The Accidental Mistress

by Sophie Weston

  ‘I’ll call you back.’

  She cut the call and sank down on the carpet in front of Jemima.

  ‘Tell me the truth, Jay Jay,’ she said gently. ‘Has he been making you take something?’

  Jemima swallowed. ‘I was putting on weight. Basil says every pound shows on the camera.’

  So that explained how her gorgeous sister had turned skeletal. Izzy added another score to Basil Blane’s tally.

  She said in a neutral voice, ‘So what did he give you? Pills? An injection?’

  ‘Pills,’ admitted Jemima. She blew her nose. ‘They make me feel awful,’ she burst out.

  ‘I can see that.’ Izzy thought fast. ‘We need to get you to a doctor now.’

  But at once Jemima took fright again, shrinking back among the cushions as if Izzy were her enemy. It took what seemed like hours to coax her out of her panic. And even longer to get her to the door, even after Steven had rung back with the name of a doctor who would see her at once, if Izzy could get her to his consulting room.

  ‘Basil will find out. He’ll come after me,’ said Jemima. ‘He said I wasn’t to leave the room unless his PA was with me. He calls me all the time to check. And to tell me what to do next.’

  She could not keep her eyes or her hands still. For a moment Izzy nearly despaired. It was not a feeling she was used to. She was not a woman who gave up on things.

  But there seemed no way to reach Jemima in this state. Logic didn’t work. Common sense didn’t work. Even a sharp slap, to shock her out of incipient hysterics, only resulted in Jemima collapsing in a soggy heap on the carpet again.

  ‘Damn,’ said Izzy, nursing her smarting palm and not liking herself very much.

  In the end she did the only thing she could, and stepped through into her sister’s irrational, obsessed world.

  ‘Okay, I got in here pretending to be you. I’ll stay and carry on pretending. Until you’re safe anyway.’

  For the first time a tiny flicker of hope ignited in Jemima’s eyes. ‘Can you?’ she said doubtfully.

  Izzy’s chin came up. ‘With a bit of luck and a following wind.’

  ‘But I’m never lucky,’ said Jemima, starting to shake again.

  Izzy put her hands on her shoulders and looked deep into her sister’s eyes. ‘You make your own luck,’ she said steadily. ‘Between us, you and I can do anything.’

  Jemima gave a long, long sigh. ‘Oh, Izzy. You’re so strong.’

  A treacherous thought nudged its way into the corner of Izzy’s mind: You wouldn’t say that if you’d seen me melting to a voice like warm chocolate. And not knowing whether it was truth or a dream.

  She cleared her throat. ‘Um—sometimes.’

  And she squashed the sneaking, shameful thought that she would melt all over again if she ever got the chance.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  ‘DOM, you’re impossible!’

  Dominic skidded out from under the beaten-up Jeep, found a spanner, and disappeared again.

  A muffled voice drifted back to Abby. ‘Sorry about that.’

  ‘No, you’re not,’ she said. ‘You didn’t even think about it.’ Hands on hips, she glared down at the long legs sticking out from under the elderly vehicle. ‘And another thing—those jeans are disgusting.’

  Her brother ignored that. Typical, thought Abby.

  She tried again. ‘It’s only half a day. You can afford half a day, surely?’

  ‘Why should I?’

  She hunkered down and peered under the Jeep. ‘Because it’s good publicity. Because Molly’s gone to a lot of trouble to set this up.’

  Dominic’s reply was muffled. Abby was sure he couldn’t actually have said what she thought he said: ‘She hasn’t set me up with the one person I want her to.’

  She said, ‘Because you promised.’

  Dominic said something very rude which Abby could not make out. She did not ask him to repeat it.

  ‘The expedition still needs funding,’ she said, concentrating on the main issue. ‘You’ve said it yourself. There are too many people out there trying to get sponsorship. You’ve got to get noticed.’

  Dom put up his arms and wheeled himself out again. He sat up and looped long arms about his crossed knees.

  ‘You’re trying to turn me into a performing flea again.’

  She ignored the warning note. ‘You said you’d do it if C&C came up with a woman.’

  He pulled a face. ‘Don’t like the sound of that.’

  ‘Maybe not,’ said Abby with resolution. ‘But that’s what you said. Are you backing out now?’

  Their eyes met with a clash that recalled every battle over the old rocking horse they had ever had. It was too much for Dominic’s sense of humour.

  ‘Hate bossy women,’ he said, grinning.

  Abby suppressed a sigh of relief and grinned back. ‘You hate any woman with a mind of her own.’

  He looked wounded. ‘That’s not true.’

  Abby refrained from listing his most recent girlfriends. Instead she applied herself to Molly di Peretti’s comprehensive briefing. ‘Jemima Dare isn’t bossy, anyway. She’s—’

  Abby thought of all the things that Molly had said—ego-driven, temperamental, a flake. No, maybe those were not the things to tell Dom. She fell back on an edited version of the truth.

  ‘She’s going to have to do this bungee jump thing and she’s terrified.’ Well, that was a reasonable assumption. And Dom was chivalrous. Sometimes. An appeal to his protective side might just work. ‘She needs her hand held.’

  Dominic saw through her, as he always did. His grey eyes danced. “‘Dominic Templeton-Burke, babysitter”,’ he mused. ‘Yup. I can see that getting the headlines.’

  Abby curbed her exasperation. ‘Stop trying to wind me up. The girl is gorgeous. And totally hot just now. Get your arms round her. Look macho. You’ll get more than headlines. You’ll get photographs.’

  ‘Macho?’ said Dominic, affronted.

  ‘Oh, come on Dom. You know the sort of thing. Professional gear. Plenty of muscles. Don’t shave for a couple of days. Oh, and try and look noble.’

  He pulled a face. But he also laughed aloud and stopped teasing. ‘Okay. I get the picture. You want me to give this bird the full mountain rescue treatment.’

  His sister looked at him suspiciously. ‘I want you to look strong and male and amazingly competent,’ she said.

  Experience had taught her that with Dom it was wise to spell out the terms of the contract. He was quite capable of turning the wretched Jemima into a backpack substitute and abseiling down the side of the nearest building with her flung over his shoulder.

  ‘No tricks. No jokes. I want you to look like the sort of man who could get a woman out of anything, if he put his mind to it. Real fantasy hero stuff.’

  Dominic pursed his lips. ‘Ah. A St George for the twenty-first century. I see.’

  Abby was alarmed. She knew her brother. ‘No swords. No armour,’ she said warningly.

  He made a face. ‘You’re no fun. I thought this was all about pretending.’

  Abby winced. It was not easy to ask Dominic about his feelings. He had a way of suddenly going inside himself, leaving just a charming mask doing the talking. It chilled even his sister, who was probably closer to him than anyone else. But, close as they were, there were areas of his life through which Abby walked on tiptoe. Under the sharp wit, Dom was a loyal and protective brother—but he could be savage in protecting himself from intruders. Most people backed away, sooner or later, including the girlfriends. Well, maybe particularly the girlfriends. But Abby loved him.

  She said gently, ‘You’d both be pretending, Dom. It isn’t as if she’s setting a trap to catch you.’

  ‘You mean like trying to get my older brother jealous?’ His voice was light but his eyes were hard.

  ‘Oh, Dom! Kelly was a one-off.’

  ‘Yes?’ He had that look, the one she dreaded, the look of a fortress: drawbridge up, portcullis coming down;
try and slide underneath it and I’ll cut you to ribbons.

  But still she tried. ‘Most women are as honest as you are.’

  His face was stone.

  ‘Look—I’m not like Kelly, am I? I couldn’t pretend to love a man because I wanted to use him as a stepping stone to get to another guy. None of my friends would either.’

  He relaxed. ‘No. But you’re a sweetheart.’

  ‘And my friends—’

  He flung up a hand. ‘And you see the best in people. I’ll buy you as the last honest woman in London. The jury’s out on your friends.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘Quit while you’re ahead, kid. I’m not changing. I know myself. And I’m not letting you fix me up with some foxy lady. Not even for a long weekend.’

  Abby bit her lip. ‘I didn’t mean—’

  ‘Yes, you did,’ said Dominic calmly. ‘And it’s okay. It was a long time ago and I’m over it. More than that. I learned a valuable lesson.’

  Abby was cautious. ‘Which is?’

  ‘Never trust a woman with anything important,’ he said. ‘They have their own agenda. And loyalty ain’t on it.’

  It broke her heart. ‘Oh, Dom!’

  He gave her a sudden grin. ‘Don’t look like that. I can live with it. There’s lots of gorgeous women out there just waiting for me not to trust them.’

  Abby began to be alarmed. ‘Not Jemima Dare.’

  ‘Why not?’

  His mouth was beginning to curl wickedly. It was a look that Abby knew well. Her heart sank.

  She threw in her last shot. ‘No point in trying to sweep her off her feet, anyway. She’ll be wise to you. You’ve already met her.’

  He frowned. ‘I have?’

  ‘It’s in the press cuttings file, apparently. She was at the Best of British Awards. You sat on the same table. You even danced with her a couple of times.’

  He thought about it. ‘What’s the name again?’

  Abby glared. ‘Jemima Dare. The face of Belinda. You must know her. She’s on every hoarding between Hyde Park Corner and Heathrow.’

  He shook his head, frowning. ‘Don’t remember—’ Then he snapped his fingers. ‘Got it. Dance in February. Skinny redhead. Too much make-up, not enough dress. Kept falling off her shoes.’

  ‘And—?’ prompted Abby.

  ‘And—?’ he echoed, mock innocent.

  ‘What happened? Did you like her?’

  He shrugged. ‘She was quite a nice kid, I suppose.’

  Abby did not know whether she was disappointed or relieved. ‘No chemistry, then?’

  Dominic laughed heartily at the thought.

  ‘But you will go and do the bungee jump tomorrow?’ she pressed.

  The secret laughter was back. ‘Oh, yes, I’ll go. I shall enjoy it.’

  Quite suddenly Abby found she believed him. It was not an encouraging thought.

  Pepper was incensed.

  ‘Pretend to be Jemima? Oh, come on, Izzy. How long do you think you will get away with that?’

  ‘Long enough.’

  ‘And you think people won’t notice? Photographers know when their models gain a pound.’

  ‘I’m not doing a photographic shoot,’ explained Izzy. ‘Just sitting here taking Beastly Basil’s phone calls. You know nobody can tell our voices apart on the phone.’

  ‘You mean her diary is empty?’ Pepper was scornful.

  ‘She’s doing a bungee jump for charity tomorrow. I can manage that. Nobody looks their best flying out on the end of a gigantic elastic band. And after that she’ll be safe in her clinic and it doesn’t matter if Beastly Basil finds out she’s gone.’

  ‘You’re crazy.’ Pepper sighed. ‘Well, okay, I guess I can’t order you to come back to work.’ It sounded as if she would have liked to. ‘But it’s back to normal on Monday, right? Out of the Attic needs you.’

  ‘Okay, boss.’

  She spent a lot of that day looking at Jemima’s portfolio and practising the various make-up tricks she had seen Jemima use. There were not many clothes in her sister’s wardrobe that fitted her. But in the end Izzy managed to put together an outfit that would look okay for a model girl on her first bungee jump.

  Though she had second thoughts when she looked at them next morning. The leather trousers were just a little too tight. Last night they had felt like body armour, even though she’d teamed them with a floaty transparent top. The long sleeves looked as if they were already in rags. They also left her shoulders bare. The thing had a plunging neckline that her mother would undoubtedly say was indecent. But at least it was not—quite—too tight. And as long as everyone focused on her cleavage, they wouldn’t be looking at her face and seeing that it was not the perfect oval that Jemima Dare was known for.

  ‘Sorted,’ said Izzy—and went to wash her hair with Jemima’s exclusive salon preparations.

  She had watched her sister do her hair a thousand times. Izzy stuck her tongue between her teeth and concentrated on the nice placing of heated rollers until her arms started to shake.

  ‘Blasted models. Blasted hair,’ she muttered.

  But it worked. When she stood looking at herself in the mirror, it was as near as dammit Jay Jay who looked back—feathery auburn hair, sequinned trainers and all. Izzy looked down at these last. They had seemed to select themselves.

  ‘Madness,’ she said wryly. But at least she was wearing her own underwear.

  Then she looked at herself critically. Not bad. Not bad at all. She struck an attitude.

  ‘Jemima Dare Mark II is holding up just fine. And ready for business,’ she announced.

  She did a soft shoe shuffle. The basic design of the shoes might have been intended for the running track, but these had twinkling lights at the heel and a dusting of hearts and stars on the uppers. Even the laces glittered. Oh, well, as long as people looked at the extravagant gear they wouldn’t notice any discrepancies between the model they were expecting and the one they actually got, Izzy comforted herself.

  But she would be glad when it was over. Quite apart from all the lying, she just didn’t understand how Jemima could stand this boring life. Hours and hours and hours in front of the mirror, and absolutely no sense of achievement at the end of it!

  Oh, well, at least the bungee jump wouldn’t be boring, exactly. Though she had trouble drumming up the nerves her minder clearly expected.

  ‘Butterflies?’ he said, ushering her protectively into the car.

  Would Jemima be scared? Probably. She had no great head for heights. Whereas Izzy had tried parachute jumping without a qualm.

  She shrugged. ‘I can handle it,’ she said evasively, trying to copy Jemima’s manner.

  Josh, the PR company’s minder, didn’t seem to notice anything wrong. He didn’t try to make conversation on the way to the jump site either. In fact, in the car he sent her one or two glances that were distinctly nervous. Didn’t he and Jemima get on?

  Izzy would have tried to find out, just to make sure she kept in character. Only she didn’t want to take any unnecessary risks. So she gave Josh the up and under smile that Jemima had perfected.

  ‘This is a first for me,’ she said truthfully.

  Josh relaxed. ‘At least you won’t be on your own.’

  ‘No,’ agreed Izzy dryly. ‘Here come the usual suspects,’ she added, using Jemima’s phrase for the press pack.

  The limo was pulling into the jump site. There was a clutch of eager groupies, a greeter or two looking welcoming, and about a dozen photographers, expressionless as always.

  Only this time there was someone else. Not a groupie, not a greeter, and definitely not a photographer. He stood behind the crowd, watching them ironically.

  Stood? No, he lounged in the shadows, his arms crossed over a powerful chest and a derisive tilt to his sculpted mouth. There was something about that mouth that shocked Izzy into total awareness.

  ‘What is that?’ she said in a voice like cracked glass. Suddenly she was all Izzy. Not a hint
of Jemima’s clipped sophistication left.

  Josh jumped. ‘What?’

  ‘The sneer on legs.’

  He looked round wildly. ‘What?’

  ‘The man leaning against the wall,’ said Izzy tautly. ‘Over there.’

  Josh followed her gesture. ‘Oh, Dominic Templeton-Burke,’ he said, clearly relieved to be asked a question he could answer. He grinned. ‘Your date for the day.’

  Izzy felt her mouth dry. I don’t believe it. I’m going to be unmasked in front of a hundred cameras?

  ‘Date?’ she said ominously.

  Josh went back to jumpy mode. ‘After the—er—misunderstandings last time, Culp and Christopher thought you’d like an escort,’ he gabbled.

  Izzy looked at him narrowly. You could almost see the piece of paper he was reading from, she thought.

  ‘Very kind of them,’ she said dryly. ‘Now tell me the truth.’

  ‘That is the truth.’

  ‘I don’t believe you.’

  But there was no time to get the truth out of Josh. The car was drawing to a halt while the man watched it, his expression just short of mockery. Izzy felt as if he could see right through the windows and past Josh’s head, straight into her brain.

  He’ll know I’m not Jemima, she thought in a panic. He’ll tell.

  She said, ‘Nobody mentioned a date. Why the hell—? Who is he again?’

  Josh looked at her curiously. ‘Dominic Templeton-Burke,’ he said again, enunciating clearly, as if she had a hangover. Or as if she were being seriously difficult.

  Seriously difficult was good, thought Izzy. You could probably get away with a lot if people thought you had a point to prove about your own celebrity status. She decided to be a spoilt celebrity in spades.

  She pouted. ‘This is a name I should know?’

  He went deadpan and patient. ‘The explorer?’ The car stopped and he leaned forward to open the door. ‘I thought you two were great friends.’

  It was just as well he was not looking at her, thought Izzy. She was sure that Jemima would never let her jaw drop like that.

  Oh great, she thought. A blind date she wasn’t expecting—and with a man who knew Jemima! Only, just how well did he know Jemima, come to think of it?