The Millionaire Affair

‘On one condition—that you keep me company while I do.’

‘If you insist.’

‘Not at all. I’m asking you nicely!’

Emily laughed and went off to the kitchen. When she returned to the bedroom with a laden tray she found Lucas waiting with barely concealed impatience, the daily paper unopened beside him. ‘Sorry I was so long,’ she said breathlessly. ‘I’m used to cleaning your kitchen, but not cooking in it.’

‘Which you shouldn’t be doing at all,’ he said irritably.

‘Of course I should.’ She laid a clean towel across his chest. ‘Better use this now you’ve made the effort to change your bed.’ She handed him a fork and a plate of scrambled eggs on toast, then feeling a little awkward sat down again. ‘Salt, pepper?’ she asked. ‘I seasoned the eggs a bit, but you might want more.’

‘They’re perfect,’ he said, tasting them. ‘Now, entertain me while I eat. I can tell you’re not a Londoner. Where do you come from?’

‘Chastlecombe, in Gloucestershire.’

‘Snap—same county,’ he informed her with a grin. ‘We’re both country bumpkins, then.’

Anything less like a country bumpkin than Lucas Tennent was hard to imagine. Even lying in bed, haggard and feverish. ‘Speak for yourself,’ she said pertly, then bit her lip.

‘What now?’ he demanded.

‘I keep forgetting.’

‘Forgetting what?’ His eyes narrowed. ‘Oh, right. Me boss, you slave.’

Emily glared at him. ‘I wouldn’t put it quite like that!’

‘I should bloody well hope not,’ he said forcibly, and eyed his empty plate in surprise. ‘That was good. Thank you.’

Emily took his plate to the kitchen, then returned shortly afterwards with two mugs of coffee. She handed one to Lucas, then resumed her place in the chair. ‘You look a little better now,’ she said with approval.

‘I feel it.’ He drank with relish, then settled back against his pillows. ‘So tell me more, Emily. What course are you doing?’

She winced. ‘I lied about that.’

‘Did you now?’ he said, eyeing her flushed face with amusement. ‘So what exactly are you doing on that laptop of yours? Hacking into state secrets?’

‘Nothing so exciting. I’m trying my hand at a novel. I make a sort of rough draft of the next bit in my head while I’m cleaning, then get it down on my laptop later. But if I hadn’t been stupid enough to lie to you when you caught me,’ she added bluntly, ‘I wouldn’t be telling you this. No one else knows, not even my family.’

‘My lips are sealed,’ he assured her, hand on heart. ‘But why the secrecy?’

Her chin jutted. ‘I experienced a pretty humiliating form of rejection recently. If—or more likely when—the manuscript’s rejected, too, I’d rather no one knew about it.’

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