His After-Hours Mistress - AMANDA BROWNING

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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

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