Mistress For Hire (Harlequin Presents)

by Angela Devine

  ‘I suppose you brought that awful old backpack with you again?’ he snarled over his shoulder.

  ‘Yeah, thanks, Unc.’

  ‘And don’t call me Unc!’

  ‘What’s the matter with him? You haven’t told him the truth about our dodgy marriage, have you, Lisa? Or about my art studies?’

  ‘No. We’re having a cold war. Or a raging hot war, more like it. I’ll tell you all about it later. Now, what about you? Is everything okay?’

  Tim’s face lit up.

  ‘Everything’s bloody marvellous,’ he agreed. ‘Lisa, guess what? When I got home from Barb’s place yesterday, I found there was a letter waiting for me. I’ve been short-listed for the Buller Art Prize. I’m one of four finalists!’

  Lisa gasped. ‘You’re joking?’

  ‘No, it’s the truth. I’ll get three years studying art in Paris if I win. The only trouble is that they want us to do another painting each as a tie breaker before the New Year. I want to finish Female Nude on a Spring Afternoon if I possibly can. Lisa, you’ve got to help me!’

  Lisa looked uneasy. What kind of help did he mean? Did he mean posing nude? For some complicated reason that was obscurely connected with Matt, she no longer felt comfortable about the idea of doing that. But of course, if Tim only wanted technical advice….

  ‘Sure,’ she agreed warmly. ‘Look, Matt’s coming back. Why don’t you tell him about this? If anything could convince him that you ought to be studying art, this will.’

  Tim shook his head stubbornly.

  ‘No. I’ll tell him if I win the prize, but not before. It will only lead to a row and I won’t be able to paint well if I’m all churned up. Listen, what are you and Matt fighting about?’

  It was a question that Lisa couldn’t answer for quite a long time. During the drive to the farm, Matt was in a foul mood and the need for secrecy limited her conversation with Tim drastically. At last, on the pretext of carrying Lisa’s bags upstairs, Tim ensconced himself comfortably in her room and lay on her bed, flexing his biceps and admiring them, while Lisa unpacked her clothes again. After an hour of telling her about the Buller Prize, he finally exhausted the fascinating subject of himself and was ready to talk about her.

  ‘So what are you and Matt fighting about?’ he repeated.

  ‘He’s a hard-hearted, insensitive, scheming brute!’ burst out Lisa.

  ‘Told you,’ agreed Tim smugly, tossing a segment of orange into the air and trying to catch it in his open mouth. It landed on the chain-stitched quilt, leaving an ugly stain. ‘What’s he done?’

  ‘You’re disgusting,’ complained Lisa, fetching a damp cotton ball from the bathroom and attacking the stain. ‘I’ll tell you what he’s done, he’s humiliated me.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘Well, he took me out to dinner and made up to me, but so subtly that I was really taken in. I feel such a fool! I was honestly starting to think he was completely sincere. Then this morning I overheard him on the telephone telling someone that he was deliberately leading me on, just so that he could show you how fickle I was.’

  Tim whistled and sat up. ‘That’s a bit rough,’ he exclaimed. ‘It’s not as though you’ve ever been the tarty sort. Do you want me to tell him that?’

  ‘No! I don’t care what he thinks about me.’

  Tim rolled his eyes sceptically. ‘Who did he say this to anyway?’

  Lisa hesitated and brought out the name with difficulty.

  ‘Andrea Spencer. Do you know her?’

  The shock in Tim’s face told her unmistakably that he did, but he shrugged uneasily and his gaze flicked away.

  ‘Not really.’

  ‘You do! What do you know about her? Tell me!’

  Tim’s eyes tracked reluctantly back to hers.

  ‘Only that she has a kid who is the spitting image of Matt,’ he admitted. ‘Everyone says that it’s his, but he won’t marry her.’

  Once when she was eleven years old, Lisa had fallen off a horse and broken a rib. Now she felt the same sense of pain and disbelief. A shocked, wounded feeling that pierced her when she breathed.

  ‘It might be just gossip!’ she flared.

  ‘It might be. But this is a small place and it seems likely enough. Women have always chased after Matt in droves, you know.’

  ‘And you really think he’d be mean enough to get a woman pregnant and refuse to marry her?’

  Tim looked uncomfortable.

  ‘No, I wouldn’t have thought so,’ he said frankly. ‘But it sure looks that way, doesn’t it?’

  ‘Yes, it does.’ To Lisa’s horror, she could not keep a faint tremor out of her voice.

  ‘You’ve fallen for him, haven’t you?’ demanded Tim. ‘It’s only three miserable days since you met him and you’ve already fallen for him.’

  ‘I haven’t! I hate him.’

  ‘Well, why should you care whether he fathered Andrea’s child or not?’

  ‘I don’t!’ cried Lisa.

  Tim looked sceptical. ‘Don’t give me that. It’s written all over you. You fancy him just as much as he fancies you.’

  ‘I don’t! Anyway, what makes you think he fancies me?’

  ‘The way he behaved all the way back from the airport today,’ said Tim slyly. ‘He didn’t want me there one little bit. He was just eating you up with his eyes. I’ll bet if I hadn’t been in the back seat he would have pulled off the road near some quiet little beach and started ripping your clothes off.’

  ‘Don’t be stupid!’ cried Lisa, suppressing a treacherous twinge of excitement at the thought. ‘Get this through your thick head, will you, Tim? I certainly don’t intend to let Matt seduce me and I don’t suppose he has any genuine interest in doing so. The only reason he pretended he did was so that he could hurt and humiliate me and I’ll never forgive him for it.’

  ‘So I suppose you’re going to turn wimpy and run off to Melbourne because you’re so upset about it,’ said Tim in disgust. ‘Just when I need you to help me finish my painting.’

  ‘No, I’m not going to Melbourne.’

  ‘Then what are you going to do?’

  ‘I’m going to pay him back for treating me so badly.’

  A faint gleam of interest dawned in Tim’s face. ‘How?’

  ‘Well, two can play at his rotten little game. I’m going to do exactly the same thing he tried to do to me. I’ll lead him on and then let him know that it was all just a spiteful trick. Let’s see how he likes it.’

  Tim gave an explosive chuckle.

  ‘That should be worth watching,’ he conceded. ‘But you’ll have to mind that you don’t really fall in love with him.’

  ‘Never!’ vowed Lisa.

  ‘So what exactly are you planning to do?’ asked Tim.

  ‘Well,’ said Lisa thoughtfully. ‘It’s best if he thinks it’s happening gradually. I’m going to act as if I’m really planning to marry you at first, but let him think that I can’t help being attracted to him, as well. I’ll lure him in and once he’s made a complete fool out of himself, I’ll tell him the truth, that the whole thing’s just a game to pay him back.’

  Tim winced. ‘I almost feel sorry for him,’ he said.

  ‘Well, don’t be! He doesn’t deserve your sympathy.’

  ‘That’s true. And if you stay here, you’ll be able to advise me on my painting technique, won’t you? And help stop Uncle Matt from finding out that I’m working on the painting?’

  ‘That’s crazy, Tim. I don’t mind advising you, but how can you prevent Matt from finding out what you’re doing? He’s bound to realize the truth.’

  ‘No, he’s not,’ insisted Tim. His gaze travelled across to the painting, which was propped against Lisa’s bedroom wall in a protective box. ‘He’s already swallowed my story that it’s just one of your pieces that I brought over from Melbourne for you.’

  ‘I know,’ said Lisa ironically. ‘But once you get out your brushes and paints and stand there daubing the canvas, don’t you thin
k he might figure out that you’re the one who’s working on it?’

  Tim shook his head.

  ‘No, I’ve got an idea. Have you seen that little cottage over the next hill? The one that used to have a tenant farmer, but is deserted now? I’m going to move in there and use it as a studio. You can come and visit me and we’ll let Matt think it’s a love nest where we do unspeakable things together….’

  Tim made a graphic gesture with his right hand and gave Lisa a leering wink. She choked with laughter and collapsed on the bed beside him.

  ‘Tim, you are utterly evil!’ she exclaimed.

  ‘I know, I take after my uncle. But it’s a perfect scheme, isn’t it? He’ll be really browned off about the pair of us vanishing there, but I’m sure he won’t actually stoop to spying on us. And once he starts to get really jealous, you can drop a few hints that you might prefer him to me. What do you think?’

  Lisa felt a brief pang of conscience, but thrust it aside. Matt deserved this!

  ‘I love it!’ she said firmly and flung her arms around Tim in a gigantic bear hug.

  At that moment there was a perfunctory knock at the door and Matt strode in. He stopped dead at the sight of them sprawled on the bed together, and a shadow like a thundercloud crossed his face. The rage and jealousy that emanated from him was so intense that Lisa felt her heart give a lurch of alarm. Then Matt advanced towards them, his eyes narrowed and his mouth set in a grim line. He gritted his teeth as he stood glaring down at them, and for one horrified moment Lisa thought violence was going to erupt. While her heart was still hammering in her chest, Matt suddenly lunged forward and seized his nephew by the front of his shirt. Lifting the horrified Tim bodily into the air, he set him down on the carpet.

  ‘You! Downstairs. At once. I need you outside mustering stock. As for you, Lisa Hayward, I’ve warned you once already. I won’t have that kind of outrageous behaviour practised under my roof between a grown woman and someone who is no more than a feckless boy. Whatever the legalities of the situation, I am the master in this house and you will obey my rules while you stay here. Do I make myself clear?’

  Lisa flinched, caught between a hysterical urge to burst out laughing and an equally hysterical urge to fling herself into Matt’s arms and lift her lips to his. Defiantly she wondered how long his opposition to her outrageous behaviour would last if she did. Fortunately some remaining shred of sanity held her back. Her eyes dropped before his stern, implacable gaze.

  ‘Yes,’ she muttered and had to stop herself from adding, ‘sir.’

  ‘Good. Then kindly occupy yourself in some more respectable fashion for the rest of the day. I’ll see you at dinner.’

  Dinner was over an hour late that evening since the two Lansdons had stayed out working till darkness fell and then had to bathe and change. Matt arrived at the table looking fresh and fit with his damp hair slicked back and the hint of a smile curling his lower lip, but Tim was clearly exhausted. There was a sticking plaster on his left hand and he almost fell asleep over the mushroom soup. When Matt vanished into the kitchen to fetch the beef casserole and braised vegetables, Lisa looked sympathetically at Tim.

  ‘Are you all right?’ she whispered.

  Tim opened his eyes.

  ‘No, I’m knackered,’ he complained bitterly. ‘Matt thinks everyone can last sixteen hours on a horse the way he can, but I hate it. I’ve cut my bloody hand on the fencing wire and you ought to see my saddle sores.’

  ‘I don’t think that would be a good idea right now,’ said Lisa hastily.

  ‘Well, maybe not, but I’ve had it,’ grumbled Tim. ‘I’m warning you, Lisa, I’ve got to think of some way of getting out of this. I’ll never get my painting finished if I don’t.’

  ‘Poor Tim. Don’t worry, I’ll help you in any way I can.’

  She wished she hadn’t said that when Tim flashed his angelic smile at her the following morning at breakfast, gazed from her to Matt and back again and then spoke.

  ‘I’ve got a great idea,’ he announced. ‘Lisa’s been dying to do some landscape paintings, Uncle Matt, so why don’t I take her over to our fishing cabin at Fortescue Bay and let her paint for a week or so?’

  Matt gave his nephew a glinting look.

  ‘I’ve got a better idea,’ he said in a hard voice. ‘You can stay here and get some more practical experience on the farm, Tim, and I’ll take Lisa to the cabin.’

  Tim could scarcely contain his triumph and Lisa her indignation as Matt took the dirty plates out to the kitchen.

  ‘You worm,’ she said, once he was safely out of earshot. ‘You low-down, treacherous worm! I don’t want to spend a week in a cabin with Matt.’

  Tim grinned and poured himself fresh coffee.

  ‘It’ll give you a great chance to let him think you’re falling for him,’ he pointed out unrepentantly.

  ‘Oh, yes? And what if it gives him a great chance to….’

  ‘Force you into bed with him? Oh, come on, Lisa. Matt’s never had to force anyone. I’m sure Andrea dropped into his arms like a ripe little plum. He won’t try anything unless he thinks you’re willing.’

  ‘How comforting,’ said Lisa coldly.

  ‘Come on, Lisa, be a sport. I need time to finish my painting. Promise you’ll do this for me.’

  Lisa sighed. That argument, at least, was unanswerable.

  ‘I hate you, Tim,’ she muttered. ‘All right, I’ll do it.’

  They set off shortly after breakfast the following morning. It was a warm day but Lisa felt clammy with apprehension as she climbed into the passenger seat of the four-wheel drive vehicle and shot Matt an uneasy glance. Was she insane to have agreed to this? The prospect of a week alone with him filled her with as much dread as the idea of spending a week in a cage with a hungry lion. She gritted her teeth, feeling impatient with her own misgivings. She ought to be pleased! This trip would give her plenty of time to make the opening moves in her nerve-racking game of revenge. She knew there was a good chance she could make Matt believe she was passionately attracted to him, that she was rapidly becoming a victim to his raw, sensual appeal. The only risk was that she might begin to believe it herself. Lisa flinched at the thought and unconsciously drew herself an inch or two farther away from him.

  ‘Is something wrong?’ he asked pleasantly.

  ‘N-no, nothing,’ she stammered.

  ‘That’s a relief. You looked rather alarmed, although I can’t imagine why. After all, this is meant to be a pleasure trip, isn’t it? A week’s fishing for me, a week’s painting for you. And a chance to get to know each other. There isn’t any hidden agenda, is there?’

  ‘No,’ choked Lisa, and felt a fiery wave of colour rush through her neck and face. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

  ‘Don’t you?’ His voice was cool, mocking, amused and, although she refused to look up and meet his eyes, she had the uneasy sensation that they were boring right through her. ‘That’s good, because I had the oddest feeling when Tim came out to say goodbye that you and he were scheming together. I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Lisa. You might regret it.’

  A shudder went through her as he started up the engine and turned the vehicle down the driveway. Who was playing games with whom? she wondered bitterly as they bumped down the rough, gravel road. Yet her apprehension gradually receded in the pleasure of the journey. The sun was beating down out of the cloudless blue sky, the jade green sea was roaring on the beaches, cattle stood knee high in the long grass and occasionally when they passed an isolated farmhouse, children would come running out to wave at them. At last they turned on to another dirt road, which twisted and turned like a switchback up a heavily wooded hill. Here there was little sign of human presence apart from the road itself. Gum trees so tall that it made her dizzy to look at their canopies soared upwards from dense stands of bracken. The light was green, filtered, oddly mysterious. When she opened the window to let in some fresh air, it came rushing into the vehicle’s interior, bringing with it
the strong, damp aroma of the bush and the ceaseless whispering of the trees. Once a wallaby bounded across the road, disappearing in a flash of brown fur, and on another occasion Matt stopped to give way to an echidna, which was busily shuffling across the road with its quills lying flat like a neat pile of knitting needles on its back. Otherwise they were completely alone until they emerged on a ridge overlooking the sea and Matt turned into a rutted driveway, which snaked up to the entrance of an old weatherboard cottage. Its steeply pitched roof and the tiny panes of glass in its windows showed that the building was well over a hundred years old, but it had been kept in good condition. The roof was new, the exterior weatherboards were painted white and there were twin tubs of bright red geraniums on either side of the steps leading up to the front veranda. Matt switched off the ignition and gave Lisa a quizzical look.

  ‘Let’s put our gear inside and then go for a preliminary scout,’ he suggested. ‘I’ll bring a rod and line and see if I can catch something for lunch and you can check out some likely sites for painting.’

  ‘All right,’ agreed Lisa.

  Matt carried the heavy box of foodstuffs and Lisa followed him with the two small backpacks containing their spare clothes. He had warned her that the cottage was primitive, but she was unprepared for what she saw. When he flung open the unlocked front door, she felt as if she had stepped back in time. The walls were whitewashed, the floorboards were dark and warped with age and a huge, handmade brick fireplace with a blackened iron kettle and cooking griddle dominated one wall. There was very little furniture and that, too, looked old. A cedar gate-leg table and four carved chairs, an old-fashioned couch and two deep armchairs recovered in a tartan print. A hunting horn hung on the wall, not looking like a self-conscious ornament, but rather a useful instrument, which might be blown at any moment to summon a family member from the forest or the beach for a meal. Matt kicked off his elastic-sided boots at the door and pushed them against the wall with his feet.

  ‘We never wear shoes inside the cottage,’ he explained carelessly. ‘They track in too much sand and leaf litter. But you can do whatever you feel comfortable with.’