Mistress Against Her Will

He laughed mirthlessly. ‘I would say we’re already about as up close and personal as it’s possible for two people to get.

‘But before I make love to you I would like to know why you’re still wearing another man’s ring.’

‘I don’t want you to make love to me. It’s all been a terrible mistake. I should never have let things go this far.’

‘Why did you?’ he asked interestedly.

‘Because I… I…’

As she floundered, he drawled, ‘Don’t bother to think up any lies. You let things go this far because you couldn’t help yourself. You want to go to bed with me.’

Lee Wilkinson lives with her husband in a three-hundred-year-old stone cottage in a Derbyshire village, which most winters gets cut off by snow. They both enjoy travelling, and recently, joining forces with their daughter and son-in-law, spent a year going round the world ‘on a shoestring’ while their son looked after Kelly, their much loved German shepherd dog. Her hobbies are reading and gardening, and holding impromptu barbecues for her long-suffering family and friends.

Recent titles by the same author:

THE PADOVA PEARLS

WIFE BY APPROVAL

THE BEJEWELLED BRIDE

Dear Reader

As Mills & Boon celebrate their centenary in 2008, this is a great time to acknowledge how much pleasure and romance they have brought to their readers worldwide, and to say a big ‘thank you’ for the small part they have allowed me to play in their success.

It’s over fifteen years since they accepted my first story, and I was warmly welcomed into the fold. Since then, backed by a wonderful team of dedicated people, I’ve written thirty-five books for Mills & Boon, and had a great deal of fun and excitement doing it.

I always choose locations that I know, and that mean a lot to me, and I have to confess that, although I’m very happily married, I always fall a little in love with my current hero. I particularly enjoyed writing my latest book, MISTRESS AGAINST HER WILL, and I hope that you will enjoy reading it just as much.

Love

Lee Wilkinson

MISTRESS AGAINST HER WILL

BY

LEE WILKINSON

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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CHAPTER ONE

IT WAS early, barely seven twenty-five, and London’s morning traffic was still flowing fairly freely as Paul’s pale blue Jaguar purred towards the city centre.

Normally, Gail knew, he would have been enjoying a leisurely breakfast before embarking on the day’s business meetings. Judging by the look on his fair, handsome face, having his routine disrupted did nothing to improve his temper.

Sitting in the front passenger seat beside him, she sighed. She had told him more than once that she could make her own way to Jenson Lorenson’s prestigious London offices. But, in spite of earliness of the hour and the personal inconvenience, he had insisted on picking her up and driving her there himself.

He had arrived early and, stressed and harassed when she’d changed handbags at the last minute, she had omitted to pick up her notecase. All she had with her was her purse, which contained her credit card and some small change.

When she mentioned the oversight to Paul, he said irritably, ‘I don’t see what you’re worrying about. You won’t need it.’

Perhaps he was right. With a bit of luck there would be just about enough to get a bus back home.

‘Now don’t look flustered, whatever you do,’ he instructed her as they stopped for a red light. ‘Lorenson expects his personal staff to be cool and efficient. You’ve let this thing get to you and, now the crunch has come, you’ll need to keep your composure.’

After a sleepless night, she felt washed out and on edge and in no mood to be preached to. ‘I just wish there was some other way to achieve what you want,’ she blurted out desperately. ‘I hate all this lying and scheming.’

‘There’s no need to tell a lot of lies; in fact it’s much safer to stick to the truth whenever possible. Your working background is solid and reliable, and you’ve got all the qualifications and experience Lorenson’s looking for.

‘Added to that, you’ve been recommended by a woman he trusts, so there’s no reason for him to suspect anything. All you have to do is forget that we two have ever met and you can’t go wrong.’

Glancing at her, he added, ‘By the way, you did remember to take off your ring?’

‘Yes.’ The three stone diamond engagement ring that Paul had bought her was on a thin gold chain around her neck.

‘Don’t forget to emphasize that you have no ties and there’s no current boyfriend. Lorenson has a massive office complex in Manhattan and he likes his Personal Assistant to be free and unencumbered, to be able to travel to his New York offices with him at the drop of a hat.’

‘Oh, but I—’

‘He’s not an easy man to work for like Randall was. You’ll have to be prepared for someone cold and arrogant and uncaring. Someone who expects his staff to jump when he says jump.’

‘How do you know all this?’

‘My sister, Julie, made a point of getting to know the woman who used to be Lorenson’s PA. Apparently she’d been with him for over five years, and would still be working for him now if she wasn’t planning to get married…’

As the lights changed to green, he went on, ‘She told Julie that though he expects a twenty-four hour commitment, she rates him as a good boss…’

‘When you say a twenty-four hour commitment,’ Gail began uneasily, ‘you don’t think he’ll…?’

‘No, there’ll be no funny business. Lorenson isn’t known for mixing work and pleasure. Quite the opposite, in fact.’

‘Then he’s married?’

‘No, and never has been. His ex-PA, who admitted she’d once been madly in love with him, told Julie she’s convinced that there’s no real place in his life for a woman.

‘However, he’s a good-looking devil,’ Paul admitted grudgingly, ‘and it appears that when he wants a woman to warm his bed there are always plenty only too willing to jump in with him. So you’ve nothing to fear on that score.

‘Once you’ve got the job, all you have to do is be your normal efficient self and everything should be plain sailing.’

Gail wasn’t convinced by his blasé attitude. ‘But even if I do get it I’ll be new, an unknown quantity. He may not trust me with—’

‘The word is,’ Paul broke in, his blue eyes impatient, ‘that once he’s chosen his personal staff he trusts them. He won’t hire someone he doesn’t trust. So you shouldn’t have any trouble on that score…’

Somehow, knowing that only made her feel worse.

Oblivious to her mental discomfort, Paul was going on, ‘I’ve had a report from someone I’d already planted—the plans for the Rainmaker project should be finalized in the next few weeks, which means we’re just in the nick of time.

‘As soon as you’ve managed to see those plans and get the latest gen, just let me know.’

He made the whole thing sound so casual, so innocuous, Gail thought helplessly, but to her it was spying, pure and simple, and she hated the thought of being involved.

But after days of unrelenting pressure Paul had made it a test of her love….

‘There’ll never be another opportunity like this. With his present PA leaving just as the Rainmaker project is going through, and you being out of a job, this is exactly the chance I’ve been waiting for.

‘Lorenson has a reputation for being daring, for sticking his neck out when it comes to these really big deals. That’s how he comes to be a billionaire at just turned thirty. If he intends to play it the same way this time and I know about it in advance I can be waiting with a hatchet.

‘This is important to me.’ He took her hand and squeezed it by way of emphasis. ‘I have to know what’s in those plans. I need to be at least one jump ahead.’ Taking her hand to his lips and pressing a kiss to her palm he continued, ‘That way, if I can’t bring him down altogether, and he may be too powerful for that,’ Paul admitted regretfully, ‘at the very least, I can bring him to his knees.

‘All I need is some reliable inside information, and when you’re his PA it’ll be a doddle…’

When Paul had first mentioned Jenson Lorenson, Gail had felt her heart stop, then start to race again uncomfortably fast.

‘Jenson Lorenson?’ she echoed warily.

‘Don’t tell me you’ve never heard the name. It’s a big Anglo-American concern. It was started in the States by Richard Jenson just as the boom in electronics really got under way.

‘When Jenson retired five years ago, he made the company over to Zane Lorenson, his nephew, who’d been his right-hand man for a number of years…’

So it was him.

Unbidden, a mental picture of Zane Lorenson filled her mind. Tall, black-haired, broad-shouldered and narrow-hipped… A lean, tanned face with strong features… A mouth like a fallen angel, and long, heavy-lidded dark green eyes. Handsome eyes. Eyes that seemed able to look into her very soul.

A shiver ran through her.

Paul went on, oblivious to her reaction. ‘Lorenson, who had an American mother and an English father, is a clever swine and brilliant when it comes to business. He added the Anglo part, moved into Information Technology and Research and Development and trebled the company’s profits inside two years…’

‘But I don’t see what—’

Paul cut in, speaking over her. ‘He’s an old adversary. That swine was responsible for my first company going down, and I’ve hated his guts ever since. Now, with your help, I’ve a chance to derail the Rainmaker project and get some of my own back.’

Gail turned to him, wide-eyed. ‘With my help? Oh, but I—’

‘Just listen. It should work like a dream…’

While he outlined the scheme her agitation grew. As soon as she could get a word in edgeways she said in a rush, ‘No, Paul. I don’t want anything to do with it.’

Once again, he dismissed her protest. ‘It won’t be difficult. Think about it. I’m sure you’ll change your mind.’

‘I won’t change my mind.’

With a smile that would normally have melted her heart, he coaxed, ‘Come on, sweetie, do it for me.’

Even if it hadn’t involved Zane Lorenson she wouldn’t have wanted to do it. But as it did, there was no way…

‘I’d never be able to bring it off.’

Well aware that she was besotted with him, and wondering at her unusual reluctance to toe the line he had marked out for her, Paul demanded, ‘Surely you could at least try?’

Her lovely mouth set in a determined line, she shook her head. ‘I don’t want to get involved.’

Paul turned to meet her gaze and said somewhat sharply, ‘You once said you’d do anything for me.’

‘I said anything I could do. But this is something I can’t do,’ Gail pleaded.

‘Why can’t you?’

She shook her head, helplessly. ‘I just can’t.’

‘There must be a reason,’ he pressed.

Cornered, she blurted out, ‘I once knew him.’

‘How do you mean, you once knew him?’

‘I met him when I was living in the States. He was…friends with Rona.’

‘Your stepsister?’

Gail nodded. ‘Yes.’

‘I thought you’d been back in England for quite a few years?’

‘I have—’

Paul brushed off her concerns. ‘So it must have been some time ago?’

‘Seven years.’ She didn’t add that for seven long years Zane Lorenson’s image had haunted her. ‘I was just seventeen.’

‘Did you know him well?’

‘No…’ In spite of what had happened, she hadn’t really known him at all.

Awkwardly, she added, ‘But we met two or three times and I—’

His face impatient, Paul butted in, ‘When your mother remarried after your own father’s death, did your new stepfather adopt you?’

‘No.’

‘In that case you and your stepsister must have different surnames.’

‘Yes, but—’

‘Then what are you worrying about? Your name won’t ring a bell, and if you only met each other two or three times he’s hardly likely to remember you after seven years.’

‘But suppose he did?’

‘If by any faint chance he did, would it matter?’

‘Yes, it would… You see I—’

‘My dear girl,’ Paul interrupted peevishly, ‘do you seriously believe there’s a cat in hell’s chance of him recognising you after all this time…?’

The honest answer was no. She had been less than nothing to the young Zane Lorenson. Until Rona had turned that cruel spotlight on her, he hadn’t even been aware of her existence.

‘If you really think there might be a problem, for goodness’ sake find some way of altering your appearance; get some glasses or something.

‘But I’m quite certain you’re worrying over nothing. In the last seven years you must have altered a great deal.’

She had.

In those days she had been just a gawky adolescent, a late developer, painfully shy and gauche, and still with the remains of a northern accent.

Then, goaded by Rona, and hopelessly in love with a man she had only seen from afar, she had set about changing her image.

Only to be laughed at and ridiculed by her stepsister who, at twenty-three, had been beautiful and glamorous and worldly.

But that hadn’t been the worst…

She pushed the memory—still unbearably shameful and humiliating even after all these years—away and tried to concentrate on what she had become.

To all intents and purposes she was now a cool, self-possessed young woman with dark glossy hair, a clear skin, a good figure, a polished manner and no trace of an accent.

No, in all truth, Zane Lorenson was hardly likely to recognize her.

But remembering how he had looked at her the last time they’d met—his set lips, the cold fury in those green eyes—she still didn’t want to take the risk.

‘I don’t want to have to see him again. I’m afraid…’ About to say, I’m afraid of him, unwilling to have Paul laugh at her, she changed it to, ‘I’m afraid I don’t like him. I’d simply hate to have to work for him.’

Paul’s fair face darkened. ‘I think in the circumstances that’s a very selfish attitude. After all, it wouldn’t be for long. As soon as you’ve got the information I want, you can make some excuse and leave.’

Her grey eyes beseeching, she begged, ‘Please, Paul, don’t ask me to do this.’

Such a heartfelt plea ought to have melted stone. But his expression hard, unrelenting, he said, ‘It’s not as if it’s that much to ask, and you’d do it for my sake if you really loved me.’

As, hating that look of censure, the feeling that she was letting him down, she wavered, he pressed, ‘Of course if you don’t there’s not much point in our getting engaged.’

‘I do love you.’

‘Then prove it.’

Finally giving in to the pressure, she agreed unhappily. ‘Very well, I’ll try.’

Triumphantly, he drawled smugly, ‘That’s my girl. I always knew you wouldn’t let me down.

‘Now just one thing, no one else must know, so don’t say anything to that flatmate of yours. Simply tell her you’ve got another job.’

She looked across at him, still worried about the plan. ‘I might not get it.’

‘Of course you will. It’s practically a cert.’

As a reward for toeing the line, he had taken her out and bought her an engagement ring.

With his red-gold hair and Greek god looks, his bright blue eyes and long curly lashes, the boyish smile that added to his charm, most women he came into contact with were bowled over.

Gail had been no exception.

He had called one morning to see David Randall, her ex-boss, and after years of thinking she would never fall in love again, she had done just that.

A small, privately owned company, Randalls had been highly successful, coming up with some brilliant ideas that seemed set to revolutionize their particular branch of electronics.

They had been on the point of putting the new ideas into practice when David Randall had had a heart attack which had made him decide to sell out and retire at the early age of fifty-five.

The Manton Group, which Paul owned, had made an offer for the company, but it had been a derisory offer in David Randall’s opinion.

As the negotiations dragged on, Paul had become a frequent visitor, often stopping by Gail’s desk to have a chat. When one day he asked her to have dinner with him, she had been both flattered and flustered.

From then on he had taken her out a good deal and, though he had been both romantic and ardent, unlike her previous boyfriend, he had made no attempt to take her back to his place or get her into bed.

This restraint, as well as his good looks and his undeniable charm, had set him apart and deepened her feelings for him.

Finally the business deal had gone through and David Randall had left the company he had built up single-handed, satisfied that he had negotiated a fair deal for his employees.

But, as soon as Randalls was his, Paul had paid off staff and workers alike and closed the company down.

When, badly shaken, her liking and respect for Paul diminished, Gail had ventured to protest, he had answered that all the employees had received a generous cash settlement and most of them had been quite content.

‘But it isn’t what David intended,’ she insisted. ‘He spent a lifetime building up that company. He regarded his workers almost as family, and he wanted them all to keep their jobs—’

‘My dear girl, you ought to know by now that there’s no sentiment in business. Randalls was opposition we could well do without. A thorn in our side that had to be removed,’ he answered dismissively.

‘That wasn’t what you told David Randall,’ she said accusingly. ‘You gave him to understand that nothing much would change.’

Paul shrugged. ‘It was business, darling. He may have chosen to believe otherwise, but this was the best decision all round, I promise.’

Seeing she was still far from happy, and needing to keep her on his side for what he had in mind, he pulled her close and kissed her. ‘Now let’s forget all about work. If you really want another job, I’ll give you one. But I thought you might prefer to be Mrs Paul Manton…’

Paul wanted to marry her. Still besotted by him, in spite of all that had happened, she floated up to cloud nine.

‘But before we start planning the wedding, there’s something I want you to do for me…’

She had come down to earth again with a bump when he’d explained what it was he wanted her to do and, even with his engagement ring on her finger, her joy had been marred by the thought of what was in store.

‘This job you want me to apply for—’ she broached the subject with reluctance ‘—how shall I go about it?’

‘Don’t worry about that. I know Mrs Rogers, the woman who runs the employment agency that Lorenson uses. I’ll ask her to see you and recommend you for the position.’

Gail had found herself hoping that for once in his life Paul wouldn’t succeed in pulling strings and manipulating people.

But, with the kind of looks and charm that made slaves of the female sex, he had, and she had been asked to call and see Mrs Rogers.

The following day the agency had rung to say that an interview had been arranged.

Though pleased that everything had so far gone according to plan, Paul had complained bitterly about the earliness of the hour.

‘Lorenson wants you to be at his office at eight o’clock! Why the hell can’t he work nine to five like most people?

‘Well, you’ll just have to take care not to be late. The swine is a stickler for punctuality and you’ll need to look cool.’

Then, with a thoughtful glance at her face, ‘Perhaps I’d better pick you up.’

‘There’s no need to do that. I can make my own way there. I’ll get a taxi if necessary.’

After a moment or two’s consideration, he said decidedly, ‘No, it’ll be best if I come round and collect you.’

She had strongly suspected that it was in case she chickened out at the last minute.

Whatever his reason, he had picked her up on the dot of seven fifteen, so now here she was, on her way to be interviewed for the position of PA to a man she had hoped never to have to see again.

Talk about being caught between the devil and the deep blue sea, she thought miserably. If she didn’t get it, Paul would be furious with her. If she did, she would be in an invidious position…

‘We’re almost there.’ His voice broke into her unhappy thoughts. ‘Lorenson’s offices, as well as his own private apartment, are in the Clairmont Building on Lower Arlington Street. But, just to make certain no one spots you getting out of my car, I’ll drop you at the corner.’

When they reached their destination, he drew in to the kerb and issued his last instructions. ‘Now don’t forget, try not to look flustered whatever you do, or all this planning and preparation will be wasted.

‘And don’t breathe a word about me. Lorenson would soon be on his guard if he picked up any suggestion that we know each other.’ His gaze held a warning and Gail looked away as he continued, ‘When the interview’s over and you’re well away from Lorenson’s offices, you can give me a quick call and let me know for sure if you’ve got the job.’

Gail hesitated, still uncertain and unsure. ‘But suppose one of his staff is doing the interviewing and is just compiling a short-list?’

‘According to Mrs Rogers, Lorenson doesn’t work that way. The people he wants on his own staff he always interviews personally, and usually he makes an on-the-spot decision.’

Gail’s heart sank. She had held on to the faint hope that it might be one of his minions she would have to see, and that said minion would prefer some other candidate, thus giving her a let-out. But it seemed it wasn’t to be.

Urgently in need of reassurance, she asked, ‘When shall I see you? Lynne will be out tonight if you want to come round for a meal.’

‘Once Lorenson knows where you live, it might not be safe.’

Trying to keep the tell-tale tremor out of her voice, she suggested, ‘Well, couldn’t we meet in the park, or at a restaurant, or something?’

But, instead of softening, those eyes, blue as summer skies, looked at her dismissively. ‘It’s too big a risk. We can’t afford to jeopardise our chances by possibly being seen together.

‘After you’ve let me know the score it would be better if we don’t have any contact until you’ve something to report.’

‘Oh,’ she said blankly.

‘When you have, you’d better give me a ring at the office and we’ll meet up somewhere.’

He leaned over and gave her a quick peck on the cheek. ‘Now don’t forget how much this means to me. Good luck.’

Feeling slightly sick, her stomach full of butterflies, Gail unfastened her seat belt, opened the door and got out.

Already the air was warm and the summer sunshine bright, glancing off the bodywork of passing cars and gleaming on pavements still damp from the early morning shower.

As the Jaguar drew away, she lifted her hand but, a slight frown on his good-looking face, Paul was staring straight ahead.

Opening her bag, she took out the pair of cheap low-strength reading glasses she’d bought in the local chemist and put them on.

Then bracing herself, she walked the short distance to the Clairmont Building, with its handsome Georgian façade, and through the imposing main entrance.

The clock above the reception desk showed it was ten minutes to eight, so she was in good time.

As, her heart beating fast and her legs feeling oddly shaky, she started to cross the marble-floored lobby, she caught sight of herself reflected in one of the long gilt-framed mirrors.

Wearing a smart charcoal-grey suit and an off-white blouse, her small heart-shaped face outwardly calm, her dark hair in a smooth coil, she looked every inch the cool, efficient businesswoman.

No one would have guessed at her inner turmoil as she approached the desk and gave her name to the pretty blonde receptionist.

‘You’ll find the office complex on the second floor, Miss North. If you would like to go straight up, Mrs Bancroft, Mr Lorenson’s secretary, will be waiting for you.’

When Gail stepped out of the lift on the second floor she was greeted by an attractive middle-aged woman with bobbed iron-grey hair.

‘I’m Claire Bancroft. If you’d like to follow me, Miss North…’

As Mrs Bancroft led the way along the carpeted corridor to another lift, she remarked, ‘Mr Lorenson is in his apartment this morning. He likes to keep the interviews he conducts informal.’

Entering a four digit code into a small panel, she added, ‘This is his private lift.’

The lift took them up to the top floor, where they emerged into a quietly luxurious hallway. Opening the nearest door, Mrs Bancroft said, ‘Please come in, Miss North…’

Gail found herself ushered into a large sunny room with an off-white and mint-green decor and an ornate plaster ceiling. To the left, a door into a neighbouring room stood slightly ajar.

Between two sets of windows was a desk with an impressive array of the latest electronic equipment and a black leather chair.

Apart from the businesslike desk, the room was furnished as a lounge.

‘Perhaps you’d like to take a seat?’ Mrs Bancroft suggested with a friendly smile. ‘Mr Lorenson knows you’re here. He’ll be with you in a minute or so.’

When the other woman had gone, too nervous to sit and cravenly grateful for even this short breathing space, Gail looked around curiously.

Along with some lovely antique furniture, there were a couple of comfortable-looking couches, several soft off-white leather armchairs and a large round coffee table.

A thick-pile smoke-grey carpet covered the floor and on either side of a beautiful Adam fireplace, which was filled with fresh flowers, there were recessed bookcases, their shelves overflowing.

Considering how very strongly she had felt about Zane Lorenson, aside from his appearance, she had known hardly anything about the man himself, what he was really like, what his tastes were.

This appeared to be the room of a man with eclectic tastes, a man who preferred his surroundings to be both simple and elegant.

On the walls several stark and dramatic snow scenes by Jonathan Cass rubbed shoulders with the vibrant colour and slumberous warmth of Tuscan landscapes by Marco Abruzzi.

Frowning a little, she studied them. With such diverse techniques and subject matter, they shouldn’t have been hung together. But somehow the contrast worked, highlighting them both.

It seemed that Zane Lorenson was a man who knew precisely what he wanted and wasn’t afraid to try the less obvious.

Her mother had always said that one could get a good idea of a person’s character from what kind of books they read so, taking a deep breath, Gail moved closer to the bookcases and looked at their contents.

Classics and poetry, travel and adventure, mysteries, biographies, autobiographies, the best popular paperback fiction and Booker Prize winners jostled for space.

She had picked up a copy of a recent Booker Prize winner when, glancing up, she met a pair of brilliant dark eyes.

He was leaning negligently against the door jamb, his tough, good-looking face shrewd, calculating, an arrogant tilt to his dark head.

Wearing a smart light-weight suit, a crisp shirt and tie and handmade shoes, he looked every inch the billionaire businessman. He also looked fit and virile and dangerous.

Though she had braced herself to see him again, the shock hit her like a blow over the heart and in that instant her heartbeat and her breathing, the very blood flowing through her veins, seemed to stop.

She had remembered how he looked—of course she had, his face had haunted her for years—and, apart from an added maturity, he looked much the same now as he had then.

But in the intervening years she had almost forgotten just what a powerful impact his physical presence had on her.

While she stood rooted to the spot, endeavouring to pull herself together, he continued to stand and study her in unnerving silence.

It seemed an age, but could only have been seconds, before she released the breath she was holding and her heart began to beat again in slow, heavy thuds.

How long had he been standing there quietly watching her while she’d nosed amongst his personal belongings?

She felt herself shrivel inwardly. Her one consolation was that the cool green gaze fixed on her face held no sign of recognition. But she had known it wouldn’t.

As soon as she had managed to regain some semblance of composure, she thrust the book she was holding back on to the shelf and said unevenly, ‘I’m sorry; I was just…’

‘Taking a look at what I read? What conclusion did you come to?’

His voice was low-pitched and attractive. It was a voice she had never forgotten. A voice she would have known amongst a million. A voice that could have called her back from the grave.

Shaken afresh, she said the first thing that came into her head. ‘That you have interesting tastes.’

‘Really? Do you?’ he drawled nonchalantly.

‘Yes, I believe so.’

‘What about the pictures?’ He nodded towards the impressive artwork.

So he had watched her studying those as well. ‘I like them.’

His gaze narrowed. ‘Do you know who painted them?’

‘Yes.’

‘How do you know?’

She raised her chin, trying to give an air of authority and calm. ‘Though these are clearly originals, and I can only afford prints, Jonathan Cass and Marco Abruzzi are two of my favourite artists.’

He raised a dark, level brow. ‘My, my, we do seem to have a lot in common. Wouldn’t you say so?’