Morelli's Mistress (Harlequin Presents) Read online

  When she’d come to serve him, he’d been staggered—and angered—by his reaction. He’d had no idea she’d moved to the town and opened a café. She’d been a researcher in English at the university. An academic. As soon as he’d learned her real name from Harry, it had been easy enough to find out where she worked.

  He’d also discovered that her husband—Harry Laurence—had worked in the city. He was fairly well-known in stockbroking circles, although some people considered he was a bit of a barbarian.

  Luke had wondered if the bruise he’d seen on Abby’s neck that night had been put there by her husband. But then he remembered Harry’s boast that she would never leave him.

  And she hadn’t.

  She could have got a divorce. If she’d had any self-respect, she would have. Luke knew from his own unhappy experience, divorces were not that hard to come by.

  He wondered when she had got a divorce, and whether she’d been the one to initiate it. Recalling how she’d deceived her husband, Luke thought it was reasonable to assume he’d been the one who had finally wanted out.

  Even so, he hadn’t forgotten a moment of their time together. He could still taste her sweetness on his tongue. An affair that had never become an affair, he reminded himself bitterly. She’d left the wine bar with her husband, and, until today, he’d never seen her again.

  It didn’t please him that she was even more attractive now than she’d been five years ago. And oh, yes, he knew exactly how long it was since that scene at the Parker House.

  His presumed stumble over the years had been a deliberate attempt to disconcert her. Unfortunately, it had had the opposite effect.

  Had she gained a little weight? If so, it suited her. And her hair wasn’t as ghostly pale as it had been before. It was still thick, and a rich honey blonde, with silver highlights. But she’d drawn it back into a ponytail, exposing the delicate bones of her face.

  So why was he noticing these things? Did he want to risk her making a fool of him again? He still wanted to have sex with her. That much was unfortunately true. But it was just a physical thing and he had no intention of acting on it.

  She seemed to hesitate, and then said, ‘You left without your coffee this morning.’ A faint smile touched her lips. ‘Were you afraid I might poison it?’

  Luke’s lips tightened. ‘No, I can honestly say, that didn’t occur to me.’ Probably because he considered she was too clever to make a mistake like that, however much she might resent him.

  ‘Good.’ She caught her lower lip between her teeth. ‘I shouldn’t like there to be any animosity between us.’

  ‘Us?’ Luke scowled. ‘There is no “us”.’

  Faint colour touched her cheeks. ‘Not now. I know that.’

  ‘Not ever,’ he interrupted her harshly.

  ‘Okay.’ She paused, and then said hurriedly, ‘I hope you don’t think I’m trying to use our past—association—to influence you in your decision about—about the development.’

  ‘Oh, please.’ He held up a hand. ‘You couldn’t.’ He paused. ‘And I’d rather not be reminded that I was almost responsible for you cheating on your husband. Or maybe that wasn’t the first time.’

  Abby was furious. ‘If you remember, it wasn’t me who started it. You were on the lookout for a casual hook-up and I was there.’

  ‘That’s not true!’

  ‘Isn’t it?’ Her lips twisted. ‘I bet you thought you were onto a good thing.’

  ‘Well, I got that wrong, didn’t I?’ he snarled, and she shook her head disbelievingly.

  ‘I can’t believe you said that,’ she exclaimed. ‘How could I ever have been attracted to you?’

  ‘Abby...’

  To his frustration, the retriever chose that moment to wind itself about his legs, throwing him off balance. Without thinking, he tried to save himself by clutching her shoulder, and Abby’s arm curled automatically about his waist.

  The atmosphere was suddenly charged with tension. Luke was overwhelmingly conscious of Abby’s warm body close against his own. It was not a situation he’d engineered, but now that it had happened, he was unwillingly—and undeniably—aroused.

  Stifling a groan of anguish, he grabbed the leash and set himself free. ‘I think I should go.’

  ‘Yes, I think you should,’ she said tightly. ‘But don’t leave on my account. I’m going back to Harley’s myself.’

  For a moment, his mind was too caught up with other things. Primarily what he’d like to do to her body. Then he realised what she’d meant. ‘Oh, the café?’ he said flatly, and she nodded.

  Then, almost against her better judgement, she said, ‘Please don’t penalise any of the other tenants because of me.’

  ‘I don’t see how I could do that.’

  ‘Oh, don’t underestimate yourself, Luke.’ Abby spoke bitterly. ‘This isn’t an easy situation for any of us.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Are you?’ She didn’t sound as if she believed him. ‘Well, if you’ll excuse me...’

  Luke groaned. ‘What do you expect from me, Abby? Absolution?’

  ‘You’re joking!’ She held up her head. ‘I expect nothing from you, Luke. I never did.’

  Luke’s jaw hardened. ‘That wasn’t my impression. But, perhaps, I was wrong. I was wrong about so much else about you, wasn’t I?’

  ‘You arrogant bastard!’

  Abby grasped Harley’s leash in both hands and backed away from him. Her features were pale now and taut with outrage, and Luke knew a feeling of grim frustration. He hadn’t intended to hurt her, but he evidently had, and, unable to do anything else, he went after her.

  ‘Abby...’

  ‘Stay away from me!’

  ‘I don’t want to fight with you.’ He sounded as if he regretted what he’d said, and he didn’t like it.

  ‘Don’t you?’ he thought she muttered as she turned away from him and started back towards the road. ‘Well, don’t worry,’ she called back over her shoulder. ‘I’ll pretend this conversation never happened. Just get your solicitor to let me know when you want the café vacating, and I’ll be out of there.’

  With a feeling of defeat, Luke strode after her, grasping her arm and swinging her round to face him. There were tears staining her cheeks, he saw at once, and, unable to prevent himself, he lifted a hand and used his thumb to brush them away.

  ‘Don’t,’ she whispered, but he wasn’t listening to her. His mind was filled with images of the hot, steamy sex they might have shared if things had been different, and it was difficult to remember exactly why he shouldn’t be touching her.

  Her cheek was so soft beneath his fingers, and he allowed his hand to move lower until his thumb was stroking the parted contours of her mouth.

  She didn’t try to stop him. She was still gripping the retriever’s leash like a lifeline, but Luke was intoxicated by her scent. Unable to prevent himself, he bent towards her and covered her lips with his.

  Her mouth was hot and unexpectedly vulnerable, and all the emotions she’d aroused in him five years ago came flooding back.

  He knew instantly why he hadn’t forgotten her, why he could remember so well her taste and her smell. And the sensual pressure of her hips against his erection made sanity desert him.

  ‘Luke...’

  His name was barely audible. Her breath hitched, and her hand curling around his neck was so cold it burned him. Or perhaps it was his skin that was burning up with the sudden intensity of his desire.

  One thing was certain: he couldn’t let this go on. He knew that this stretch of open ground, despite supporting a few trees, was hardly private. And, unfortunately, they were not hidden by any of those trees.

  Apart from which, what in God’s name did he think he was doing?

  And then Harle
y barked, bringing an abrupt end to his uncertainty.

  Maybe the retriever had seen a cat or a rabbit. He’d started tugging on his leash, and Abby was forced to take an involuntary step away from Luke.

  ‘Harley,’ she exclaimed, and Luke expelled a hoarse breath.

  Dammit, he’d never thought he’d be grateful to a dog, but he was.

  ‘I’ve got to go,’ he said roughly as Abby endeavoured to calm the animal down.

  And without giving her time to say anything else, he strode away.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  A WEEK LATER, Abby had succeeded in putting what she preferred to call ‘Luke’s uncalled-for assault’ out of her mind.

  It had been an aberration, nothing more. On his part, and probably on hers, as well. For God’s sake, she’d thought she’d got what had happened five years ago into perspective. She was a free, independent woman these days; not the pathetic abused wife she used to be.

  It was late afternoon, and Lori had already gone to collect her daughter from school, and, as there were no customers, Abby decided to close up a little earlier than usual.

  It had been a dank afternoon, and frankly few people had been about. When the door opened, she thought her assistant must have forgotten something and had come back to collect it. But, instead, it was Greg Hughes.

  Her heart sank. She so wasn’t in the mood to talk to the photographer and, not for the first time, she wished she didn’t live over the café and could say she was on her way home.

  She’d just finished cleaning the coffee machine when he strolled over with a proprietorial air to rest his elbows on the polished counter.

  ‘You heard anything yet?’ he asked rudely, without offering a greeting, and Abby turned from her task to give him a cool stare.

  ‘I beg your pardon?’

  ‘I said...’

  ‘Yes, I heard what you said.’ Abby regarded him with cold inquiry. ‘I just don’t know what you’re talking about.’

  Greg scowled. ‘The development,’ he said impatiently. ‘Have you heard any more about the development?’ He paused. ‘I assume you’ve read your letter by now.’

  ‘Oh.’ The development and the developer were the last things she wanted to think about. ‘Then, yes, I’ve read the solicitor’s letter, and no, I haven’t heard anything else.’

  Greg sniffed. ‘Well, it’s a rum affair, if you ask me,’ he said. ‘I want to know what kind of compensation they’re offering.’

  ‘Compensation?’

  ‘Yes. They’ve got to pay me something for the eighteen months that are left on my lease. Until they do, I won’t know what kind of replacement premises I’ll be able to afford.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘’Course, you won’t have that problem, will you?’ he went on smugly. ‘By the time you get your marching orders, your lease will have run out.’

  ‘How do you know that?’

  ‘You told me you only had six months left.’ Greg was unrepentant. ‘I just wondered, as you seemed to know the guy, if he’d given you a heads-up.’

  Abby was tempted to lie and say she didn’t know Luke. But she couldn’t be sure that someone hadn’t seen them last week on the waste ground behind the shops.

  ‘I think I said I knew of his company,’ she said, hiding her crossed fingers. ‘I—well, I believe he was round here the other day, checking out his investment. Anonymously, apparently.’

  ‘Really?’ Clearly Greg hadn’t heard anything about this, and Abby realised belatedly that she’d virtually admitted recognising Luke.

  But Greg didn’t pick her up on it, evidently assuming someone else had told her the news. ‘Well, well,’ he said. ‘I wish I’d seen Morelli. I’d have felt like giving him a piece of my mind.’

  ‘Would you? That’s interesting.’

  Abby started in surprise. She’d been so intent on not giving Greg any reason to suspect she knew more than she was saying that she hadn’t heard the door open. Which wasn’t surprising because the bell was definitely on its last legs.

  Greg started, too, eyes turning apprehensively to look over his shoulder. But, he didn’t recognise the newcomer and a certain look of belligerence crossed his face.

  ‘Do you mind?’ he said, before Abby could say anything. ‘This is a private conversation.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry.’ Luke closed the door and crossed the café with lithe, easy grace. ‘I thought I heard my name mentioned. Something about giving me a piece of your mind, wasn’t it?’

  Greg’s jaw dropped. ‘You’re Morelli?’ he exclaimed disbelievingly, and Abby couldn’t say she was surprised.

  In jeans and a navy turtleneck, a leather jacket looking distinctly as if it had seen better days, Luke looked nothing like the successful entrepreneur she knew him to be.

  Evidently, Greg was taken aback, as much by Luke’s appearance as by what he’d said. He turned back to Abby, raising his eyebrows in stunned inquiry, and she made an involuntary movement of her shoulders that she hoped Luke hadn’t seen.

  ‘So...?’ Luke joined Greg at the counter. ‘Do you want to tell me who you are? I don’t believe I caught your name.’

  ‘It’s Hughes. Greg Hughes,’ the man muttered unwillingly. ‘I own the photography studio next door.’

  ‘I see.’ Luke nodded. ‘So, Mr Hughes, what did you want to say to me? I’m listening.’

  Greg’s jaw jutted defensively. Then, as if realising he had to say something, he said, ‘I just don’t agree with—with people—’

  ‘Like myself,’ put in Luke helpfully, and Abby sensed he was enjoying this.

  ‘Well, yeah.’ Greg sniffed. ‘I don’t think you realise how old this parade of shops is.’ And when Luke didn’t answer, ‘And you’re just going to pull them all down and put up a supermarket. It’s sacrilege, that’s what it is. Sacrilege!’

  Abby saw Luke give her an inquiring look. ‘Is this your opinion, as well, Mrs Laurence?’

  Abby flushed. ‘It’s Ms Lacey,’ she said, aware, with some irritation, that Greg was regarding her curiously now. ‘I—well, I resumed my maiden name after—after buying the business.’

  ‘Ah.’

  Luke’s dark eyes assessed her with disturbing intensity, and she was instantly aware that the ponytail, with which she’d started the day, was now shedding strands of damp hair onto her shoulders. She also still had on the apron she’d worn to clean the equipment, and she was sure it looked definitely the worse for wear.

  Dammit!

  ‘But you didn’t answer my question—Ms Lacey.’

  Luke was speaking again, but before she could respond Greg answered for her.

  ‘Of course she agrees with me,’ he exclaimed belligerently. ‘How do you think we all feel? This is our livelihood. And in Abby’s case, her home, as well.’

  ‘Really?’ Abby saw Luke absorb this piece of information and could have slapped Greg for giving out her personal details to a man she’d hoped never to see again.

  ‘Yes, really,’ Greg continued, apparently unaware of—or indifferent to—Abby’s feelings. ‘At least I had the sense to buy another house while property was cheap.’

  ‘I’m sure Mr Morelli isn’t interested in our problems, Greg,’ Abby inserted, glaring at him. She straightened her spine. ‘What can I do for you, Mr Morelli? Or did you just come here to sample my coffee?’

  ‘Hey, that’s a good idea,’ broke in Greg again, much to her frustration. ‘And you should try one of Abby’s blueberry muffins. If they don’t persuade you to think again about the development, nothing will.’

  ‘Greg!’ Abby was horrified. The last thing she wanted was for Luke to think that she and Greg Hughes had been conspiring against him. ‘I don’t think anything we say—or do—will change Mr Morelli’s mind.’

  * * *
>
  Luke crossed his arms, tucking his hands beneath his armpits. He was tempted to say ‘You got that right’, but, despite his feelings towards Abby, he was loath to embarrass her in front of this oaf.

  ‘Perhaps I will have a coffee, after all,’ he said, aware that his words were probably just as irritating to Abby’s ears as what Hughes had said had been. ‘If it’s not too much trouble.’

  He saw Abby’s lips tighten. ‘I’m afraid that’s not possible, Mr Morelli,’ she said stiffly. ‘I’ve just closed the machine down for the night.’

  Greg Hughes snorted. ‘Looks like you’re out of luck, Morelli,’ he said, not without a certain amount of satisfaction. He paused. ‘I guess you’ll just have to tell us what you’re doing here without one of the perks of the job.’

  Luke’s eyes narrowed. ‘I don’t believe I invited you to hear what I had to say to Ms Lacey,’ he remarked neutrally. ‘I’m sure you’ve got better things to do than stand around here talking to me.’

  The photographer scowled. Then he looked at Abby. ‘Do you want me to go, Abby?’ he asked pointedly. ‘I can stick around for a bit, if you’d rather.’

  Luke could tell Abby had mixed feelings. He sensed she was no friend of the photographer, but then she was no friend of Luke’s either.

  ‘That’s okay, Greg,’ she said after a moment. ‘I’m good. I’ll let you know later if Mr Morelli has any news.’

  She was anything but good, thought Luke grimly, as, with some reluctance, Greg Hughes let himself out of the café. And now they were alone, she was evidently eager for him to be gone, too.

  As soon as the door had closed, she said, ‘I was of the opinion we had nothing more to say to one another, Mr Morelli. And as I was about to close the café, I’d be grateful if you could get to the point of this visit.’

  In truth, Luke wasn’t absolutely sure what the point of his visit was. Okay, his father had phoned and said he’d got a touch of flu, but that wouldn’t normally have been reason enough for Luke to abandon any meetings he’d had arranged and drive down to Bath to see him.