The Accidental Mistress

He danced his fingers along her naked skin.

The moment was so fleeting that she barely had time to catch her breath. But she jerked as if he had lit a fuse.

Yes!

She could lie as much as she liked, thought Dom, jubilant. Her body told the truth, no matter what she said.

THE WEDDING CHALLENGE

Chased to the altar—three independent cousins swept off their feet by the most eligible Englishmen!

Pepper, Izzy and Jemima Jane are cousins—with nothing in common except the gorgeous red hair they’ve inherited from their grandmother! They even grew up on different continents: Pepper is heiress to an American business empire, Izzy and Jay Jay shared their very English childhood as adopted sisters….

But do they have more in common than they realize?

For the first time in their lives, the three cousins find themselves together: as a family, as friends, as business partners. And they’re about to discover that they’re not so different from each other after all!

Pepper, Izzy and Jay Jay are thoroughly modern women, determined to be ruled by the head, not the heart. Now their lives are turned upside down as each meets a man who challenges them to let love into their lives—with dramatic consequences!

Pepper had an unexpected encounter in

The Independent Bride.

Jay Jay’s story,

The Duke’s Proposal, #3791

The Accidental Mistress

Sophie Weston

www.millsandboon.co.uk

CONTENTS

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

PROLOGUE

‘WE’RE missing the Wow! factor here, people,’ said the senior account executive of Culp and Christopher Public Relations. ‘There’s nothing special about explorers. Explorers are everywhere.’

Dominic Templeton-Burke was sitting opposite him, doodling impatiently. But at this he raised his head and stared in disbelief. His handsome bony face seemed to freeze for a moment, and then he gave a gulp that just might—if C&C weren’t the most famous PR agency in London and doing this for free—have been a choked laugh.

‘It goes with the job description, I’m afraid,’ he said in a strangled voice.

The senior account executive was not used to being laughed at and did not recognise it now. He gave a tolerant smile. ‘Can’t be helped. But what we have to ask ourselves here is—what makes Dominic Templeton-Burke unique?’

There was a pause.

‘He’s sexy?’ offered emerald-haired ebony-nailed Molly di Peretti at last. She sounded doubtful.

This time Dominic did not even try to hide his grin. ‘Gee, thanks,’ he murmured.

None of the PR professionals took any notice. They felt some sympathy for Molly. Normally she dealt with rock musicians, and the rangy adventurer was proving a challenge. Oh, he was good-looking enough. He just didn’t take it seriously—and hadn’t from the moment Managing Director Jay Christopher had said, ‘This is Dom. He’s going for a stroll in the Arctic and has just lost ten per cent of his funding. We’re going to help.’

But helping Dom Templeton-Burke was turning out to be an uphill struggle.

Except that senior account executives didn’t notice! ‘All explorers are sexy,’ said the senior account executive loftily.

His subordinates exchanged weary glances.

‘They are,’ he insisted. ‘It goes with all that heaving backpacks around and lack of aftershave. Pure testosterone. We need that something extra.’

It was undeniable. There was silence while they all thought.

‘Something to show his sensitive side?’ hazarded Josh, newly out of his training course.

Dominic lost his grin. ‘Not too sensitive,’ he said firmly.

His sister Abby, an account executive in her own right, glared down the table at him. Only threats of major family recrimination had got her reluctant brother here this morning and she was watching him like a hawk.

‘Try to be constructive, Dom.’ She’d meant to be crisp. Too late, she heard the pleading note in her voice. She could have kicked herself.

Dominic was her favourite brother, but she had never tried to interfere with his professional life before. It was turning out to be an unforgettable experience.

‘We’re trying to help you here,’ she said, in despair.

‘Sorry.’ But he did not sound repentant. And his grey green eyes were dancing. He sat back. ‘What had you in mind?’

The account executive waved a vague hand. ‘Something quirky. Something unexpected. Something people will remember. I’m looking for the human face here.’

‘You mean something that says there’s more to you than muscles and the ability to read a compass,’ said his fond sister maliciously.

Dominic flicked a paper pellet at her.

‘He means the man of mystery behind my rough, tough exterior,’ he corrected. ‘We’re talking swirling cloaks and stirred martinis. Probably with a glamorous mistress thrown in,’ he added wickedly.

There was sudden, total silence. The staff of Culp and Christopher exchanged startled glances.

They had heard about Abby’s brother. He might not be a bad and brooding rock star. But, between expeditions, he partied enthusiastically. In fact, in the folders in front of them, Molly’s briefing concluded, ‘The word on the street is that he’s brilliant, unpredictable and an all-round awkward sod. Does the full male on the loose thing—then disappears to go into training without a word. Sexually a stud. Socially a blast. Romantically a bad, bad bet.’

‘Er,’ said Molly, trying not to look at her folder.

Even Abby, who had not seen the briefing—well, he was her brother after all—looked uncomfortable.

‘Ho yus?’ she said with heavy irony. ‘Like you’d remember you had a hot babe waiting for you when someone was offering to show you some marvellous new bit of climbing equipment?’

Dominic’s eyes twinkled. ‘You’re saying I’m not sexy again,’ he said sadly.

Every woman at the table looked at him with professional assessment. Beneath the careless clothing the tall rangy body was powerfully muscled. Only that wicked teasing meant that you never quite knew where you were with him. He would be a challenge, but…

‘I’m saying you should have No Involvement tattooed on your forehead,’ snapped Abby, goaded. ‘Are you telling me I’m wrong?’

‘I thought I was here for PR advice. Not character assassination.’

Was he annoyed? Looking at those wicked green eyes, no one round the table could be sure.

Molly di Peretti said hastily, ‘A high-profile flirtation could get us some coverage, sure. But—’ She looked at Abby for a lead.

Abby was passing a list of his most recent girlfriends under rapid review. To a woman they were gorgeous, sweet-tempered and pliant. And temporary. No sign that Dominic wanted to abandon his detachment, as far as she could see. Still—he really needed that funding. There was a chance that it was a serious suggestion.

She cleared her throat. ‘Have you got anyone in mind?’

Dom opened his eyes very wide. ‘Me? Isn’t that your job? That’s what I thought you people got paid for.’ He sounded injured—and very innocent.

Abby knew that tone. Serious? Not a hope! She could have screamed. Or thrown her folder at his mischievous head.

‘Hmm,’ said the senior account executive, oblivious of undercurrents. ‘It’s a thought. It’s definitely a thought.’

Abby knew that her brother was winding them up, even if her colleagues had missed it. ‘Not a good idea at all,’ she said crisply. ‘Madame de Pompadour is not currently on our books. Besides, Dom’s girlfriend wouldn’t like it at all—whoever she is at the moment,’ she added acidly.

Dominic sent her an amused look. ‘No girlfriend currently on board,’ he said blandly. ‘I’m open to offers.’

‘I like it,’ decided the senior account executive. ‘We could definitely do something with that.’

Dom nodded enthusiastically. ‘What have you in mind?’ he said with flattering attention.

Abby groaned.

Dominic ignored her. ‘Something gorgeous and blonde with legs to her eyebrows?’ he said hopefully.

Abby dropped her head in her hands.

The senior account executive, less alert than Abby, gave an impatient wave of the hand.

‘Don’t bother you with details, huh?’ Dominic smiled with apparent sympathy. ‘Yeah, I know the feeling. People will fuss about the unimportant stuff, won’t they?’

But, lifting her head, Abby saw that his eyes were dancing in a way that she knew all too well.

‘Dom—’ she began warningly.

As if she hadn’t spoken, Dominic leaned forward and put his elbows on the boardroom table. He steepled his fingers and rested his chin on them. He was the picture of intelligent cooperation. Abby distrusted him deeply.

‘You’re getting a lot of advice for free. Don’t waste it,’ she advised him curtly. Without much hope. When something appealed to his sense of humour Dom was unstoppable. ‘Get serious,’ she finished despairingly.

He turned limpid eyes on her. ‘Serious? Honestly, Abby, I can see the idea has a lot going for it.’ He beamed round the table. ‘Just fill me in a bit. I mean, it was just an idea off the top of my head. I haven’t thought it through. Do you really think a mistress will spruce up my public image? And where do you think I should get one?’

Abby gave up. ‘Rent-a-Bird?’ she muttered sourly.

Dominic slapped her lightly under the table. ‘Ignore her. Come on, ladies and gentlemen. Remember, I’m just a simple country boy who doesn’t know his way around big city public relations. Walk me through this one.’

Abby cast her eyes to the ceiling.

‘Dom, stop this.’

But the senior account executive could not imagine a client teasing him.

‘Sex sells,’ he explained seriously. He was quite kind, but his tone said that Dom knew even less about real life than the newly employed Josh.

‘Ah,’ said Dom, still mild. ‘But we’re selling my next expedition, right? Um, sorry chaps, this may be new to you. But there’s not a lot of sex at the South Pole.’

The senior account executive was patient. ‘All the more reason why you need some in the PR campaign.’

That was too much for Dominic. His wicked control snapped at last. He gave a hoot of laughter and buried his head in his hands.

‘You’re mad,’ he said, when he could speak. ‘Absolutely out of your tree, every man jack of you. PR obviously rots the brain.’

He stood up and looked round the table.

‘Thanks for the offer of help,’ he said. ‘I know you meant it kindly. Think I’ll pass, all the same.’

He walked out, still chuckling.

He left silence behind him.

Then Molly drew a long, satisfied breath. ‘Unpredictable,’ she said, pleased with her research. ‘Told you so.’

Abby bit her lip. ‘I’m so sorry…’

Molly patted her hand. ‘That’s okay. We’ll tell Jay we gave it our best shot and Dom wouldn’t play. No problem. Even Jay can’t force the man to take on a PR package.’ She chuckled suddenly. ‘Though I must say I rather fancy setting him up with Madame de Pompadour. Sorry to be mean about your brother, Abby, but he could do with a crash course in respect.’

Abby winced. If it weren’t for family loyalty she would have cheered.

People gathered up their papers and pushed back their chairs, ready to move on to a more promising assignment.

Only the senior account executive still had something to say. He was not offended but his tone was wistful.

‘It would have made a great story. Think of the headlines. A man’s man and his lucky lady!’ He met the appalled eyes of his female colleagues and came back to earth. ‘With the right woman, of course. Only with the right woman.’

Abby and Molly exchanged eloquent glances.

‘The right woman?’ echoed Molly, incredulous. ‘You think there’s a right woman for Dominic Templeton-Burke?’

Loyalty lost the battle. ‘Fat chance,’ said Abby.

CHAPTER ONE

IT WAS one of those crisp clear late summer mornings that said autumn was coming. Isabel Dare, doing her stretches just inside the park gates, drew deep, luxuriating breaths. Peace, she thought.

Alone. Room to breathe. Silence to think, except for the birds twittering in the trees. For the first time in weeks, months, there was no one walking her off the pavement as if she didn’t exist. No stifling underground train with a stranger’s elbow in her side and her nose pressed into someone else’s back. No beep announcing the next text message.

Just not a natural London person, I guess, she told herself wryly.

The next text message would be, like all the others, from Adam. She knew what it would say. ‘Date 3 whn?’

The problem was, she didn’t know the answer.

‘Third date coming up, huh?’ Jemima had said last night, just before she dropped her overnight flight bag and crashed. ‘Hope he has more luck than the last five. I like Adam.’

Well, Izzy liked him, too. She just wasn’t sure she wanted him to move in any closer. And the third date was—well, big.

Bigger even than she’d realised, thought Izzy wryly now. She and Jemima called it the Sex Date. They always had; it was a sister thing. So Izzy was taken aback to find that everyone else seemed to be calling it the Sex Date, too. Including Adam Sadler.

He was getting increasingly impatient, too. To be honest, Izzy couldn’t blame him. The trouble was, it wasn’t just London that was getting her down. Adam—and the five guys before him—were a big part of it, too. She enjoyed dating; she liked having a good time. But she didn’t want to go through the third date barrier with any of them. Not any more.

She took herself to task. Well, maybe make that not with anyone yet. Things could change. Meanwhile—

Izzy shook her head. ‘Hard-Hearted Hannah,’ she said with a grin. ‘They’ll just have to live with it.’

She began to jog quietly along the grass beside the Tarmac path. It was only just six-thirty, but already the sky was hazy with the promise of heat. It would be a perfect day for walking in the woods. Or canoeing. Or just lazing by the river under the shade of a willow, watching the insects hover and thinking of nothing. Alone.

‘Not an option,’ she said aloud, squashing regret.

Today was her cousin Pepper’s big day. Today saw the opening of Out of the Attic, Pepper’s new retail concept. Pepper had put her heart and soul into this, her breakout venture on her own, and Izzy had worked with her on it for months. This was a day of presentations and schmoozing and parties. No time for willows.

Izzy sighed—but she laughed as well.

The trouble was, she thought, Pepper really cared about shopping. Whereas Izzy didn’t, not if she were honest. Still, that didn’t matter. Pepper had given her a job when she’d been so badly shaken she’d thought that she was unemployable and always would be.

Not that Pepper knew that. Nobody did. Izzy had taken good care of that. Izzy fought her demons in private. Always had.

She increased her pace.

The low morning sun struck rainbows off of the dew-wet leaves. Birds sang. A heron cruised idly over the mill-pond surface of the lake. It was not really hunting, just checking out the scene, she thought with a grin.

The exercise was beginning to take effect. Izzy’s blood pumped and her skin tingled. Oh, this felt good. This would make up for the hours to come. Hours of monitoring what she said to make sure she stayed on message; of circulating in air thick with warring perfumes; of feeling that she was drowning in people.

When she’d first moved to London she’d run in the park every day. Always early, very early, when it was virtually deserted.

‘But isn’t that terribly dangerous?’ New Yorker Pepper had said, blenching, the first time she met Izzy in the hallway in her shorts and running shoes.

Izzy laughed. ‘I run fast and I kick hard.’

‘She does,’ agreed Jemima with a grin. Jemima had been there all the time then. Hadn’t got her big job; wasn’t travelling twenty-four days a month; still listened.

But Pepper was unconvinced. ‘But what if a man came at you with a gun?’

Inwardly Izzy tensed. But outwardly she stayed unconcerned. She shrugged. ‘Run if you can. If you can’t—negotiate!’

Jemima, still in silky kimono with a coffee in her hand, shook her head at her cousin.

‘That’s what she always says, Pepper. Izzy has been all round the world you know. Every time she comes back without a scratch. So she must be right.’

Pepper was unconvinced. ‘But the risk!’

Izzy was unlacing her shoes, but at that she turned her head and said with quite unnecessary force, ‘Life is all about risks.’ She eased the shoes off, sat on the polished parquet and looked up at the other two. ‘Run away from one and you just rush slap into another. So you can either sit in a locked room and shiver. Or take the risks. And learn to deal with the consequences.’ Her voice was hard.

Pepper, who was in the middle of the biggest risk of her life, blinked. Then she laughed and flung up her hands. ‘When you put it like that, I can’t argue.’

So today Izzy ran in the empty park; revelled in the physical stretching of her capacities; savoured the diamond-bright dew and the lazy heron—and stayed on the alert.

Pepper did not need to warn her about the dangers of men with guns. Izzy had first-hand experience to draw on. Though that, too, was part of her secret. Nobody knew it. Not even Jemima.

Maybe one day I’ll tell them, she thought. Pepper and Jemima—even Adam.

But the thought of handsome Adam Sadler made her shake her head. No, it was impossible to tell him. Adam was a banker. He thought the most dangerous thing that could happen was the US economy going into recession. Whereas Izzy knew that danger came at you in combat gear with crazy eyes and—

She swallowed. It all seemed so far away from London and her busy life these days. Sometimes it even felt as if it had happened to someone else—a story she’d read in one of the Sunday magazines. Or as if she had split into two people on that bus on the jungle track. One Izzy had come home and flung herself into the family enterprise and was doing just fine.

Only the other Izzy was still lost. And Adam Sadler, with his Lotus and his Rolex and his membership of a ferociously expensive City gym, was not the man to help her find herself. Even if she wanted him to.

Well, she’d better stay lost today, thought Izzy, revving up for the final push. Today there were more important things to think about. Today was going to take a lot of handling. Today was serious.

And there were definitely problems on the horizon. Last night Pepper had been showing signs of climbing the walls. And Jemima was jet-lagged out of her brains. But somehow or other they had to pull it all together for the launch. Because today was crunch time.

Izzy flung back her head, the loose red hair flying. ‘And the crunch is what I do,’ she said firmly. ‘Crisis a speciality. The others can freak all they want. I’ll bring home the bacon.’

And she lengthened her stride, put her head down, and went through the pain barrier.

When she got back to the apartment Pepper was sitting huddled over the kitchen table surrounded by three cups of barely touched coffee and clutching a sheet of paper covered with sticky notes. She looked up when Izzy came in. But she did not really see her, thought Izzy. Her cousin’s eyes were wild.

‘“A whole new experience”,’ she was muttering. “‘A whole new experience”. Hello, Izzy. “A whole new shopping experience”.’

‘Stop it,’ said Izzy, taking the sheet of paper away from her. ‘We went through all this last night.’

Until two in the morning, actually. The woman could hardly have slept at all.

Pepper’s smile was perfunctory. ‘But I had this idea in bed…’

‘Sleep would have been better,’ said Izzy. She took the coffee cups away, too, and threw their congealing contents down the sink.

‘No. Listen. The statistics—’

Izzy looked round from the sink in disbelief. ‘You aren’t going to hit a bunch of fashion journalists with statistics?’

‘They’re significant,’ said Pepper earnestly.

Izzy shook her head. ‘You’re on a caffeine burn,’ she said kindly. ‘Cogs not engaging. Statistics are strictly for back-up stuff in the press pack. You have to keep your speech short and intriguing.’

‘But—’

‘I’m going to make you some toast,’ announced Izzy. ‘And eggs. With warm milk. Or hot chocolate. Or champagne. You will have something to eat and drink that isn’t caffeine. And you will please stop gibbering. Out of the Attic is a fantastic idea and this launch is going to be awesome. Right?’

Pepper gave her a better smile this time. ‘You’re very good to me, Izzy. I’m glad I’ve got a cousin like you.’

Izzy grinned at her. ‘Likewise, oh retail genius. Now, go and have your shower while I rout Jemima out of her pit.’

Jemima had swirled the duvet round her like a Swiss roll and was about as welcoming as a grizzly disturbed in its winter quarters.

‘Go ‘way.’

‘Nope.’

‘You’re a nightmare. Push off, Nightmare.’

Ruthlessly Izzy flung open the curtains. Golden sun blazed in. Jemima screamed and pulled the pillow over her face.

‘I hate you,’ she said, muffled but passionate. She was clearly a lot more awake than she wanted to be.

‘Sure you do,’ said Izzy with a grin. ‘Get up.’

‘I only just got to sleep.’

‘Tough. You have work to do.’

Jemima let out a wail. ‘Tell me something new.’

‘And a cousin to support.’

There was a pause. Then the pillow was pushed aside a fraction. One eye and a lot of tousled hair appeared.

‘Izzy?’ said Jemima, as she’d used to do when Izzy woke her on school days.

‘That’s the one,’ said Izzy cheerfully. She added cunningly, ‘If you get up now, I’ll do eggy bread for breakfast.’

There was a moment’s complete silence. Then Jemima groaned and heaved the pillow aside. She sat up.

‘Okay. It’s not a nightmare,’ she said, resigned. ‘You’re here and you won’t go away until I do what you want. What do you want?’

Izzy brought a list out of her pocket and handed it to her.

Jemima stared at it, then looked up at her in disbelief. ‘You can’t be serious.’

‘Starting,’ said Izzy, preparing to leave, ‘with Pepper’s make-up. She’ll be ready for you in about ten minutes.’

‘Oh.’ Jemima sagged back among the remaining pillows. ‘All right.’ Her voice began to slur again. ‘I’ll be out in ten minutes.’

‘Sure you will,’ said Izzy sweetly. And took the duvet with her.

She ignored the roar of outrage that followed her into the corridor. And sure enough, heavy-eyed and spitting, Jemima was in the kitchen with full make-up kit and a hugely magnifying mirror inside five minutes. She spurned the eggy bread with dignity, but she swallowed two cups of coffee and then peered at herself in the mirror.

‘Eye bags,’ she said, like a surgeon giving a diagnosis. She snapped her fingers. ‘Ice.’

Izzy got a bag of ice cubes from the freezer and watched, fascinated, as Jemima applied them to her puffy eyes.

‘Old model-girl trick,’ she said between her teeth. ‘Being the face of Belinda has taught me a lot of those.’