The Rich Man's Reluctant Mistress. Margaret Mayo

      ‘So—tell me about yourself,’ he said, his eyes finally moving up to her face, narrowing sharply when he observed the tip of her tongue moistening her lips.

      Lucinda hoped that he didn’t take it as a sign of encouragement. Her mouth had gone nervously dry and the butterflies in her stomach intensified. Heaven knew how much she wanted to dislike this man, so why didn’t she? What was it about him that caused every one of her senses to go into overdrive?

      ‘There’s not much to tell,’ she answered, alarmed to hear how husky her voice sounded. Damn the man! Why was he confusing her like this? Or, more importantly, why was she allowing it? Why was she letting him affect her?

      Because he was one hell of a sexy man, that was the answer. She couldn’t help herself. She didn’t want to like him but was constantly pulled towards him in a cycle that would be difficult to break.

      Zane probably took it for granted that most women, if not all, would fall at his feet. He could bed any woman he liked. But she didn’t have to be one of them! Without any shadow of doubt she would need to be on her guard at all times.

      ‘Your mother’s remarried. What happened to your father?’

      ‘He died,’ she answered bluntly, trying to hide the pain that still shot through her whenever she spoke about him.

      ‘I’m sorry. How did that happen?’

      ‘He’d been ill a long time. It was inevitable,’ she told him, while knowing that he didn’t really care.

      ‘I’m genuinely interested,’ he assured her, reading her expression. ‘I’m interested in people. I like to find out what motivates them. I already know that you don’t like your stepfather.’ Lucinda frowned and sat up just a little bit straighter. ‘I didn’t tell you that.’

      ‘No, but you gave the impression.’

      ‘Actually, it’s true.’ Her shoulders relaxed a little. ‘I hate him, and the feeling’s mutual—except that he doesn’t let my mother know it. And I hate my mother for marrying him simply for his money,’ she added bitterly.

      ‘She did that?’

      ‘It’s what many women do,’ she retorted, her eyes shooting sparks of angry fire. ‘Not that I have any intention of falling into that same trap! I’ll make my own money, thank you.’

      Zane pursed his lips and nodded his head. ‘Wise woman! We’re two of a kind, you and I.’

      Lucinda frowned. She knew what he meant but she didn’t like being lumped into the same category. She would never spend her money on lavish houses all over the world, not if she had a thousand million in the bank. Such extravagances didn’t appeal. The fact that people did it, and needed the likes of her to improve their interiors, was a different matter altogether.

      ‘So—tell me about your father,’ he said encouragingly. ‘How old were you when he died?’

      Lucinda pursed her lips and her eyes grew sad. ‘Fifteen. I was heartbroken. He’d spent most of his life in and out of hospitals; we didn’t have any money, but he more than made up for it. There was always love and laughter in our house. I was so happy. What I didn’t know was that my mother gradually resented the fact that we were poor.

      ‘After my father died she met Goldberg, a very wealthy property developer. She shamelessly threw herself at him and within a few months they were married. We moved from our tiny rented property into his palatial mansion. He paid for my higher education; I appreciate that, but he will never replace my father. He was the most wonderful man.’

      Tears misted her eyes and instantly Zane leaned forward and gathered her into his arms, dabbing her eyes with his handkerchief, murmuring words of reassurance. At first Lucinda didn’t resist; she actually felt comforted by his action, but then the reality of the situation hit her.

      This man had employed her to do a job, and he was in the same league as David Goldberg; there was no way in this world that she was going to have an affair with him. He may have been only consoling her, but that wasn’t the point. She had seen the hungry look in his eyes; she knew his reputation. If she weren’t careful she would end up in his bed.

      ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, straining to pull away. ‘It always gets to me when I talk about my father. If he knew what my mother had done he’d turn in his grave. He loved her so much. Love was all he had to give. And he gave it in bucketfuls.’ Tears welled again.

      Zane pushed her head into his shoulder and held her there until she began to feel better. He stroked her hair, which had become free from its restraining tie. It amazed Lucinda that a man as important as Zane Alexander should have this caring side to him. It was totally unexpected.

      Unless, of course, it wasn’t because he cared! Maybe he was using her distress as a way of getting through to her? Maybe he thought it would lead to other things? Even as the thought occurred to her Lucinda pushed her hands hard against his chest. ‘I’m all right now.’

      ‘Are you sure?’ He blocked her escape by cupping her face between warm firm hands. There was something almost primeval in his eyes as they locked with hers, a desire as old as man himself, and Lucinda felt unwanted warmth steal into her. It started in her toes and gradually worked its way through each limb until her whole body raged with fire. This was a situation she had told herself she would avoid at all costs. This was Zane the playboy in action. And already her needs were being fuelled by his closeness.