Falling For His Proper Mistress (7 page)

A quick sideways glance revealed her smile and the dimple in her cheek. “You know, I never gave that a thought—I told my Aunt I could catch a plane from LAX.”

Guy couldn't help himself, he gave a shout of laughter.

High above where the balloons floated sunrays glinted off a plane. “Matt is somewhere up there,” Avery said suddenly.

He sobered. “Matt?”

“My cousin.” There was an odd note in her voice. “You've seen him.”

He couldn't remember meeting her cousin. One thing his father's death had brought home was it was often better to
say nothing than to mouth an inane bunch of platitudes at someone's loss. First her parents, then her cousin, Matt. He decided to keep it factual.

“I don't remember meeting him. Was it in New York?”

“No, last night. In the sky lounge.”

Confused, he slowed and turned his head to stare at her.

“Dark hair. Tall.” She held her hand above her head, almost touching the roof of the SUV. “We shared a drink. You came in. And left before I could introduce you. He was at the champagne-and-oyster party the previous night, too. He flew home today.”

Her cousin. He switched his attention back to the road. The man who'd hugged her…was her cousin Matt. Not dead.

And not her lover.

Guy felt himself flush. After a moment of feeling like a complete idiot, he laughed. “You should have told me.”

“And ruined your fun?”

The agony of emotion that had stabbed him when she'd embraced Matt last night had been anything but funny.

“Not nice,” he said reprovingly.

Avery sounded unrepentant. “Serves you right for jumping to conclusions.”

“When you said he was up there, I thought you meant he was dead. Like my father.”

He nosed the SUV through an open gate into a field and came to a stop beside the chase vehicles. By the time he got to the passenger door, Avery was already on the ground.

“Guy—” she touched his arm “—I'm so sorry.”

Guy wished he'd kept his mouth shut. He didn't want her feeling pity for him. He wanted her teasing humor back. Everyone had been pussyfooting around the family since his father's death almost six weeks ago.

“There's a lot to do,” he said gruffly. “And almost two dozen hungry people who have just come off the high of a lifetime to feed.”

 

Guy was right. It was hectic.

After the balloonists landed the pilots shepherded them together for a celebration ceremony. Avery was conscious of the wonder on the faces of the new initiates, but there was no time to watch the ceremony as Guy and members of the Jarrod Ridge catering crew whipped up a scrumptious gourmet breakfast.

Mimosas—the orange juice and champagne fizzing in tall glasses, slices of melon, eggs Benedict, and bagels with smoked salmon and cream cheese were among the delicacies spread out on the tables that had been set up and laid with white linen and gleaming silver cutlery.

“How artistic it looks.” Avery stood back to admire the effect. “I don't know why you think the menu needs overhauling. It's perfect.”

“Delicious, too, I hope.”

She laughed at Guy's droll comment. “That's a given. Food always tastes better outdoors.”

“That so?”

She nodded emphatically. “Definitely so.”

“We'll have to test that theory out sometime.”

The first of the balloonists arrived at the tables, their faces glowing with excitement and their hair windblown.

“But not now,” Guy added, as he moved to stand behind where the serving tables were set up.

A tall Canadian loaded up his plate and paused beside Avery. “Where are you sitting?”

Avery smiled at him. He'd greeted her back in the lobby. He had a friendly grin and appeared popular with the group. “I'm only—”

Before she could complete the sentence and tell him she was part of the resort's crew, Guy spoke from behind her, “Avery is with me.”

The heavy-handed male warning was enough to make Avery see red.

A
very stalked away from Guy, and found herself saying, “Is there space at your table?”

The Canadian, whose name turned out to be Todd, introduced her to his group of friends and they all started to rave about how awesome the flight had been. But Avery found it hard to concentrate.

All she was aware of was Guy's smoldering presence at the next table.

Why did she care? He had no right to behave like a complete idiot over Todd. She and Guy weren't even a couple, darn it. He'd been the one who'd always made sure she tendered no hopes in that direction.

She had a job to do and she would do it. She wasn't about to let Uncle Art down. Nor was she going to put up with Guy's arrogance.

Avery speared a piece of melon and chewed.

At the back of her mind she was conscious that she wasn't
being totally fair on Guy. She'd allowed him to provoke her into saying and doing utterly stupid things—because he infuriated her.

You're so honest in bed,
he'd said on their way here,
there's none of the pretence women often play at.

If only he knew…

Instead of grasping the opportunity to admit how she'd misled him about Jeff, she'd chickened out.

Maybe she was the ‘fraidy cat Guy had called her. It was impossible to explain what had driven her to imply that she'd slept with Jeff. It had been such a stupid thing to do—heck, she didn't even understand the foolish impulse herself.

Draining the hot, aromatic coffee, she set the empty cup down on the table.

All she knew was that she'd wanted to hurt him as he'd hurt her with his belief that she was an easy little gold digger. But that was no excuse. When she'd discovered he'd never pimped her to Jeff she should have cleared up the misunderstanding then and there. Instead, she'd discovered a deep yearning for him to trust her unreservedly. When Guy had eyed her with disgust, she'd lost all sense.

And the damage had been done.

Oh, what a tangled web.

Now he had her back up with his dog-in-the-manger attitude about Todd. Again she'd instantly reacted, rebelling against his dark, thunderous glare. And proceeded to dig herself deeper into the mess she'd created.

What did Guy think she was going to do, in heaven's name? Sleep with Todd?

The frustration and anger cut deep.

Guy didn't trust her.

At the heart of it all, that was what hurt most. That was what made her act so perversely. Her disappointment at his lack of trust about Jeff…then Matt…and now Todd. God,
she'd just told him he'd been wrong about Matt, but did he learn? No, he simply leapt to the next wild conclusion about her.

If he knew her at all, Guy would never have believed her capable of that kind of betrayal. If he'd known anything about her he would've found it impossible to believe. She was really quite proper in her way. Not a wild wanton at all. But he hadn't cared to find out who she was. All he was interested in was a sexy body in his bed. Coupled with his distrust, that made her loath to tell him about her stupidity.

Yet despite her annoyance with Guy she found herself tasting the food and observing the guests and keeping mental notes about what they ate and what they pushed away.

 

Still annoyed an hour later, Avery escaped the ride back with Guy by hopping in one of the other resort minivans with the balloonists on the way back. But when they pulled up in the courtyard, Guy was waiting for her, his eyes still stormy.

“I'll introduce you to Louis Leclere, the chef at Chagall's.”

“I met him yesterday, at one of the talks I listened to,” Avery said. “He told me that you and he are old friends.”

The Frenchman had confessed that Guy had lured him to Jarrod Ridge just over a month ago.

Guy's mouth tightened. “Let me introduce you to the resort's head barman then.”

“Oh, I met him, too. Louis thoughtfully introduced us. In fact the three of us are meeting—” she glanced at her watch “—in thirty minutes. They're going to show me around the cellars. I better go change into something more suitable.” She gestured to the dust on the hem of her white jeans. “Otherwise I'll be late.”

“Avery,” Guy put a restraining hand on her arm, and
glanced meaningfully at Todd who was hovering nearby, “Louis tends to have a devastating effect on women. We have a policy that staff don't date guests—I've told him that already. But I wouldn't want you to tempt him to break the rules.”

Angrily, she shook off his hand. “Well, since I'm neither a guest nor staff but an independent contractor, that shouldn't affect me. Of course, that won't affect me asking Louis out on a date—he's staff, and I've always had a thing for French accents.” Guy glowered.

Jerk.

 

Avery spent the rest of the day avoiding Guy. Until he finally cornered her late that afternoon in the Sky Lounge where she was studying the proposed drink list for the winter ski season and jotting down notes into a moleskin notebook.

“I shouldn't have said what I did this morning about staff and guest liaisons,” he said abruptly halting beside the bar counter.

“No, you shouldn't,” she agreed, gazing unseeingly at the list in front of her. “You should've trusted me to behave with professionalism.”

Her rebuke was met with silence.

“Truce?” he said at last.

He had a long way to go. Setting the list down with a snap, Avery glanced up to find that Guy's confusion was written over every hard line on his face. “If you're not prepared to trust me, then so long as you treat me with the respect you accord other employees and contractors we have a truce.”

Heat flared in his eyes, turning them a smoldering, smoky gray. “Impossible. I can't treat you like I treat everyone else. We're lovers.”

“Shh!”

Avery glanced around to see if he'd been overheard. But the nearest group, three young women and two men, were clustered around the bar counter sipping margaritas and flirting furiously, showing no interest in her and Guy.

“Not any more.”

“But we were. We will be again. Soon.”

He brushed his fingers across her cheek and she flinched away. He couldn't help remembering how demonstrative Avery had been in New York, always ready to touch him, stroke him. With the exception of last night, all she'd seemed to have done since she came to Jarrod Ridge was back away from him.

“I don't want people knowing we had a relationship.”

That made it sound like she had no intention of considering his suggestion that they enter a more lasting arrangement during her stay.

He drew a deep breath. He wasn't going to accept that. They were not through yet. No woman walked out on him. “Avery, it's nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Not for you. Everyone will just think ‘what a stud', while I get the sniggers.”

“It won't be like that.” Guy raked his hand through his hair, but the dark, shaggy strands sprang stubbornly back.

After a pause during which her blue eyes dueled with his night-gray ones, he said, “Tell you what, let's have dinner at Chagall's tonight.”

Avery shook her head. “Can't you understand? I don't want to be seen out with you, Guy.”

“We need to talk more about what you'll be doing at Jarrod Ridge over the next few weeks.”

Avery had been dying to sample the dishes at the resort's premier restaurant. But she got the feeling that dinner was
less about setting up a professional work relationship than trying to get her back into his bed.

Why was he bothering to pursue her? It wasn't about her agreement to step into Uncle Art's shoes. Guy had been averse to that from the start, and he could easily contract another sommelier. Nor did she flatter herself that he wanted only her in his bed. He'd made his opinion of her clear. Finding another lover would be equally easy for a man like Guy. It had surprised her that he hadn't already acquired a new lover, until she'd realized that his father's death and the terms of his will had left Guy with no time to find a new girlfriend. How fortuitous for him that she'd turned up, saving him the bother.

No, the only attraction she held was the fact that she wasn't falling over herself to get back into his bed. How galling that must be when he'd already labeled her easy and a gold digger….

With a jolt she took in Guy looking at her expectantly, no doubt waiting for her to agree to dinner—and to serve herself up as dessert.

“No thanks, not tonight. It's been a long day, and I need a good night's sleep. Alone,” she added pointedly.

By the tight line of his lips she knew he'd gotten the message.

“Then I won't be seeing you for a few days,” he said. “One of the national supermarket chains is interested in stocking Go Green products, and Jeff and I are meeting with them in New York to hammer out an agreement.”

Avery forced herself not to react to the mention of Jeff-the-Jerk's name. What would it help? It wouldn't repair the damage she and Jeff between them had done or encourage Guy to trust her. He'd made it more than clear that his loyalty lay with Jeff, and the friendship and business relationship they shared.

All she said was, “Well, I hope your meeting is productive.”

“No reason why it shouldn't be. Oh, and speaking of meetings,” he added, “on the afternoon I get back we'll be having a progress briefing about the Food and Wine Gala before Blake flies out back to New York. You should be there.” Guy pointed to her notebook. “Some of the information you've collected will be very useful.”

 

By Thursday morning, Avery had convinced herself that she didn't care if Guy's loyalty lay with Jeff. All she wanted was a professional relationship with a man she'd been dumb enough to almost fall in love with. Her notebook clutched in her hand, she scanned the family room on the top floor of Jarrod Manor with interest. Forcing herself to ignore the impact that seeing Guy again had on her, she inspected the high beams, the woven rugs scattered over the landing, the wood finish that all combined to give a cozy, homey feel.

The Jarrods were seated around a sunken conversation pit in front of a fireplace, which in winter would give the room a warm ambience.

Blake patted the table to get everyone's attention. The group slowly fell silent. “Gavin…Trevor…you're both here. Anyone missing?”

Gavin and Trevor were remarkably similar-looking in coloring and build and even mood, Avery noticed. Much more so than Blake and Guy. She compared the twins. Their dark hair and determined jawlines were the only resemblance they shared.

“Except Melissa,” said Erica from an armchair set to one side. “She was feeling off color and went home.”

“She's been tired a lot lately,” said Christian, Erica's fiancé, who was perched on the arm of her chair. “Perhaps she should go see a doctor.”

Guy shuffled a pile of papers. “Okay, let's get down to business.”

Nothing could've more effectively made Avery realize how wrong he was for her. All he cared about was business…and sex.

Even his sister's health was of little concern to him.

Nothing about him made him a good prospect for the husband she wanted, for the father of the family she yearned for. So why had she wasted three whole days pining after the darn man?

He didn't want a family. Look how relieved he'd been when she'd told him there had been no consequences to their affair. If she'd had any sense she might've told him about the very light period she'd had and made him fret a little.

In fact, it was probably worth purchasing a pregnancy test just to make sure there'd been no slip. Not that she expected there to be a baby, but the two weeks she'd spent in Guy's bed in New York had been over her most fertile time of the month. She'd been on the Pill then, even though she was off it now.

She doodled on the pad on front of her. A row of daisies with smiling faces. She told herself that it was for the best that she couldn't have conceived. That she should be as happy as the daisies she'd captured on the legal pad.

After the meeting was over she'd go into town. Just to make sure.

 

Guy couldn't find Avery anywhere.

He'd unexpectedly missed her in the days he'd been gone, and now she'd vanished into thin air.

Rita confirmed Avery wasn't booked for a treatment in the spa. Nor had Louis seen her all morning—much as it galled him to ask his friend if he'd seen her. So she hadn't been to
Chagall's. Reception said she hadn't used her card to access her room.

He was dying to tell her about the success he'd had with Go Green. Jeff hadn't made the meeting in the end, and Guy had been left to do all the wheeling and dealing alone. It was the first time that Jeff had let him down, and Guy knew it could only be because his partner still felt awkward about having slept with Avery. The relationship between them had become strained.

Despite Jeff's absence, the supermarket chain had placed a large order, but there were tough deadlines and production would have to get moving. Now Guy found himself wanting to watch Avery tip her head to one side as she evaluated the progress he'd made, to hear her arguments against it. And watch her eyes widen and her head bob if she considered the opportunity as good as he did.

So where the hell was she?

Grumpily, Guy took his cell phone out from the chest pocket of his white business shirt and located her number. Three rings later her breathy voice greeted him. Instantly desire curled in his groin.

“Where are you?” he asked more brusquely than he'd intended.

“In town.”

She'd gone to town? Why? “You didn't tell me you were going.”

“You didn't ask.”

“Why the big secret?”

“It's not a secret.”

A chill feathered along his spine at the defensive note in her voice. Avery was not being completely truthful with him.
Why?