, but this time her pregnancy was going well—until a photographer from the paparazzi chased her relentlessly, demanding an interview. In her desperation to escape she stumbled into the road and was hit by a car.’

  Jenna gasped. ‘Was she badly hurt?’

  ‘At first it was feared she would lose the baby. Seb is a mild-mannered politician, a rising star of the opposition party renowned for his pacifist views, but faced with his wife’s injuries, and possibly the loss of his child, he saw red. He attacked the photographer and smashed his camera, and now he faces charges of assault and criminal damage.’

  ‘So you’re defending him,’ Jenna murmured. ‘But presumably his actions were witnessed and the photographer will testify against him? It’s a desperately sad story, but what defence can there be?’

  ‘I need to prove that there were mitigating circumstances for his behaviour, which was completely out of character. If Seb gets a criminal record his political career will be over. Some sections of the media act with complete disregard for decency. Just because Seb and Ellisa are in the public eye, they’re deemed a legitimate target for the tabloid press, and the law does little to protect their privacy.’ There was a harsh edge to Alex’s tone and Jenna shivered, glad that she would never have to face him in a court. He would make a formidable adversary.

  ‘It’s obviously a subject that’s close to your heart,’ she remarked, and he nodded.

  ‘Fortunately Ellisa and the baby are okay, but I sympathise with Seb. He was only doing what any man would do—protecting the woman he loves.’

  ‘Do I detect a streak of romanticism?’ Jenna queried lightly, aware of a curious pain in her chest at the image Alex’s fierce words evoked. How wonderful it must be to be loved and protected in the way he described. ‘I would never have imagined it of you, Alex.’

  Alex shrugged. ‘Perhaps it is old-fashioned, in these days of equality between the sexes, but I would lay down my life if I had a wife and child to protect. I believe that marriage is a lifetime commitment,’ he added quietly, ‘especially when children are involved.’

  ‘You don’t think there are any valid reasons for divorce?’ Jenna queried, struggling to disguise the bitterness in her voice.

  She too had believed in the sanctity of marriage—and she had done her best, hadn’t she? Had stuck with Lee when most women would have given up on him? But Lee had shared very different views from Alex’s, and love had been an illusion quickly shattered. In the end she had been the one to demand an end to her marriage, but Lee had walked away without a second glance and had taken little interest in his daughter. His sudden decision to renew contact with Maisie had come out of the blue, and she was suspicious about his motives for getting in touch.

  ‘Of course there are valid reasons for ending a marriage,’ Alex murmured, throwing her a curious glance. ‘And domestic violence must top the list.’

  His fingers tightened round the steering wheel and he had to force himself to concentrate on the road ahead as he remembered the bruise on her forehead, the way she hung her head so that her hair swung across her face in an effort to hide the injury. She looked pale, her body as taut as an overstrung bow, and he wanted to pull into the nearest lay-by, stop the car and draw her into his arms. Something was seriously wrong with her marriage, he knew it instinctively, but he couldn’t force her to confide in him.

  She was watching him now, her eyes huge and wary, and he knew she would hate him if he voiced his suspicions that her husband had hit her. It was nothing to be ashamed of, damn it, but she was fiercely proud and would never forgive him for intruding on her private life. All he could do was bide his time and hope to win her trust—but that in itself was laughable when he couldn’t look at her without wanting her.

  The journey continued in silence, and Jenna stared unseeingly out of the window, lost in her thoughts, until Alex murmured, ‘Here we are,’ and she realised that they had turned off the main road and swung through the gates of a small private airfield.

  ‘I assumed we would be flying from Gatwick,’ she said in surprise. ‘Where are we, exactly?’

  ‘Elstree Aerodrome. I keep my plane here.’

  ‘Your plane!’ She didn’t know what she had been expecting—a uniformed pilot and a private jet, possibly. Certainly not the small twin-engine Cessna that Alex pointed out. For a moment all her worries about Maisie and her ex-husband were forgotten. ‘I’m not flying to France in that.’

  ‘I’m a fully qualified private pilot.’

  ‘I don’t care if you’re the Red Baron. I hate flying at the best of times, and that thing looks like an egg carton with wings.’

  ‘Jenna!’ It was amazing how much persuasive charm he could infuse into her name. His voice was as rich as clotted cream, the expression in his eyes warm and gently teasing as his bad mood evaporated. ‘I thought you were a brave tigress, don’t disappoint me now.’

  ‘Why a tigress?’ she stammered. Faced with his beguiling charm, she felt as daring as a jellyfish—and it had nothing to do with her fear of flying.

  He shrugged his shoulders eloquently, seeming suddenly big and ov
erpowering in a very small car. ‘You don’t seem to be afraid of anything. You stand up for yourself. You certainly give as good as you get with me.’

  Was there a touch of admiration in his voice? He was a strong-willed man; perhaps he liked women who mirrored that strength? Suddenly she was a tigress. What was so different between a commercial jet and a light aircraft anyway? As long as it went up and stayed up!

  ‘Okay, I’ll give it a go,’ she agreed, and was rewarded with a smile that took her breath away, the curve of his mouth a sensual invitation that she longed to accept.

  ‘You’re a star, gorgeous.’ He was so relaxed, so different from the hard-faced barrister she had grown used to, and his throwaway compliment caused goosebumps to prickle her skin.

  She stood by the plane and watched him complete his pre-flight checks. He was a man who was way out of her reach, and in his eyes she was a married woman. It was time she started to act like one.

  ‘Why do you have to waggle the wings?’ she queried nervously. ‘Are they likely to fall off?’

  ‘Of course not. Come on—in you get.’ There was a high step into the plane and he simply lifted her off her feet and deposited her in the cabin. ‘It’ll be fun, trust me. If you get scared I promise I’ll hold your hand.’

  ‘Just keep your hands on the steering wheel, or whatever it is.’ She glanced around the cockpit at the levers and dials and shuddered; the tigress was feeling as weak as a kitten!

  It was claustrophobic in the small cockpit, and Jenna couldn’t quell her feelings of panic as Alex handed her a headset and taxied the plane to the runway. Trust me, he had urged, and she found that she did so utterly. There was an air of strength about him, of dependability, and she was sure he would pilot the plane with the same level of expertise that he did everything else, but even so she screwed her eyes shut as they rose into the air.

  ‘That wasn’t so bad, was it? You can look now.’ His hand curled around both of hers, offering moral support, but the clasp of his strong fingers burned her skin and did nothing to steady her racing heart.

  Cautiously she peeped from beneath her lashes to see the fields and trees spread like a colourful patchwork of autumn hues, the houses already the size of a model village. It was a beautiful day, the sky a cloudless blue, and she let out a shaky breath and gradually relaxed.

  ‘Want to take the controls?’

  ‘Absolutely not!’

  Her eyes were like saucers and he grinned and squeezed her hand. ‘It’s really not difficult. Maybe I’ll do a couple of loops.’

  ‘Don’t you dare! Alex, promise me. I just want to go in a straight line. No clever stuff.’

  She could become seriously addicted to the sound of his laughter, the way his eyes crinkled at the edges and his mouth curved, she thought as her heart lurched in her chest. She could become seriously addicted to him. And with a determined effort she wriggled her hands from his grasp and concentrated on the scenery below.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  PARIS was everything Jenna had imagined: elegant, exciting—and romantic, she added to her list with a groan of despair. Paris was a city for lovers. Everywhere she’d looked during her brief sightseeing trips with Alex there had been couples wandering hand in hand, young lovers kissing with unrestrained passion in the shadow of the Eiffel Tower.

  She was always glad to return to the hotel, where their meetings with Sebastian Vaughn had provided a break in the unspoken tension between her and Alex. Glad too that she had been bullied into buying her new clothes, she conceded. The hotel was an oasis of discreet grandeur that exuded wealth, and she shuddered to think of the pained glances she would have received had she worn her ill-fitting suit.

  That evening, as she slipped into her black evening dress, ready for Sebastian’s grandmother’s party, her confidence rose by several notches. The dress was deceptively simple, but the exquisite cut of the material, the way it sheathed her body, more than warranted its exorbitant price tag. Despite its simplicity it was an overtly sexy dress, something she hadn’t appreciated when she had tried it on, and for a moment she quailed at the way the neckline dipped to reveal a daring amount of cleavage, her breasts full and pale against the black silk.

  Hearing her knock on the interconnecting door to his room, Alex took a deep breath before he swung away from the window and the night-time view of Paris.

  ‘I’m ready—on time too. You did say seven.’

  ‘So I did.’ For a second he was unable to disguise the flare of hunger in his eyes, but almost instantly his lashes lowered and when he looked at Jenna again his expression was cool and aloof. ‘You look charming, I like the dress.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Jenna murmured, instantly deflated.

  What had she expected? she chided herself. She had wanted to wow him, the insidious voice in her head prompted. She had wanted him to find her gorgeous and irresistible, but instead he had shown no more than polite interest in his married secretary.

  During this trip he had gone out of his way to be charming, determined to show her as much of Paris as possible in spite of spending a lot of time working on Sebastian Vaughn’s defence case. He had been a witty and entertaining companion, friendly yet remote, and she had been aware of an unspoken tension that sizzled between them. On several occasions she had looked up to find him watching her with eyes as dark as midnight, but each time he had quickly averted his gaze, as if embarrassed that he had been caught out. She was not obtuse, no inexperienced virgin, and she recognised the heat of desire he was so determined to deny, and shared his hunger.

  She was tempted to tell him the truth about Lee, but something held her back. To reveal that she was divorced would pave the way for what, exactly? An affair? Perhaps not even that. Perhaps just a one-night stand while they were swept away by the atmosphere of the world’s most romantic city.

  ‘Shall we go?’ He sauntered across the room and proffered his arm with a nonchalant ease she could only admire, and the shiver that ran the length of her body had little to do with the cool night air.

  In his black dinner jacket and white silk shirt he looked devastatingly handsome—a fact that did not pass unnoticed by just about every woman in the room when they arrived at Madame Roussel’s magnificent apartment. He would turn heads wherever he went, Jenna acknowledged bleakly. She was not the only woman to be turned on by his raw masculinity. But she hoped she hid her response a little better; several of the female guests were positively salivating.

  ‘Alex, I’m so happy to see you again.’ Sebastian’s grandmother held out her hand and smiled as Alex lifted it to his lips. ‘It is a grand occasion, do you think, my eightieth birthday?’

  ‘You look magnificent, madame, I can hardly warrant the years.’

  ‘And you are such a flirt.’ Eyes as clear and bright as those of a woman half her age sparkled with pleasure, and Clotilde Roussel’s welcoming smile encompassed Jenna. ‘So, you are going to help my grandson, Alex? Do you think you can save him from the consequences of his momentary madness?’

  ‘I’ll do my best,’ Alex assured her, but Madame Roussel’s rather haughty expression crumpled.

  ‘Sebastian is a good man, a gentleman in the true sense of the word. His only crime is that he adores his wife and wanted to protect her from the intrusions of the paparazzi. He was driven to desperate actions and now he stands to lose not just his career but also his good name. I know you will do everything in your power to help him, Alex. Ellisa is not with us tonight,’ Madame Roussel continued. ‘Seb refused to allow her to travel, with the baby due so soon, and I know he is impatient to get back to her, but this court case is looming and he is so worried. Perhaps you can persuade Sebastian to forget his problems for one night.’

  It was an amazing party, Jenna thought as she glanced around the packed room, almost blinded by the array of diamonds on display. The cream of Parisian society was present—the men uniform in black dinner suits while the women vied for attention in their couture dresses. It was hard not to be overw
helmed, and she was grateful for Alex’s imperturbable presence by her side, the ease with which he drew her into conversation with the other guests.

  She had discovered Sebastian Vaughn to be a gentle, soft-spoken man, his handsome face etched with lines of strain, his black hair already sprinkled with silver. Mindful of Madame Roussel’s plea to help her grandson forget his problems for the evening, Jenna had done her best to help him relax, had chatted animatedly with him and persuaded him onto the dance floor. And she had been successful, Jenna decided with a satisfied smile, as she studied Seb’s more relaxed features. During the course of the evening they had enjoyed several glasses of champagne, and their laughter, the way they sat with their heads close together, sharing a joke, had drawn comments from the other guests. Alex had managed to keep his thoughts to himself, but it was a close thing, he conceded as he watched Jenna lead his old friend onto the dance floor again. The tempo changed and Jenna slotted into Seb’s arms and smiled up at him, seemingly oblivious to anyone else as they moved in perfect accord to the music. Jealousy was a rancid emotion, Alex discovered as he contemplated striding across the dance floor, wrenching Jenna away and rearranging Seb’s good-looking features with his fist. Seb was one of his closest friends, for God’s sake, a man who patently adored his wife, and Jenna had a husband—although it appeared that she had momentarily forgotten that fact.

  ‘Seb, will you object if I steal my secretary for a moment?’ Alex had been inundated with willing partners on the dance floor, and it had been relatively easy to manoeuvre a change-over, but Jenna immediately stepped away from his arms and smiled apologetically.

  ‘Actually, I’m dying for a drink.’ Anything was better than suffering the torture of dancing with Alex, praying that he didn’t hear the pounding of her heart or notice the way her pulse raced. It would be agonisingly embarrassing if he should guess how much she wanted to rest her cheek against his chest, draw his head down and be kissed senseless.