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His After-Hours Mistress
AMANDA BROWNING


Determined not to become another notch on her boss's bedpost!When her boss, Rourke Adams, approaches her with an after-hours assignment, Ginny is stunned. Rourke wants her to pretend to be his girlfriend for a whole week!Rourke has chosen Ginny because he considers his employee strictly off-limits. But sparks fly when they're forced together, and Ginny becomes his after-hours mistress…. Is this just a no-strings affair, or does Rourke have another longer-term assignment in mind?









“I need you to go to my sister’s wedding with me…as my lover.” Having broached the subject, Rourke quickly regained his composure.


“What?” she gasped out, sure she must have misheard somehow.

“I want you to attend the wedding with me.”

She had that part—it was the other she took exception to. “As your lover?”

Rourke hastily held up a hand to forestall the protests he knew were hovering on her lips. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. I need you to pretend to be my lover….”


It used to be just a nine-to-five job….

Until she realized she was






Now it’s an after-hours affair!






Getting to know him in the boardroom…

and the bedroom!

Coming soon:

The Parisian Playboy

by

Helen Brooks

Harlequin Presents #2352

On sale in October




His After-Hours Mistress

Amanda Browning















CONTENTS


CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN




CHAPTER ONE


GINNY HARTE jumped at the sudden sound of a crash from the office next door, and glanced round to frown at the closed door which linked the two offices. As far as she was aware, her fellow director of the family-owned chain of hotels, Roarke Adams, was still at lunch. Her fingers paused over the keypad of her PC as she waited for another noise. There followed the distinct sound of something large, probably the wastepaper basket, hitting a wall. An unholy grin slowly spread across her face. All had not gone well, it seemed. What a shame. Couldn’t have happened to a nicer guy, she thought, with a wry grimace.

Pushing back her chair, she rose gracefully to her feet, walked round the desk and headed for the closed door and the momentarily silent room. She was tall, even without her three-inch heels. Slim yet curvaceous, she had flashing green eyes, and the tempestuous nature her thick swathe of red hair indicated. Experience, however, had taught her to keep it in check and now, at the age of twenty-six, she presented a cool, calm demeanour to the outside world.

She had worked alongside Roarke Adams for a little over a year now, ever since his grandfather, the owner of the hotels, had hired her to co-ordinate the modernisation and decorating of the various properties. All other aspects of the business fell into Roarke’s court, but when he bought a new property it was up to her to decide what was needed to bring it into line with the other hotels. When he did his regular tours of the hotels she went with him to oversee any planned redecoration, and they had a surprisingly good working relationship. Which was nothing short of amazing considering the fact that they didn’t actually like each other.

It had taken under a month for them to sum each other up and decide the other was wanting. Battle lines had therefore been drawn and their verbal exchanges had become a source of much interest and amusement to the staff. Skirmishes occurred on a daily basis unless one or other of them was out of the office. Roarke never missed an opportunity to get in a dig at her and, as she had never been one to refuse a fight, she gave as good as she got.

She knew he thought she had ice-water in her veins instead of blood. He didn’t believe she had an ounce of passion in her whole body, and wouldn’t know what to do with a real man. He viewed Daniel, her boyfriend, with open mockery because he was everything Roarke was not. Loyal, steadfast, undemanding. OK, so it wasn’t a passionate relationship, but Ginny had trodden that path once, allowing her passions to rule her head, and it had led to disaster. It wasn’t a road she intended to travel again. Daniel was what she wanted now, and she was pretty sure he was going to propose soon. When he did, she had every intention of accepting him.

If her lifestyle was a joke to her co-director, his was only worthy of her scorn. Roarke, in her opinion, was little more than an unprincipled womaniser. Women went in and out of his life in a more or less constant stream. Like a modern-day Casanova. Any woman who came within range was fair game to him, and even the strongest of them turned to jelly when he looked at them with his glittering eyes and disarming smile. It wouldn’t surprise her in the least if he didn’t carve a notch on his bedpost for every woman he seduced.

Though she didn’t care for his love-them-and-leave-them lifestyle, she knew he was generous and knew how to treat a woman well, whilst his interest remained. And, to be fair, he never approached married women, or those who were otherwise spoken for. Roarke had a code of sorts. He only played the game with those women who knew the rules, and he never became involved with the women who worked for him. His life had two distinct areas, and the one only spilled into the other when she had to console the latest cast-off. A job she did not enjoy.

She had made her disapproval clear but, rather than taking offence, Roarke had been amused by it. He had mockingly informed her he wasn’t going to be reprimanded by a strait-laced harridan. So it had begun, and that was the state of affairs between them now as she reached the connecting door. A wise woman might have drawn back, but Ginny recognised an opportunity when it presented itself. There was no way she could work on without knowing what had happened, so she reached for the door handle.

Pushing the door open, she had to duck hastily as an object hurtled in her direction. Straightening up, she stared down at the pencils which littered the floor around her like so much strange confetti, then back at the man who now stood immobile by the desk.

Honesty compelled Ginny to admit Roarke was, without doubt, the best-looking man she had ever seen. At thirty-two he was in his prime. Tall and leanly muscular, he had thick black hair, roguishly laughing grey eyes, and a mouth that could quirk into a smile to take the breath away. Right this minute, though, he wasn’t smiling. On the contrary, his expression most closely approximated thunderous. It caused her lips to twitch.

‘Nice lunch?’ she enquired jauntily, and caught his fingers flexing as if he wished they were around something—like her neck.

His fine nostrils flared as he took a steadying breath. ‘No, I have not had a nice lunch. In fact, I’ve just had the worst few hours of my life!’

‘Don’t tell me some little air-head actually had the sense to say no to you,’ she drawled with heavy irony, and in a lightning mood swing he grinned at her.

‘I don’t date air-heads, sweetheart. I much prefer intelligent women; you know that,’ Roarke drawled back, watching through glittering eyes as she squatted down and began to collect up the pencils. The process caused her skirt to ride up her thighs. ‘Nice legs,’ he murmured approvingly, then as she shot a narrow-eyed glare his way he changed tack. ‘Did I hit you?’ he asked with less than genuine concern, and Ginny snorted as she retrieved the holder and stood up again.

‘No, but I might just hit you if you don’t keep your eyes to yourself,’ she warned as she set the holder on the nearest bookcase and folded her arms.

‘It’s your own fault for being so easy on the eye. A man just can’t help himself,’ he told her ironically.

He was flirting with her, a tactic he had used from time to time when he wanted to irritate her more than usual. She ignored it—as usual. ‘Well, a man had better try,’ she added firmly.

Roarke slipped his hands into the trouser pockets of his fashionable Italian designer suit, and rocked back on his heels. ‘You’re a hard woman. Does anything get through to you? Do you feel passion? Do you even know what it is? What about Daniel? How does that relationship work? Is he even allowed to kiss you, or does he go home each evening aching with frustration, whilst you sleep soundly in your virginal bed?’

Ginny kept her cool and raised her eyebrows at him mockingly. ‘You don’t really expect me to answer that, just because you’re in a foul mood?’

‘No, I expected you to up and slap my face. Why didn’t you?’

She gave him an old-fashioned look. ‘Probably because it was what you wanted,’ she responded dryly and he laughed.

‘You’re learning, sweetheart. There’s hope for you yet,’ he taunted as he sauntered over to the window and looked out at the city below them.

‘I’m not your sweetheart, Roarke. It isn’t a situation I would ever aspire to occupy,’ Ginny countered, though she didn’t expect it to have any more effect than her previous attempts to have him stop calling her by the affectionate term.

He glanced over his shoulder at her. ‘A man could get frostbite trying to warm you up. Daniel has all my sympathy.’

Ginny silently ground her teeth at his insolence. ‘Fortunately, Daniel doesn’t need it,’ she said, which caused him to smile.

‘No, he’s pretty much a cold fish himself.’

She looked at him steadily. ‘I don’t find him in the least bit cold. There’s a lot to the old adage that you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover.’

‘Which could equally apply to me, sweetheart,’ Roarke pointed out, but Ginny immediately shook her head.

‘Oh, no, you’re an open book, Roarke. Everyone knows the plot where you’re concerned. The wise ones put you back on the shelf,’ she retorted mockingly, whereupon his eyes gleamed with mischief.

‘Maybe, but the ones who don’t have a much better time.’

Ginny shook her head sadly. ‘You’re incorrigible, and I have more important things to do with my time than waste it bandying words with you,’ she told him bluntly, and made to leave, but Roarke held up a hand to forestall her.

‘That can wait. Shut the door and sit down. I need to talk to you,’ he commanded. His words were without a trace of his earlier mockery, and yet carried an edge of unease. Sensing something intriguing in the air, Ginny dutifully closed the door.

‘I thought you didn’t consider me qualified to be an agony aunt,’ she remarked as she stepped over various objects which had borne the brunt of his temper.

‘One of these days you’re going to cut yourself on that tongue of yours!’ Roarke warned her. ‘Doesn’t anything blunt it?’

‘If you’re after sympathy, you’ve come to the wrong woman,’ she told him matter-of-factly. ‘Just because you didn’t get your own way for once, there’s no need to destroy the place. So you met a woman with a brain cell or two. It was bound to happen some time.’

Roarke tutted reprovingly. ‘You know something, Ginny? You’re fixated with my love life. Who said this has anything to do with a woman?’

Now that did surprise her. Roarke was like a magnet for women. He didn’t look dressed without one on his arm. That didn’t mean to say he didn’t work hard at the business. It wouldn’t be among the top in its line if he didn’t. But he played hard, too. She had listened to his tales of woe before, and a woman generally entered the picture at some point. But apparently not this time, if he was to be believed.

‘It doesn’t?’ she queried, brows rising. If she had done him an injustice, then she was prepared to apologise, however much it went against the grain. She was about to open her mouth to do just that when his eyes fell away from hers and he rubbed an irritated hand around his neck.

‘Actually, it is about a woman, but not the way you imagine,’ he admitted reluctantly.

Intrigued by the palpable signs of his discomfort, Ginny slipped into the nearest chair and crossed her legs, decorously smoothing down the skirt of her violet-coloured suit. She had discarded the jacket earlier, and wore a simple cream silk sleeveless blouse for comfort in the oppressive summer heat.

‘What do you imagine I’m imagining?’ she challenged, her eyes following him as he walked to his leather chair and sank into it with a heavy sigh.

‘The worst. You usually do,’ Roarke shot back dryly, and Ginny laughed softly.

She spread her hands deprecatingly. ‘Well, you’ve only yourself to blame for that. You’ve never had to console one of your exes. The tales I’ve heard make me shudder to think of them.’ She gave a delicate shudder by way of example.

‘Don’t believe everything you hear. It isn’t my fault if they got their hopes up. I never promised them for ever,’ Roarke pointed out in his own defence.

‘That’s what I told them. He isn’t a one-woman kind of man. You’d be better off cutting your losses and looking around for someone with more staying power,’ Ginny agreed.

His brows rose at that, and then he laughed. ‘You’re referring, I take it, to that part of my life which I, clearly mistakenly, consider private. Hasn’t anyone ever told you you aren’t supposed to interfere in your employer’s love life?’

‘Your love life ceases to be private when you live it so publicly. Why, scarcely a day goes by when you aren’t photographed with one woman or another hanging on your arm! Your little black book must be bursting at the seams by now,’ she protested scornfully.

Roarke steepled his fingers and looked at her over them. ‘If I had one, which I don’t.’

‘No little black book? I don’t believe it. Your sort of man always has one!’

‘And just what sort of man is that?’

Ginny waved a hand airily. ‘The sort who changes his woman as often as he changes his clothes.’

He tapped his thumbs together broodingly. ‘I suppose a denial is out of the question?’

She shook her head. ‘Hard to accept when I’ve seen the results of your handiwork.’

Roarke rubbed a finger down the bridge of his nose, then glanced at her sardonically. ‘You disapprove of everything about me, don’t you?’

‘Not everything, just your treatment of women.’

‘You make me sound like some sort of playboy.’

‘Your affairs are well catalogued in print,’ she reminded him.

He clucked his tongue at her. ‘The women you see me photographed with are, for the most part, old friends. I’m often invited to events where I require a partner, and I’d rather take a woman I know than find myself seated next to a stranger. We spend an enjoyable evening together, and then I take her home. End of story.’

Ginny looked sceptical. ‘You can’t mean to tell me all your dates end so tamely,’ she scoffed, and he grinned wolfishly.

‘Not at all, but that’s my business, not yours.’

She couldn’t argue with him there. She was walking a fine line as it was. However, there was one thing she was curious about. ‘Haven’t you ever considered finding one woman and sticking to her? Haven’t you ever been in love?’

That brought a mocking laugh from him. ‘No, and I don’t ever expect to be. In my experience, happy ever after is just a fairy tale, sweetheart,’ he pronounced and she blinked, genuinely surprised.

‘You don’t believe in love?’

‘What most people fall into is lust, though they prefer to give it the name love because it sounds better.’ Seeing her frown, Roarke leant forward across the desk. ‘I respect women for who and what they are. I enjoy them, but I don’t make promises I can’t keep, and I refuse to dress up the relationship as anything more than what it is.’

Ginny supposed she had to think well of him for that, but it was strange to her to hear him speak that way about love. Despite her own experiences, she still believed in love. She had just made the wrong choice, that was all. This time she wasn’t about to let herself be blinded by passion into thinking love existed. Daniel was everything she wanted in a man, and she was sure that her liking for him would grow into love in the fullness of time.

‘Don’t you intend to get married and have children?’ she couldn’t help but ask curiously.

Sitting back again, Roarke shrugged. ‘Sure, one day, but love will have nothing to do with it.’

‘Your wife might disagree.’

‘The woman I marry will know that she has my respect and loyalty. If and when I make a vow, I’ll never break it. I only intend to get married once.’

‘Sounds to me like you’ve had a nasty experience. What caused you to get so disenchanted with marriage?’

‘Over-familiarity. My father has been married four times and my mother is currently on her third husband. Both swore it was love each time, but as soon as the passion faded, they headed for the divorce courts. I have brothers and sisters dotted around the globe from their various forays into the wedded state.’

Not exactly good role models, she agreed. ‘It doesn’t have to be that way for you.’

He shrugged. ‘It isn’t going to be. I intend to honour my vows—when I make them.’

‘I’m pleased to hear it, but have you heard the one about leopards not changing their spots?’ she gibed.

Roarke smiled. ‘There’s always an exception to the rule, sweetheart.’

‘True, but I haven’t seen any flying pigs recently,’ Ginny mocked.

He gave her a long look for that, to which she smiled sweetly and he grunted, ‘I should have fired you months ago. Lord knows why I didn’t.’

‘Because it isn’t in your power to do so. Your grandfather hired me, and only he can fire me,’ she told him confidently, only to see him give a crocodile smile.

Tugging at the knot of his tie, he pulled it free and loosened the buttons of his shirt. ‘On the contrary. I could fire you at a moment’s notice. However, you’re damn good at your job. You’ve a good eye for colour and style, and we’ve heard nothing but acclaim for what you’ve done so far.’

His praise gave her a warm glow inside, though she didn’t let him know it. ‘Would this be a good time to ask for a rise?’ she asked, tongue-in-cheek, and he grinned appreciatively.

‘You’d probably get it, too. A good worker is worthy of her hire.’

Ginny wasn’t greedy. She had had a rise only a short while ago. The company rewarded its workers for their efforts without prompting, and she had received her share. That was enough for her. ‘Don’t worry, I have no intention of taking you up on that. So, what did the poor wastebasket do to incur your wrath?’

Reminded of what had happened earlier, Roarke let his expression become rueful. ‘It grinned at me.’

Vastly amused, Ginny smiled. ‘Grinned at you?’

‘Knowingly,’ Roarke confirmed.

‘Ah,’ she nodded wisely, knowing the feeling. ‘Lunch was not a success.’

His laugh was scornful. ‘To put it mildly. Which is why I need your help.’

Her mind was rioting with questions. Ginny reined them in. ‘Things must be bad if you need my help.’

‘You have no idea!’

Ginny waited for more, but when none came she frowned. ‘Are you going to tell me, or is it a game of twenty questions?’

Roarke took a deep breath and swung his chair round so that he was facing her. ‘My sister’s getting married at the weekend.’

Whilst interesting, it was not quite what she was expecting. ‘I’m sure I’m pleased for her, but what’s that got to do with me?’

His eyes flashed sparks at her interruption. ‘I was coming to that. I’ve been invited.’

It occurred to Ginny that he was uneasy about asking her for whatever it was, and that was quite unlike the usual confident Roarke Adams. Bemused, she nodded. ‘OK, that was to be expected, but I still don’t see what that has to do with me.’

There followed a momentary hesitation, then he took the bull by the horns. ‘I need you to go with me…as my lover.’

That took the wind out of her sails like nothing else. ‘What?’ she gasped out, sure she must have misheard somehow.

Having broached the subject, Roarke quickly regained his composure. ‘I want you to attend the wedding with me,’ he repeated.

She had that part; it was the other she took exception to. ‘As your lover?’

Roarke hastily held up a hand to forestall the protests he knew were hovering on her lips. ‘I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. I need you to pretend to be my lover.’

Ginny felt as if she were gaping at him like a fish, her mouth opening and closing repeatedly but nothing coming out. She shut her mouth with a snap of teeth and took a steadying breath. ‘You have to be joking!’

‘I only wish I were. Believe me, I wouldn’t be doing it if it wasn’t important.’

Instinctively she knew that was true. Neither would seek help from the other unless business was involved. But what he was asking was out of the question. ‘What about what’s-her-name, the brunette you’re dating? Why don’t you ask her to help?’ That would be the ideal solution.

The question had him grinding his teeth again. ‘She was going to go with me, but as we are no longer an item, I’m left without a partner.’

Ginny stared at him, aware that there was a story he wasn’t telling her, and he wasn’t going to get away with keeping it to himself if he wanted her help. Not that she was promising anything. ‘What happened?’

Roarke’s fingers tapped out an irritated tattoo on the desktop. ‘She informed me at lunch that her stars told her the weekend was a bad time to travel, so she wouldn’t be going. I told her only an idiot would believe such rubbish.’

Ginny winced. ‘Bad move,’ she pronounced sympathetically and he grimaced.

‘Tell me about it! The upshot was she took offence. Apparently, her stars also said it was a good time to end relationships that were going nowhere.’

‘Oh, dear!’ Ginny commiserated, biting back a laugh.

Sensing it, he sighed ruefully. ‘I know, I know. Things went from bad to worse. Which brings me to you. Will you help me out?’

‘Why me?’ Ginny asked, spreading her hands questioningly. ‘Why not ask one of those women who aren’t in the little black book you haven’t got?’

She got some idea how serious the situation was when she didn’t get a smart comeback to her remark. ‘Because most of them are known to the family, and I need someone who is a complete stranger. Grandfather won’t be there and he’s the only person that knows you.’

‘Now, that you’ve simply got to explain,’ she insisted.

His reluctance was palpable. ‘It’s complicated. There are…family complications.’

Family complications covered a multitude of sins, as she knew only too well. As an explanation, it fell way short of the mark. ‘You’re going to have to come up with a better reason than that if I’m to help you,’ she declared bluntly, and his eyes snapped to hers.

‘Does this mean you’re going to do it?’ he wanted to know.

Ginny shrugged, kicking herself for the slip. ‘It means I’m thinking about it,’ she conceded. Families were a touchy subject. Her inclination, due to her own experience, was to help if an injustice was being done, but otherwise she preferred to keep out of it. Roarke was going to have to do some fancy talking. ‘Just tell me, Roarke. Whatever you say, and whatever my decision, nothing is going to go outside this room.’

He looked at her for so long a time she thought he would refuse, but then he nodded. ‘OK, listen up. My latest stepmother’s name is Jenna. When she was still my father’s fiancée, she thought it would be fun to make it with father and son. To put it bluntly, she did her best to seduce me. Contrary to your beliefs, I don’t sleep with every woman I meet. I especially do not get involved with those attached to my own family. Jenna did not take kindly to my refusal to play the game with her. She went running to my father with the tale that I had tried to force myself on her. Naturally, I denied it, but my father has always been jealous of his women, and he chose to believe her rather than me. The consequence was that he refused to talk to me for the better part of three years.

‘We are back on speaking terms now, but the relationship is still fragile. Which brings me to the problem. When I visited him recently on his birthday, Jenna started getting up to her old tricks again. I managed to fend her off without upsetting my father, but I know how she works. If I turn up alone, she’ll try again, and heaven alone knows what my refusal will lead to this time.’

Ginny studied his grim face and sympathised with his dilemma. ‘Perhaps if you were to go to your father first, this time he would react differently,’ she proposed, without any real expectation of that happening. Her own experience with her father had taught her that they didn’t change that easily.

Roarke grimaced. ‘I thought about it, but I can’t take the risk. I decided my best option was to arrive with a woman on my arm. That way Jenna will have to keep her distance.’

‘And if she doesn’t, I’ll be there to ward her off?’ she murmured, following his line of thought easily. Roarke looked at her sharply.

‘Will you be there?’

Ginny glanced down at her hands. Though he didn’t know it, he had her. When it came to families she had her own vulnerabilities, which made it virtually impossible for her to walk away from helping someone else. She didn’t want what had happened to her to happen to Roarke, whether she liked him or not.

‘I must be crazy to even consider it,’ she sighed as she raised her head.

‘But you’ll do it?’ he urged hopefully, and she rolled her eyes.

‘Yes, I’ll do it,’ Ginny confirmed, and was instantly consumed by doubts. But it was too late to back out. She had given her word, and it was a matter of honour with her that she kept it. Ever since the man she had trusted had abandoned her after making all sorts of promises, she had vowed that any she made she would keep, no matter what.

Roarke’s famous smile appeared, but there was no glitter of satisfaction in his eyes at having won her over, only gratitude. ‘Thank you, Ginny. You’ve probably no idea what you’ve done, but you’ve just saved my relationship with my father from total meltdown.’

She understood better than he thought, but that was another story. ‘Just remember you owe me one.’ She dismissed his thanks uncomfortably. ‘So, what time is the wedding, and how are we getting there?’

‘Saturday afternoon, so if we fly out Friday evening, we’ll have some time to settle in before the ceremony,’ Roarke obliged, sending a shock wave through her.

‘Fly out? What do you mean, fly out?’ she demanded to know, sitting up straighter. ‘Just where is this wedding taking place?’

‘Switzerland. Lake Constance, to be exact. At my mother’s summer residence. You’ll like it there,’ he declared confidently.

Ginny ignored that last point and concentrated on the first. ‘Switzerland! Damn you, Roarke Adams, you said nothing about the wedding taking place abroad. You know darn well I thought it was in this country!’ she remonstrated with him.

Now there was a gleam in his eye as he grinned at her. ‘I thought you’d refuse to go if you knew.’

Ginny ground her teeth helplessly. She might well have refused, but the die was cast. She had given her word and that was that. Getting to her feet, she glowered down at him. ‘You are an impossible man. You don’t just owe me, you owe me big time,’ she pronounced, then promptly spun on her heel and headed for the door.

‘Ask for anything you like, and it’s yours,’ Roarke called after her.

She halted but didn’t turn round. ‘Anything?’

‘Just name it.’

A catlike smile curved her lips. ‘Very well, I’ll get back to you when I’ve made up my mind,’ she agreed, closing the door behind her. Roarke Adams was about to find out her help didn’t come cheap.




CHAPTER TWO


GINNY went out to dinner with Daniel that evening. She liked him a lot, but it wasn’t always easy to enjoy his conversations, because he could be rather stuffy. He could also, though it pained her to admit it, be something of the cold fish Roarke thought him. Tonight, though, she had to work extra hard to concentrate whilst he told her about his terrible day. Unfortunately, Ginny’s thoughts were miles away, and that irritated her, because she didn’t like the fact that Roarke kept floating into her mind. Thankfully, Daniel didn’t appear to notice her distraction, and she made a concerted effort to be more attentive whilst they waited for their desserts.

When Daniel reached across the table and took her hand, she smiled at him just a little curiously, because he wasn’t a ‘touching’ sort of person.

‘I have a surprise for you,’ he declared with boyish enthusiasm, and Ginny’s heart suddenly leapt into her throat as she wondered if this was to be the moment he proposed.

‘You have?’ she asked a tad breathlessly, whilst mentally she prepared herself for what she would say in response. The surroundings could have been more romantic—the restaurant was chosen for its convenience, not its ambience. ‘What sort of surprise?’

Daniel’s smile broadened at her apparent eagerness. ‘My parents have invited us both to their place for the weekend. When I told them how wonderful you are, my mother insisted that she had to meet you. I know she’ll adore you as much as I do.’

Ginny tried her best to hold on to her smile, but she could feel it fading and her facial muscles stiffening. It wasn’t that it hadn’t been the question she had hoped for, but rather the fact she was going to have to refuse what was close to being a royal summons.

‘Oh, Daniel, I’m so sorry, but I can’t go. I was going to tell you later. I have to go to Switzerland this weekend,’ she told him apologetically, hoping to soften the blow, but she could tell from the way he dropped her hand that he was not best pleased.

‘With Adams, I presume!’ Daniel responded frostily, causing her to blink at his tone.

Ever since she had agreed to this trip, Ginny had been wondering what she was going to tell Daniel. She abhorred deception, but his reaction told her clearly that the truth was out of the question. She had known for a long time that Roarke didn’t think highly of Daniel, but she hadn’t realised until now just how deeply Daniel disliked Roarke.

‘Of course. It’s business,’ she lied, watching him sit back and fold his arms.

‘I don’t trust him,’ Daniel pronounced bluntly, and Ginny frowned just a little. She could see where this was going, but she had never given him cause to worry. It surprised her to think he had given the possibility credence. He had no need to be jealous.

‘You trust me, don’t you?’ she asked soothingly, and he instantly reached for her hand again.

‘I do. Of course I do. It’s just that that man…’ Daniel let the sentence hang, and she knew what he meant. Roarke’s reputation went before him.

She squeezed his hand. ‘Is someone I have no interest in at all. However, the trips are part of my job.’ OK, not this one, but he didn’t need to know that.

Daniel nodded reluctantly. ‘I know, but Mother won’t be best pleased. She hates having her arrangements altered. She won’t like it, and I need her to like you.’

Ginny did a swift mental double-take. Daniel made the visit sound as if she was being presented for inspection, and whether or not he married her depended on his mother’s report. She didn’t much care for the sound of that, for good reason. Her father had insisted on vetting her boyfriends, and for the most part had found them wanting. They had not been welcome in his house and she had been compelled to follow his dictates until she was old enough not to need his approval.

To find herself on the receiving end of a similar situation now, when she had put all that behind her, made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. There was no way she was prepared to go through that.

‘Does it really matter if she likes me, Daniel? After all, I’m going out with you, not her.’ She tried to make light of it, seeking reassurance.

She got it—of a sort. ‘I suppose not,’ he agreed uncomfortably, then laughed. ‘No, no, of course it doesn’t. Though I would prefer her to like you. There’s no reason why she shouldn’t, of course. It’s simply that I’ve always sought her opinion on the important things,’ Daniel explained, as if that would make it acceptable.

Ginny swallowed her unease. The situations weren’t the same. All she would be doing was meeting his parents. It had to happen eventually. ‘I shall do my best to make her like me, if that will make you happy. All we have to do is postpone the visit for a few weeks.’ If it was important to him, then she would bite the bullet. As he said, there was no reason why his mother shouldn’t like her. She shouldn’t allow the past to cloud the present.

Daniel looked relieved. ‘That would be wonderful. I just know she’s going to like you. My mother has a very discerning eye.’

Ginny let the matter rest there, but later, when she was lying in her bed trying to sleep, the conversation went over and over in her mind. An uncomfortable feeling of déjà vu came over her. Daniel was the man she’d settled for, but she didn’t want to have to battle his mother for him, and that was what she feared was going to happen. She had been through that, and wasn’t about to let it happen again. But maybe she was seeing bogeymen where there were none. After all, she was predisposed to balk at the idea of being inspected. It would be best to reserve judgement until she had met his parents.

They couldn’t be as bad as her own. Nobody’s could. With which comforting thought she was finally able to drift off to sleep.



The rest of the week was hectic, and Friday came round all too quickly. As she packed for the trip that evening, Ginny decided she was out of her mind. Not only had she bought a new outfit for the occasion, which would have been acceptable, but she had bought several other things as well. For a trip she hadn’t wanted to go on, and certainly wasn’t looking forward to. The truth of the matter was that she couldn’t just turn out in any old rag. Never mind she was going to be playing a part, these people were Roarke’s family, and a wedding was a very special occasion. She couldn’t bring any sort of disharmony to the day by treating it as a non-event. Besides, she had the feeling Jenna Adams would be dressed in only the best, and there was no way she would let the woman upstage her.

A glance at her watch told Ginny that Roarke would be here soon. Closing the case, she took it out to the hall, then double-checked that she had her passport in her handbag. Which left her with nothing to do but wait, and nerves started to churn in her stomach. They had nothing to do with flying, because she was well used to it. Nor was it due to the fact that she was travelling with Roarke, for she had done that countless times too. No, the nerves were due to the fact she hated waiting. Waiting gave her time to think, and her thoughts were rarely pleasant.

She had learned to keep herself busy, to always have something on hand in which to engross herself, but she couldn’t do that now because Roarke was due any minute. She paced to the window of her flat and stared down at the road, but no car was pulling up. Where was he?

The silent question triggered a memory, and she could see herself looking out of the window of that grotty bedsit, waiting for Mark to come home so she could tell him her news. He had never come. Instead he had abandoned her to a terrifying future which had ultimately led to tragedy. She had waited that night, too. Alone in the dark, in pain.

‘No!’ With a low moan Ginny spun round, closing out the thoughts. She wouldn’t go there. Not again.

The sound of the intercom buzzing made her jump, but it was closely followed by a sense of relief. He was here. She crossed to the intercom.

‘Hello?’

‘It’s Roarke,’ his disembodied voice informed her.

‘Top floor, on the right,’ she directed him, pressing the door release. She just had time to catch him muttering, ‘It would be, wouldn’t it!’

Ginny went to the door to meet him. To her eyes he didn’t look the least bit out of breath when he reached her.

‘Hasn’t anyone ever thought of installing a lift?’ he complained, and she shook her head at him.

‘It’s only three floors.’

‘But six flights,’ he was quick to point out.

‘Quit complaining. You’re the fittest man I know,’ Ginny responded dryly. She knew for a fact that he worked out regularly, and though she had never seen it, she suspected there wasn’t a spare ounce of flesh on the whole of his body.

‘Remind me never to come to you for sympathy,’ Roarke muttered as he glanced around. ‘Is this it?’ he asked, pointing to her single case.

Ginny nodded. ‘It’s all I shall need for a few days,’ she confirmed, though she was well aware she had packed too much.

Roarke hefted her case and laughed. ‘My mother never travels with less than thirty pieces of luggage.’

Ginny couldn’t imagine having the clothes to fill them. ‘Think about the excess she must have to pay!’ she exclaimed in amazement.

‘Think of the pandemonium that arises every time she thinks a piece is missing!’ Roarke countered sardonically, and Ginny winced.

‘Ouch. Does that happen often?’

‘Nearly every time. You see, life has to be a drama for her. She’s the prima donna to end all prima donnas. It wouldn’t surprise me if my sister is marrying this man just to get away from our mother,’ he declared outrageously.

‘Oh, but surely she loves him,’ Ginny protested, uneasy at the idea that any woman would do such a thing.

Roarke shrugged indifferently. ‘She probably thinks she does.’

‘Thinks she does?’ Ginny challenged as she pulled the door closed behind her and checked it was securely shut.

Roarke started down the stairs. ‘Caroline is very much like our mother. She can convince herself of anything. If she wants to get away from Mother’s influence, she could well have convinced herself she loves this guy.’ He took time out to shoot her a mocking glance over his shoulder. ‘You might have gathered that relationships aren’t our thing. Caro’s a brilliant flautist, but emotionally she’s caught in the fallout of our parents’ broken relationships like the rest of us. I give this marriage a fifty-fifty chance at best.’

Having reached the ground, Roarke held the door open for her. ‘You don’t expect it to last?’ Ginny asked as she walked outside.

Taking her arm, Roarke guided her to where he had parked his car. ‘None of the others have, so the odds are against it.’

‘Which is why you aren’t even going to attempt a proper marriage,’ she pronounced, and Roarke grinned at her over the boot before closing it with a solid thunk.

‘Got it in one.’

He helped her into the car, but there was very little time for talking as the traffic that evening was heavier than usual. In fact, they only just made it to the airport in time, and their flight had already been called. Ginny didn’t have time to catch a breath until they were in the air and the seat belt sign went out.

‘There’s nothing like a frantic last-minute dash to set you up for the weekend,’ Roarke drawled sardonically as he made himself comfortable in the spacious first class seats.

‘I look at it this way, things can only get better,’ Ginny responded lightly.

He laughed. ‘Don’t you believe it. You haven’t spent any time with my family before.’

Ginny frowned at him. ‘Nobody can be as bad as the picture you’re painting,’ she argued, though she knew full well that they could be as cold and unforgiving as an arctic winter. ‘Your grandfather is always a gentleman.’

‘True,’ Roarke agreed easily. ‘He’s one member of the family I’d do anything for. Unfortunately, he won’t be there. Pressure of work, he told me, but I think he just doesn’t want to run into my mother. They don’t see eye to eye on anything.’

The affection in his voice when he spoke of his grandfather caused Ginny to look at him curiously. ‘So there’s one human being you do care about. You aren’t quite the lost cause you like to make out. Why do you hide it?’

Roarke glanced round at her, a mocking smile back on his lips. ‘Wait till you meet the family. Then, if you’re half as smart as I think you are, you’ll understand.’

Ginny looked away, fixing her attention on the view from the window. She wasn’t sure she wanted to meet any of his family. Then a small smile tweaked at her lips. Well, they were the Adams family, so what else could she expect?

‘What’s so funny?’ Roarke enquired, and Ginny, who hadn’t realised she was smiling, hastily composed her features.

‘Private joke,’ she murmured with a shrug, hoping to put him off asking further, which it did, but only set him off in another unexpected direction.

After giving her a doubtful look, as if he had guessed what she was thinking, he said, ‘So what about your family? They can’t be as gruesome as mine.’

It was an automatic response for Ginny to tense, though she had battled hard to feel nothing over the years. She tensed because the memories were as painful as they had ever been. Try as she might not to care, she knew in her heart of hearts that she always would.

‘I have no family,’ she told him shortly, knowing she sounded far too abrupt, which would only pique his irritating interest.

There was a second of surprise while he assimilated this, then he frowned as he made the logical assumption. ‘I’m sorry. I had no idea your parents were dead. You must miss them.’

Ginny had no intention of explaining anything to him, but, on the other hand, he was offering sympathy, and she couldn’t take that under false pretences either. Caught between a rock and a hard place, she felt compelled to put him straight. ‘They’re not dead,’ she corrected bluntly.

Beside her, Roarke’s eyebrows rose, then drew together in another frown. ‘You’re saying you don’t know who they are? That would explain the lack of photographs in your flat.’

Gritting her teeth, Ginny swivelled her head to give him a darkling look. ‘I’m not saying that at all. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d rather we changed the subject.’ She couldn’t be more pointed than that, but, as she had expected, Roarke ignored the heavy hint.

‘Hey, you can’t leave it there. You’ve got my mind buzzing with off-the-wall scenarios here. Besides, I told you about the skeletons in my family closet, so it’s only fair you should do the same,’ he cajoled her.

‘You volunteered the information,’ she was quick to point out. ‘I could have done with knowing less.’

Roarke grinned. ‘Come on now, sweetheart. You know you found it fascinating in a sort of perverse way.’

‘I did not!’ she denied, though she knew that wasn’t totally true.

‘Did too!’ he quipped back, making them sound like two children sniping at each other. It made her want to laugh, and she hated that he could do that to her.

She narrowed her eyes at him. ‘OK, so I didn’t find it completely uninteresting,’ she admitted, and held up her hand as he started to speak. ‘But that doesn’t mean I have to tell you anything about my family.’

‘So you do have one. I was beginning to think you sprang into this world fully formed,’ he mocked her, and Ginny sighed. He wasn’t going to give up unless she said something.

There was no way she could keep the reluctance from her expression, and she wasn’t laughing when she spoke. ‘I’ll tell you one thing, but only if you promise not to ask any more questions.’

The laughter faded from his grey eyes. ‘You make it sound like the end of the world.’

She held his gaze. ‘Your promise, Roarke.’

‘OK, I promise. No more questions, no matter what you say.’

Ginny glanced down at her hands, composing herself so that she would reveal nothing, not by a look or an expression. Her gaze was bland when she looked at him again. ‘Very well, I’ll tell you this much. I no longer exist,’ she told him quietly, and saw the myriad questions forming in his head. Yet she knew he wouldn’t let one of them pass his lips, for he had given his word and she knew that, once given, he would not go back on it.

Roarke sat back in his seat, puffing out a frustrated breath. ‘You realise this is going to drive me mad?’

That wasn’t her intention, for she wasn’t deliberately cruel. It had been her only defence to his probing questions. She couldn’t tell him that her family wasn’t dead to her, but that she was dead to her family. He would want to know why. She had had to shut him up and that had been the only way.

‘Best not to think about it, then,’ she advised, picking up one of the magazines she had bought to while away the flight with.

‘God, you’re an aggravating woman! Why didn’t you just say nothing?’ he demanded testily, and that made her lips quirk.

‘I tried that, but you insisted. You only have yourself to blame. Something for you to remember in future. Curiosity can be a dangerous thing,’ she told him with a husky laugh.

The sound of her laugh brought a rueful expression to his face. ‘You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?’

Ginny couldn’t help but laugh again. ‘There’s a certain amusement in the situation.’

‘I had no idea you could be so nasty.’

She shook her head sadly. ‘I told you. You…’

‘…only have myself to blame. Thank you for rubbing salt into the wound. It’s made me feel a lot better,’ Roarke muttered grumpily, but she could tell there was no real animosity in it. He had been well and truly hoist by his own petard.

Secure in the knowledge that she had headed him off at the pass, Ginny concentrated on her magazine until her eyes began to close. Knowing sleep would make the journey pass more quickly, she settled her seat into a more comfortable position and was asleep in seconds.

It was a hand gently shaking her that brought her awake some time later, and in that moment of slight disorientation she glanced round to get her bearings and found herself looking into Roarke’s concerned eyes no more than inches away from her own.

‘What—?’ she croaked, inexplicably fascinated by the depth in those grey orbs. She experienced the fanciful notion that they were bottomless. Perfect for drowning in.

‘You were having a bad dream.’ Roarke’s soft words cut into her errant thoughts, causing her to blink and really see him. The words sent a chill through her and she shivered. ‘I thought you’d rather I woke you up.’

Ginny licked her lips and swallowed, suddenly aware of a warmth on her shoulder. Glancing down, she discovered Roarke’s hand still rested there from when he had shaken her to rouse her. It was this that was creating the only hot spot on her body, but it was radiating warmth. Disconcerted by the effect, she touched the button which brought her seat upright and removed his hand at the same time.

‘Thanks,’ she muttered awkwardly. ‘Was I making much noise?’ she added, glancing round surreptitiously to see if anyone was looking at her. Much to her relief, nobody was.

Only Roarke was studying her with any interest. ‘Just whimpering sounds that warned me whatever was happening in that head of yours, it wasn’t pleasant. Do you often have bad dreams?’

Glad to hear that she had stopped short of one of her more explosive nightmares, Ginny shook her head. ‘Only now and then,’ she revealed. Once she had been plagued by them. Driven to the point of exhaustion by nights of broken sleep. Time had seen them fade until now she only dreamed when she was worried or upset. It must have been Roarke’s questions about her family which had set her off this time.

She’d been dreaming of the last time she had seen her family. Her father had been as cold and remorseless as ever. Denying her entry to the house. Saying things in that harsh voice he used to show his disapproval. Things that had cut her pride to ribbons, though she had held her head high. He had seen her off as if she had been a creature from the gutter. But that was what she was to him then. No longer his daughter, just a thing he would step over in the street.

Roarke’s hand on her arm gave her a start. ‘Don’t,’ he ordered gently when she looked a query at him. ‘Come back. Wherever you just were, you clearly don’t want to be there.’

His perceptiveness brought an unexpected lump to her throat, and she had to clear it. ‘Some dreams are hard to shake off,’ she confessed, and he smiled faintly, as if he knew from experience.

‘For some of us the past isn’t a pleasant place to be, is it?’

That wasn’t a path she wanted to travel, and in order to fend him off Ginny eyed him ironically. ‘You have bad dreams? I would have thought you’d need a conscience for that.’

He wagged an admonitory finger at her. ‘Now, that wasn’t nice, sweetheart. As it happens, I do have a conscience, but I doubt very much if I could convince you of the fact. You have this habit of expecting the worst of me.’

‘A side you delight in showing me,’ she was quick to point out, and he laughed.

‘Ah, well, if you expect to catch fish you have to use the right bait, otherwise they won’t rise,’ he explained, and Ginny’s eyes narrowed.

‘Implying that I rise to the bait, I presume?’ she charged wrathfully.

‘Which you do beautifully.’

She wanted to respond to that with a furious denial, but to do so would be to rise to the lure he had just put out, and therefore confirm what he was saying. She had to satisfy herself with a baleful look and one word.

‘Snake.’

Roarke chuckled. ‘Damn, but I have to admire your self-control. You are one cool customer.’

She might look cool, but inside Ginny was seething to the point of incandescence with frustration. ‘You’re too clever by half, Roarke Adams. People like you have been known to come to a sticky end.’

‘There, you see, there’s something for you to look forward to. My comeuppance. Will you look on, gloating with satisfaction?’ he teased her, and she rolled her eyes.

‘Oh, please, gloating is so passé. I’ll probably be leading the cheering section. It will be made up of all the women you’ve toyed with over the years.’

‘I’m afraid it won’t be as large a group as you imagine. I’m on pretty good terms with most of my exes,’ he reminded her, and she knew that basically it was true. She might rag him over the ones who had taken it badly, but they were in the minority.

Ginny had never been able to understand it. How could women allow themselves to be used as they were, and still like the man when he decided it was over? ‘You must be related to Svengali,’ she said now, and Roarke smiled rakishly.

‘Sweetheart, I don’t have to hypnotise a woman to, as you’d put it, have my wicked way with her.’

‘No,’ Ginny agreed with a grimace. ‘You merely smile at them, and they turn all weak at the knees.’

‘What turns you weak at the knees, Ginny? What’s Daniel’s secret weapon?’

There was no way Ginny would tell him that if Daniel had a secret weapon he kept it well hidden. He didn’t turn her weak at the knees, and she wouldn’t want him to. She’d done that, and it wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. ‘That’s none of your business.’

Roarke’s smile suggested he wasn’t taken in by her response, but at least he didn’t follow it up. No, he took a different tack. ‘So, what did dear Daniel say when you told him where you were going this weekend?’

The nerves in Ginny’s body jolted uncomfortably. Picking up her magazine, she flipped it open. ‘He said nothing. Why should he have anything to say?’ she responded in an offhand manner designed to tell him how unimportant the situation was.

Roarke studied her downbent head curiously. ‘You mean he saw nothing odd in you going away with me? How open-minded of him. I didn’t think he had it in him, to be frank.’

Ginny shrugged. ‘We travel together too often for him to be upset this time,’ she offered, recalling with a tiny frown just how upset he had been.

‘True, but this is different…or doesn’t he know that?’ Roarke added thoughtfully, and Ginny groaned silently at his persistence. ‘You didn’t tell him, did you? Where does he think you are?’ The amusement in his voice made her wince.

Slapping the magazine closed, she turned to stare him out. ‘This is a business trip as far as he’s concerned. When I realised how much he dislikes you, I chose not to tell him. Are you satisfied now? Can I read my magazine in peace?’

‘Daniel dislikes me?’ he asked, sounding even more amused. ‘The man has a hidden depth. Well, well, well.’

Exasperated, Ginny was tempted to hit him with her magazine. ‘It’s not uncommon for people to dislike you, Roarke, hard as that is to believe. I dislike you too.’

‘Ah, but does he dislike me for the same reason? You see me as a womaniser. Is that what Daniel thinks too?’ Roarke mused, then snapped his fingers as an idea struck him. ‘Of course, that’s it. He’s afraid I might turn my attention to you.’

It was irritating that Roarke should hit the nail on the head so quickly. ‘I told him he had nothing to worry about. I’m not the least bit interested in you. I think I may even have mentioned a ten-foot bargepole. That desperate I’m not,’ she added sardonically for good measure.

‘Besides, you have Daniel,’ Roarke put in sagaciously.

‘Exactly,’ Ginny agreed, returning once more to her magazine. ‘I have Daniel, and I’m not in the market for anyone else.’ Saying which, she turned her shoulder on him and concentrated on the words on the page.

Roarke wasn’t to know that they were little more than a jumble of letters because her thoughts were concentrated on those brief moments when a pair of roguish grey eyes had set her nerves skittering and her heart skipping. Why they had become fascinating, she couldn’t say, but she was seeing them in a way she never had before. Added to that, she could still feel where his hand had touched her. She was aware of him, too. Physically. Suddenly she could sense him, when she had sat beside him before and never felt a thing. It was as if something had been switched on inside her, and she was far from comfortable with it. She had to be losing it to find Roarke Adams even remotely attractive. That damned chemistry had picked a fine time to rear its ugly head. However, what could be switched on could also be switched off, and that was what she was going to do. All she had to do was will it. She was a sensible person, so it shouldn’t be that difficult…should it?




CHAPTER THREE


IT WAS evening when they landed, but as it was summer the sun hadn’t quite set and it was still warm. Someone had sent a car to collect them, and Ginny was more than a little surprised to find herself being ushered into a luxury limousine.

‘Somebody’s pushing the boat out,’ she murmured as she ran an appreciative hand over the soft leather seat.

‘Mother never travels in less than the best,’ Roarke explained dryly as he joined her in the back, having passed a few friendly words with the driver, whom he obviously knew well.

‘Hasn’t she heard of energy saving?’ she charged, judging that the limousine would guzzle petrol as if it was going out of fashion.

Roarke uttered a bark of laughter. ‘She never hears anything that would be to her disadvantage. Which is why she insists her children call her Marganita and not mother. The surgeon’s skill has maintained her youthful looks, which would be undermined by having a son my age.’

‘What do you call her?’ Ginny wasn’t sure whether the woman sounded likeable or not, he was painting such a dreadful picture of her. Her eyes narrowed. Just a minute, why was he doing that? It wasn’t like him at all to be so openly critical. She began to smell a rat.

That roguish smile reappeared. ‘Mother, of course. I think it’s important somebody keeps her in touch with reality.’

‘Why bother if she’s such an ogre?’ Ginny countered, definitely getting the idea that something was more than a little fishy here.

‘She’s my mother. I can’t just abandon her,’ Roarke replied carelessly, and Ginny knew she was right. She sent him a narrow-eyed look.

‘You, Roarke Adams are a twenty-four-carat fraud,’ she accused, which had him looking at her with what she could clearly see was feigned surprise.

‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’

‘Your family is gruesome and your grandfather is the only one you’d give the time of day? Ha! The fact that I’m here gives the lie to that. You care so much for your father you don’t want to hurt him, and as for your mother… You love every larger than life inch of her,’ Ginny declared roundly, the glow in her eyes daring him to deny it.

One eyebrow quirked. ‘Is that so?’ he said softly, and she nodded, quirking an eyebrow right back at him.

Roarke glanced away, scratching his ear. When he looked back, his expression was ruefully impressed. ‘You aren’t just a pretty face and a fabulous pair of legs, are you?’

‘I was hired for my brain,’ she confirmed, but Roarke smiled.

‘And a humdinger of a brain it is, but a mere brain didn’t see what you did. How does a woman who’s locked up in layers of permafrost get such an accurate insight into man’s deeper emotions? Sort of begs the question: were you always as frosty as you are now?’

Ginny gave him a sad look. ‘Just because I don’t choose to live my life as a high drama like your mother doesn’t make me frosty,’ she said, and received a look of high scepticism.

‘I beg to differ. A glance from those eyes of yours can deliver a serious case of frostbite,’ he drawled humorously.

‘The answer to that is to not say anything to provoke me,’ she advised, glancing out of the window and enjoying the view as the car began to circle the lake. They must be getting closer to their destination, she decided, and a tiny flutter of nerves started up inside her.

It wasn’t that she was really worried, for she was used to meeting new people, and all she had to do was be there to show Roarke’s stepmother that he was spoken for. Money for old rope, really. By Sunday evening she would be back in her own home again, and he would owe her one big favour.

All the same, the situation was just that little bit different. This was a family function and, Lord knew, she had never been a whizz at those. Doing what was expected of her, for a father who was notoriously hard to please, had been difficult. He had hated her spirit, and had done his best to crush it. That he had failed was due to her inner strength. She had refused to give in, and it had taken her along paths leading to betrayal and rejection. Her determination to be free had cost her dearly, and the memories were painful to this day.

She was distracted from her uncomfortable thoughts by the driver turning the car in through iron gates set in a wall that appeared to stretch for ever. It was a winding drive through natural forest, and Ginny wasn’t in the least surprised when they finally came out of the trees and found themselves drawing up before a large turn-of-the-century mansion. The views over the lake were spectacular.

Climbing out of the limousine, Ginny stared up at the impressive frontage. Goodness only knew how many bedrooms there were.

‘It’s not much to look at, but it’s still home to us,’ she sighed dramatically.

Roarke slipped his hands into his trouser pockets and rocked back on his heels. ‘Impressed?’ he queried, tongue-in-cheek.

‘I’m impressed by the size of the fuel bills. It must cost a packet to heat this place,’ she exclaimed in awe.

He grinned. ‘Which is why it’s the summer place. Summers are hot, so there’s no need to heat it. There’s a cool head under all that passion and flamboyance.’

She looked at him speculatively. ‘Aha, I’m beginning to see where you get your cunning from. What characteristics did you inherit from your father, other than an eye for the ladies?’

His laughter sent a trickle of pleasure down her spine. ‘Why, good looks, charm and wit, of course.’

‘Very useful,’ she drawled ironically.

‘All depends what you want to use them for,’ he countered smoothly, and she had no trouble guessing what he meant.

‘So, why isn’t your father in the hotel business?’ Ginny asked as they walked to the front door. Lawns stretched out on either side and were immaculately kept.

Roarke shrugged. ‘He’s better at spending money than making it. Fortunately, he can never spend what he has. He inherited a tidy fortune from his maternal grandmother, and has been living on the interest ever since. Oh, he isn’t a fool where money is concerned. It’s all stashed away, making more money than he could spend in three lifetimes, but it means he doesn’t have to work.’

‘So what does he do all day?’ Ginny wanted to know, frowning up at him in disapproval.

Seeing the look on her face, Roarke quirked an eyebrow mischievously. ‘I told you, he spends money,’ he said mildly, just as the door opened as if by magic.

Ginny had been going to pursue the subject, but the vision before her took the words out of her mouth. Standing deferentially in the doorway was a butler. Not just any butler, but a genuine English one from the way he wished them good evening. He could have stepped right out of that well-known series of humorous novels.

Roarke stooped down to whisper in her ear. ‘If the wind changes, you’ll stay like that,’ he said and, realising she was staring with her mouth open, Ginny closed it with a snap of teeth.

‘Is he real?’ she asked, stepping inside in response to Roarke’s hand in the small of her back.

‘The lady wants to know if you’re real, Watson,’ Roarke promptly addressed the question to the butler, much to Ginny’s discomfort.

‘Indeed I am, sir,’ Watson replied with gravity, but Ginny thought she caught the faintest of twinkles in his eyes.

‘He’s real,’ Roarke reported back, and Ginny sent him a look sharp enough to slay him where he stood.

‘Very funny,’ she growled, then gave the butler a friendly smile. ‘Take no notice of him, Watson. He has a warped sense of humour.’

‘Mr Roarke’s foibles are well known to me, miss.’

Laughing, Roarke turned back to the butler. ‘Are we the last to arrive?’

‘Of those expected today, yes, sir. Madam had dinner put back to coincide with your arrival. Cocktails will be served in the drawing room in half an hour.’

Roarke glanced at his watch. ‘We can make that. There’s no need to show us up, I know the way.’

Watson inclined his head in assent. ‘Very good, sir. I’ll have Carl bring your luggage up directly.’

The staircase was beautifully carved in wood and, climbing up it, Ginny could imagine elegant fin de siècle ladies swaying down it in their waspwaisted dresses, bent on making a spectacular entrance.

‘Has Watson been with your family long?’ The man was clearly somewhere around retirement age, but he still had a straight back and a full head of silvery-grey hair.

‘Since I was a boy. He’s had to rescue me from more scrapes than I care to remember,’ Roarke enlightened her as he ushered her down one corridor, then left into another. It was very confusing.

‘Could you draw me a map. I think I could get lost in here,’ Ginny declared wryly. ‘Has anyone disappeared never to be seen again?’

‘Not recently,’ he responded with a teasing grin. ‘Here we are.’ Stopping by a door, he opened it and pushed it wide.

It was a beautiful room, with a double bed at one end and a sitting area complete with couch and armchairs encircling a fireplace at the other. There were two large windows opposite, one giving access to a balcony, and Ginny went to look out, delighted to realise it offered a grand view of the lake. She decided she would be very comfortable here.

Turning, she found Roarke had followed her in. ‘Like it?’ He sought her approval, and she nodded, walking past him to take hold of the door.

‘It’s absolutely perfect. Now, if you wouldn’t mind leaving, I would like to clean up before dinner.’ She stared at him, urging him to go, and noticed that Roarke looked oddly discomfited.

‘I would, but there’s a problem,’ he said uneasily.

Her eyes narrowed. ‘Problem?’

He winced. ‘Something I forgot to tell you.’

Feeling uneasy herself now, Ginny was about to ask what it was when a figure appeared in the doorway. He was carrying their bags, so she identified him as Carl. What she didn’t expect was that he would deposit all the luggage on the chest at the foot of the bed and leave again, as quietly as he had arrived. Understanding was swift, and Ginny looked up at Roarke with eyes that registered first surprise, then anger. She let the door go in order to point an accusing finger at him.

‘If you think for one minute that I am going to—’ The words were abruptly cut off as Roarke closed the gap between them in no time and clamped one hand over her mouth and used the other to swing her away from the door, which he shut with a flick of his foot.

‘For the love of Mike, keep your voice down,’ he ordered in an urgent undertone, whilst Ginny glared at him over his hand.

‘Take your hands off me!’ she ordered, sounding both angry and garbled.

‘What?’ Roarke asked absently, intent on listening for sounds outside the now closed door.

Ginny chose a more direct method of communication, and the business end of her heel connected with his shin.

‘Ow!’ he exclaimed, releasing her to rub at the damaged area.

Stepping out of reach, Ginny folded her arms wrathfully. ‘I said, take your hands off me,’ she repeated for his benefit, and Roarke straightened up. ‘Why didn’t you tell me we would be sharing a room?’ she demanded to know.

‘Because I forgot,’ he growled back.

She laughed incredulously. ‘You forgot? You can’t seriously expect me to believe that?’

Grey eyes glowered at her. ‘Right now, I don’t care what the hell you believe. The truth is I forgot. I use this room when I’m alone or when I’m not, and you aren’t the one I was supposed to be with. The arrangements were made ages ago, remember?’

Some of the initial anger drained out of her at his explanation, but that didn’t mean she was happy with the situation. ‘OK, you forgot, but that doesn’t mean I intend to share this room with you, Roarke.’

Satisfied that there was no serious damage, Roarke abandoned his examination of his shin and gave her a blunt look. ‘You’re going to have to.’

That set her nostrils flaring. ‘I don’t have to do anything!’ she declared, bringing a mocking smile to his lips.

‘The woman in my life shares my room, and so far as this family is concerned you are the woman in my life. Get used to it. You’re staying here.’

Ginny would have given anything to be able to counter his argument, but she could not. She had agreed to play a part, and apparently that meant sharing this room with him. That being the case, she was going to lay down some ground rules right now.

‘OK, so we share the room. We don’t share the bed. You can sleep on the couch,’ she ordered coldly, and that brought a glint of amusement back to his eyes.

‘Sure you don’t want me to sleep in the bath?’ he mocked, and she returned the smile with saccharine.

‘Don’t tempt me!’ she threatened, and went across to the bed to pick up her case. ‘Before I get changed, is there anything else you’ve forgotten and would care to tell me about?’

He shrugged, hands busying themselves with the buttons of his jacket, which he removed and tossed on to the bed along with his tie. ‘Nothing springs to mind,’ he declared, starting on the buttons of his shirt.

Ginny found herself staring as if hypnotised. For reasons she couldn’t afterwards explain, she couldn’t seem to take her eyes off the movement of his fingers. It was only when they paused near his waist that she blinked and looked up—to find him watching her with a wicked glint in his eye.

‘Want to help?’ he invited in an ever so slightly husky voice.

Realising what she had been doing, and how it would be perceived, Ginny felt a wave of heat storm into her cheeks. ‘You’ve been undressing yourself long enough to know what you’re doing,’ she responded tautly, swinging on her heel and heading for the nearest door.

Opening it, she came to a halt. It wasn’t the bathroom. She closed her eyes, waiting for the remark that was bound to follow. He didn’t keep her waiting long.

‘You can use my dressing-room if you like, but yours is the other side of the bed, and the bathroom is to the right of the fire,’ Roarke said in that friendly, helpful way that made her want to commit serious bodily harm.

Bracing herself, Ginny turned and met eyes dancing with amusement. ‘Thank you,’ she gritted out through her teeth, and followed his directions to the other side of the room. Once safely inside the bathroom, she shot the bolt and leant back weakly against the door.

Oh, God, she had just made a complete and utter fool of herself. And why? Because she had been unnerved by finding she had been staring at him whilst he began to undress! What on earth had made her do that? She groaned aloud. He would never let her live it down. She just knew in her bones that he would be throwing it in her face from now till kingdom come.

To cap it all, she was having to share the room with him. Sometimes life was darned unfair. Thank goodness she had thought to bring a robe with her, for, although it was made of some silky material, it covered her from neck to toe. She wouldn’t have to swan around in next to nothing in front of him.

With that grateful thought, Ginny set her case down on top of the laundry basket and drew out the two-piece she would wear that night. It didn’t take her long to wash off the dust of travel and refresh her make-up, then slip on her stockings and shoes. Finally, she reached for the two-piece. The skirt was simple, black and clingy, whilst the top had a beadwork pattern all over it that glittered in the light and was held up by two thin straps. Ginny had a feeling that Roarke’s mother always dressed for dinner, so the evening wear would not be out of place. She ran a brush through her hair, gathered up her belongings and let herself back into the bedroom.

Roarke was already dressed in a dinner suit, and Ginny was compelled to acknowledge once again that she’d rarely seen a man who looked better formally dressed. Probably because he was at home in formal clothes. Mind you, she also had the idea that he would look equally good in informal clothes. Because if Roarke Adams was nothing else, he was a man who was comfortable with who and what he was. It was probably one of the main reasons he was so attractive to women. Women always appeared to go for men who were sure of themselves. Roarke had…the only phrase that really said it all was that old one—savoir-faire.




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