Lovers in the Afternoon

by Carole Mortimer

  ‘So that was who you were meeting?’ she realised.

  ‘Yes,’ he bit out. ‘And while he was telling me that he had followed through investigations into the two men that Jive here, into the people I work with, and the people you work with, coming up with Gary Kingsfield as the caller, he was here threatening you! No one was here watching you, damn it,’ he admitted tersely.

  Leonie could see the humour in the situation now that she knew Adam wasn’t trying to divorce her. ‘That was the flaw?’ she couldn’t hold back her smile any longer.

  ‘It isn’t funny,’ Adam growled. ‘He could have—could have—’

  ‘But he didn’t,’ she soothed. ‘And unless I’m mistaken, he’s done me a favour.’

  ‘I can’t think what,’ Adam scowled.

  She walked into her bedroom without answering, coming back seconds later, opening her hand in front of him to reveal a thin gold band, and another ring with the stone of an emerald. ‘Will you marry me?’ she invited softly.

  His startled gaze was raised to hers. ‘The affair…?’

  ‘Is not what I want,’ she said with emphasis. ‘I only said that in the heat of the moment, because I was hurt. I’ll grant you the last couple of weeks have been exciting, that first night, the afternoon at the hotel, the rose every day. But can’t we still have that and be married?’

  Adam looked confused. ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘Do you still love me?’

  ‘Yes,’ came his emphatic answer.

  She felt the glow begin inside her. ‘And is an affair really all you want?’

  He flushed. ‘I thought after an appropriate time, when you’d got used to my being around all the time, that I would ask you to be my wife again.’

  That’s what she had thought, had finally come to know the workings of her husband’s devious mind. ‘I want to be your wife now,’ she told him softly. ‘And I want you to be my husband,’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘As sure as I was when you first asked me to marry you,’ she smiled. ‘We’ve made mistakes, Adam, terrible, destructive mistakes, but we still have so much, still love each other so much. Don’t you agree?’ she looked at him anxiously.

  ‘Gary Kingsfield will never hurt you again, you know. He should go to prison for some time once the police know how he threatened you today.’

  ‘I don’t care about Gary,’ she dismissed impatiently. ‘I’m talking about us. Will you marry me?’

  ‘Give yourself time to get over the shock of this afternoon—’

  ‘That does it!’ she glared at him, pushing the two rings on to her finger next to the eternity ring herself. ‘Now we are officially married again,’ she told him crossly. ‘And you will be a good, and always truthful, husband,’ she warned.

  He raised dark brows. ‘I will?’

  ‘You will,’ she told him firmly. ‘I’ll continue to work, we’ll lunch together when we can, you’ll come home to me at five-thirty every evening, and we’ll live together at your apartment. Your new one, I mean. I don’t think we would be welcome at your father’s again,’ she grimaced.

  ‘He called this afternoon and invited us over for dinner next week,’ Adam put in softly.

  Leonie became still. ‘Did you accept?’

  ‘I thought I’d ask you first—’

  He was learning, this arrogant husband of hers! ‘Then accept,’ she instructed. ‘I hadn’t finished with the outline of our future,’ she reproved sternly.

  ‘Sorry,’ he said, but there was a devilish glint in his eyes.

  ‘Apology accepted,’ she said primly. ‘Now I will decorate your apartment as you once suggested I should, and one of those rooms will be a nursery—’

  ‘Children,’ he said softly. ‘Are we going to have children?’

  ‘Three,’ she nodded.

  ‘Why three?’ he frowned at the odd number.

  ‘Why not?’ she frowned.

  Adam shrugged. ‘Why not? And when do you plan to have the first of these offspring?’

  ‘Well I thought I needed a bit more practise at the basics first,’ she told him thoughtfully.

  ‘Believe me,’ he drawled, ‘you don’t need any more practise.’

  She smiled. ‘But it might be fun, don’t you think?’

  ‘I’m sure it will,’ he nodded, taking her into his arms. ‘Oh, Leonie, I do love you,’ he groaned. ‘I’m sorry I was such an idiot when we were together last time.’

  ‘And I’m sorry I was so stupid and left you,’ she sighed.

  ‘I’m not,’ he shook his head. ‘We needed the separation,’ he explained at her frown. ‘Otherwise we might never have realised how much we love each other.’

  She rested her head against his chest as they held each other silently for a very long time, each cherishing the fact that they had at last managed to find happiness together.

  * * *

  ‘Oh, Adam,’ Leonie greeted him at the door, her face glowing. ‘It’s triplets!’

  The briefcase slipped out of his hand, his face paling. ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Of course I’m sure,’ she said impatiently, pulling him into the house they had shared with his father for the last four months, since Leonie had become pregnant and Charles Faulkner had humbly asked them to. ‘I’ve seen them.’

  Adam swallowed hard. ‘You have?’

  ‘Yes,’ she laughed exultantly. ‘Your father is delighted.’

  ‘He is?’

  ‘I must say, you seem less than pleased,’ she told him crossly.

  He looked dazed. ‘I just never thought—One seemed enough to start with,’ he finished lamely.

  ‘One?’ she frowned. ‘I don’t think that’s very usual, they usually come in four or fives.’

  Adam frowned. ‘Leonie, what are you talking about?’ he sounded puzzled.

  ‘Suki has had her kittens,’ she sighed her impatience with him. ‘Harvey is proudly sitting next to the basket, as if he did it all himself, and your father gave a cigar to Chambers.’ She giggled as she remembered the look on the butler’s face when Charles Faulkner pushed the cigar in his breast pocket.

  ‘Dad is excited about his prize Siamese giving birth to Harvey’s kittens?’ Adam sounded disbelieving.

  She nodded. ‘He says he’s going to keep one of them,’ she announced triumphantly. ‘Adam,’ she frowned. ‘Just what did you think I was talking about when you came in?’

  He looked down at her slightly rounded stomach. ‘Well…’

  ‘Adam!’ she gave a shocked laugh. ‘I’ve had a scan, there’s only one in there.’

  He took her into his arms. ‘One can never tell with you,’ he nuzzled into her hair. ‘That one came as a complete surprise.’

  ‘I think we practised too much,’ she mocked.

  ‘What shall we call it now?’ he said as he led her up the stairs to their bedroom.

  ‘Well, we can’t allow all that expertise to go to waste,’ she teased as she began to undress him.

  ‘No,’ he agreed as he undressed her.

  ‘So we’ll just say we’re practising for the next one,’ she murmured as they sank down on the bed together.

  ‘By the time we’re ninety we should be perfect,’ Adam groaned.

  Leonie giggled. ‘We’re perfect now, but so what…’

  Everything was perfect, their love for each other, the fact that Charles Faulkner seemed to have accepted her as a member of his family since she was carrying his grandchild.

  ‘By the way,’ she caressed his chest. ‘I’ve booked Mr and Mrs Smith a room at The Savoy tomorrow afternoon.’

  Adam gave a throaty chuckle. ‘I think we’re going to have to stop being afternoon lovers soon.’ He looked down at her with tender eyes, one hand lightly cupping her rounded stomach. ‘As it is our baby was conceived in a hotel room.’

  ‘I remember,’ she smiled. ‘I remember every minute we spend together.’

  ‘So do I,’ he told her gruffly. ‘So do I—and I thank God fo
r all of them! I’m so proud to have you for my wife, darling.’

  And his pride and love for her were all that mattered.

  * * * * *

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  CAROLE MORTIMER,

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  SECRETS OF A BILLIONAIRE’S MISTRESS

  One Night With Consequences

  When one night…leads to pregnancy!

  Waitress Darcy Denton isn’t Renzo Sabatini’s type. But unworldly Darcy becomes addicted to their passionate nights. And then she discovers she’s pregnant! Darcy dare not tell Renzo. But it’s only a matter of months before he claims what’s his…

  Read on to get a glimpse of

  SECRETS OF A BILLIONAIRE’S MISTRESS

  CHAPTER ONE

  RENZO SABATINI WAS unbuttoning his shirt when the doorbell rang. He felt the beat of expectation. The familiar tug of heat to his groin. He was half tempted to pull the shirt from his shoulders so Darcy could slide her fingers over his skin, closely followed by those inventive lips of hers. The soft lick of her tongue could help him forget what lay ahead. He thought about Tuscany and the closing of a chapter. About the way some memories could still be raw even when so many years had passed and maybe that was why he never really stopped to think about them.

  But why concentrate on darkness when Darcy was all sunshine and light? And why rush at sex when they had the whole night ahead—a smorgasbord of sensuality which he could enjoy at his leisure with his latest and most unexpected lover? A woman who demanded nothing other than that he satisfy her—something which was easy since he had only to touch her pale skin to grow so hard that it hurt. His mouth dried. Four months in and he was as bewitched by her as he had been from the start.

  In many ways he was astonished it had continued this long when their two worlds were so different. She was not his usual type of woman and he was very definitely not her type of man. He was into clean lines and minimalism, while Darcy was all voluptuous curves and lingerie which could barely contain her abundant flesh. His mouth curved into a hard smile. In reality it should never have lasted beyond one night but her tight body had been difficult to walk away from. It still was.

  The doorbell rang again and the glance he shot at his wristwatch was touched with irritation. Was she daring to be impatient when she wasn’t supposed to be here for another half-hour? Surely she knew the rules by now…that she was expected to fit around his schedule, rather than the other way round?

  Barefooted, he walked through the spacious rooms of his Belgravia apartment, pulling open the front door to see Darcy Denton standing there—small of stature and impossible to ignore—her magnificent curls misted with rain and tugged back into a ponytail so that only the bright red colour was on show. She wore a light raincoat, tightly belted to emphasise her tiny waist, but underneath she was still in her waitress’s uniform because she lived on the other side of London, an area Renzo had never visited—and he was perfectly content for it to stay that way. They’d established very quickly that if she went home after her shift to change, it wasted several hours—even if he sent his car to collect her. And Renzo was a busy man with an architectural practice which spanned several continents. His time was too precious to waste, which was why she always came straight from work with her overnight bag—though that was a largely unnecessary detail since she was rarely anything other than naked when she was with him.

  He stared down into her green eyes, which glittered like emeralds in porcelain-pale skin and, as always, his blood began to fizz with expectation and lust. ‘You’re early,’ he observed softly. ‘Did you time your visit especially because you knew I’d be undressing?’

  Darcy answered him with a tight smile as he opened the door to let her in. She was cold and she was wet and it had been the most awful day. A customer had spilt tea over her uniform. Then a child had been sick. She’d looked out of the window at the end of her shift to discover that the rain had started and someone must have taken her umbrella. And Renzo Sabatini was standing there in the warmth of his palatial apartment, looking glowing and delectable—making the assumption that she had nothing better to do than to time her visits just so she would find him half naked. Could she ever have met a man more arrogant?

  Yet she’d known what she was letting herself in for when she’d started this crazy affair. When she’d fought a silent battle against everything she’d known to be wrong. Because powerful men who dallied with waitresses only wanted one thing, didn’t they?

  She’d lost that particular battle and ended up in Renzo’s king-size bed—but nobody could say that her eyes hadn’t been open at the time. Well, some of the time at least—the rest of the time they’d fluttered to a quivering close as he had thrust deeply inside her until she was sobbing with pleasure. After resisting him as hard as she could, she’d decided to resist no more. Or maybe the truth was that she hadn’t been able to stop herself from falling into his arms. He’d kissed her and that had been it. She hadn’t known that a kiss could make you feel that way. She hadn’t realised that desire could make you feel as if you were floating. Or flying. She’d surrendered her virginity to him and, after his shocked reaction to discovering he was her first lover, he had introduced her to more pleasure than she’d thought possible, though in a life spectacularly short on the pleasure front that wouldn’t have been difficult, would it?

  For a while things had been fine. More than fine. She spent the night with him whenever he was in the country and had a space in his diary—and sometimes she spent the following day there, too. He cooked her eggs and played her music she’d never heard before—dreamy stuff featuring lots of violins—while he pored over the fabulously intricate drawings which would one day be transformed into the glittering and iconic skyscrapers for which he was famous.

  But lately something had started to niggle away inside her. Was it her conscience? Her sense that her already precarious self-worth was being eroded by him hiding her away in his palatial apartment, like a guilty secret? She wasn’t sure. All she knew was that she’d started to analyse what she’d become and hadn’t liked the answer she’d come up with.

  She was a wealthy man’s plaything. A woman who dropped her panties whenever he clicked those elegant olive fingers.

  But she was here now and it was stupid to let her reservations spoil the evening ahead, so she changed her tight smile into a bright smile as she dumped her overnight bag on the floor and tugged the elastic band from her hair. Shaking her damp curls free, she couldn’t deny the satisfaction it gave her to see the way Renzo’s eyes had darkened in response—although her physical appeal to him had never been in any question. He couldn’t seem to get enough of her and she suspected she knew why. Because she was different. Working class, for a start. She hadn’t been to college—in fact, she’d missed out on more schooling than she should have done and nearly everything she knew had been self-taught. She was curvy and redheaded, when usually he went for slender brunettes—that was if all the photos in the newspapers were to be believed. They were certainly mismatched on just about every level, except when it came to bed.

  Because the sex was amazing—it always had been—but it couldn’t continue like this, taking her on an aimless path which was leading nowhere. Darcy knew what she had to do. She knew you could only fool yourself for so long before reality started hurting and forced you to change. She’d noticed Renzo was starting to take her for granted and knew that, if it continued, all the magic they’d shared would just wither away. And
she didn’t want that, because memories were powerful things. The bad ones were like heavy burdens you had to carry around with you and she was determined to have some good ones to lighten the load. So when was she going to grab the courage to walk away from him, before Renzo did the walking and left her feeling broken and crushed?

  ‘I’m early because I sent your driver away and took the Tube instead,’ she explained, brushing excess raindrops from her forest of red curls.

  ‘You sent the driver away?’ He frowned as he slid the damp raincoat from her shoulders. ‘Why on earth would you do that?’

  Darcy sighed, wondering what it must be like to be Renzo Sabatini and live in an enclosed and protected world, where chauffeur-driven cars and private jets shielded you from rain and snow and the worries of most normal folk. Where people did your shopping and picked up your clothes where you’d left them on the bedroom floor the night before. A world where you didn’t have to speak to anyone unless you really wanted to, because there was always some minion who would do the speaking for you.

  ‘Because the traffic is a nightmare at this time of day and often we’re forced to sit in a queue, moving at a snail’s pace.’ She took the coat from him and gave it a little shake before hanging it in the cupboard. ‘Public transport happens to have a lot going for it during the rush hour. Now, rather than debating my poor time-keeping can I please have a cup of tea? I’m f-f-freezing.’

  But he didn’t make any move towards the kitchen as most people might have done after such a wobbly request. He took her in his arms and kissed her instead. His lips were hard as they pressed against hers and his fingers caressed her bottom through her uniform dress as he brought her up close to his body. Close enough for her to feel the hardness of his erection and the warmth of his bare chest as he deepened the kiss. Darcy’s eyelids fluttered to a close as one hard thigh pushed insistently against hers and she could feel her own parting in automatic response. And suddenly her coldness was forgotten and tea was the last thing on her mind. Her questions and insecurities dissolved as he deepened the kiss and all she was aware of was the building heat as her chilled fingers crept up to splay themselves over his bare and hair-roughened torso.