His After-Hours Mistress(2)

'One of these days you're going to cut yourself on that tongue of yours!' Roarke warned her. 'Doesn't anything blunt it?'

'If you're after sympathy, you've come to the wrong woman,' she told him  matter-of-factly. 'Just because you didn't get your own way for once,  there's no need to destroy the place. So you met a woman with a brain  cell or two. It was bound to happen some time.'

Roarke tutted reprovingly. 'You know something, Ginny? You're fixated  with my love life. Who said this has anything to do with a woman?'                       
       
           



       

Now that did surprise her. Roarke was like a magnet for women. He didn't  look dressed without one on his arm. That didn't mean to say he didn't  work hard at the business. It wouldn't be among the top in its line if  he didn't. But he played hard, too. She had listened to his tales of woe  before, and a woman generally entered the picture at some point. But  apparently not this time, if he was to be believed.

'It doesn't?' she queried, brows rising. If she had done him an  injustice, then she was prepared to apologise, however much it went  against the grain. She was about to open her mouth to do just that when  his eyes fell away from hers and he rubbed an irritated hand around his  neck.

'Actually, it is about a woman, but not the way you imagine,' he admitted reluctantly.

Intrigued by the palpable signs of his discomfort, Ginny slipped into  the nearest chair and crossed her legs, decorously smoothing down the  skirt of her violet-coloured suit. She had discarded the jacket earlier,  and wore a simple cream silk sleeveless blouse for comfort in the  oppressive summer heat.

'What do you imagine I'm imagining?' she challenged, her eyes following  him as he walked to his leather chair and sank into it with a heavy  sigh.

'The worst. You usually do,' Roarke shot back dryly, and Ginny laughed softly.

She spread her hands deprecatingly. 'Well, you've only yourself to blame  for that. You've never had to console one of your exes. The tales I've  heard make me shudder to think of them.' She gave a delicate shudder by  way of example.

'Don't believe everything you hear. It isn't my fault if they got their  hopes up. I never promised them for ever,' Roarke pointed out in his own  defence.

'That's what I told them. He isn't a one-woman kind of man. You'd be  better off cutting your losses and looking around for someone with more  staying power,' Ginny agreed.

His brows rose at that, and then he laughed. 'You're referring, I take  it, to that part of my life which I, clearly mistakenly, consider  private. Hasn't anyone ever told you you aren't supposed to interfere in  your employer's love life?'

'Your love life ceases to be private when you live it so publicly. Why,  scarcely a day goes by when you aren't photographed with one woman or  another hanging on your arm! Your little black book must be bursting at  the seams by now,' she protested scornfully.

Roarke steepled his fingers and looked at her over them. 'If I had one, which I don't.'

'No little black book? I don't believe it. Your sort of man always has one!'

'And just what sort of man is that?'

Ginny waved a hand airily. 'The sort who changes his woman as often as he changes his clothes.'

He tapped his thumbs together broodingly. 'I suppose a denial is out of the question?'

She shook her head. 'Hard to accept when I've seen the results of your handiwork.'

Roarke rubbed a finger down the bridge of his nose, then glanced at her  sardonically. 'You disapprove of everything about me, don't you?'

'Not everything, just your treatment of women.'

'You make me sound like some sort of playboy.'

'Your affairs are well catalogued in print,' she reminded him.

He clucked his tongue at her. 'The women you see me photographed with  are, for the most part, old friends. I'm often invited to events where I  require a partner, and I'd rather take a woman I know than find myself  seated next to a stranger. We spend an enjoyable evening together, and  then I take her home. End of story.'

Ginny looked sceptical. 'You can't mean to tell me all your dates end so tamely,' she scoffed, and he grinned wolfishly.

'Not at all, but that's my business, not yours.'

She couldn't argue with him there. She was walking a fine line as it  was. However, there was one thing she was curious about. 'Haven't you  ever considered finding one woman and sticking to her? Haven't you ever  been in love?'

That brought a mocking laugh from him. 'No, and I don't ever expect to  be. In my experience, happy ever after is just a fairy tale,  sweetheart,' he pronounced and she blinked, genuinely surprised.

'You don't believe in love?'

'What most people fall into is lust, though they prefer to give it the  name love because it sounds better.' Seeing her frown, Roarke leant  forward across the desk. 'I respect women for who and what they are. I  enjoy them, but I don't make promises I can't keep, and I refuse to  dress up the relationship as anything more than what it is.'                       
       
           



       

Ginny supposed she had to think well of him for that, but it was strange  to her to hear him speak that way about love. Despite her own  experiences, she still believed in love. She had just made the wrong  choice, that was all. This time she wasn't about to let herself be  blinded by passion into thinking love existed. Daniel was everything she  wanted in a man, and she was sure that her liking for him would grow  into love in the fullness of time.

'Don't you intend to get married and have children?' she couldn't help but ask curiously.

Sitting back again, Roarke shrugged. 'Sure, one day, but love will have nothing to do with it.'

'Your wife might disagree.'

'The woman I marry will know that she has my respect and loyalty. If and  when I make a vow, I'll never break it. I only intend to get married  once.'

'Sounds to me like you've had a nasty experience. What caused you to get so disenchanted with marriage?'

'Over-familiarity. My father has been married four times and my mother  is currently on her third husband. Both swore it was love each time, but  as soon as the passion faded, they headed for the divorce courts. I  have brothers and sisters dotted around the globe from their various  forays into the wedded state.'

Not exactly good role models, she agreed. 'It doesn't have to be that way for you.'

He shrugged. 'It isn't going to be. I intend to honour my vows-when I make them.'

'I'm pleased to hear it, but have you heard the one about leopards not changing their spots?' she gibed.

Roarke smiled. 'There's always an exception to the rule, sweetheart.'

'True, but I haven't seen any flying pigs recently,' Ginny mocked.

He gave her a long look for that, to which she smiled sweetly and he  grunted, 'I should have fired you months ago. Lord knows why I didn't.'

'Because it isn't in your power to do so. Your grandfather hired me, and  only he can fire me,' she told him confidently, only to see him give a  crocodile smile.

Tugging at the knot of his tie, he pulled it free and loosened the  buttons of his shirt. 'On the contrary. I could fire you at a moment's  notice. However, you're damn good at your job. You've a good eye for  colour and style, and we've heard nothing but acclaim for what you've  done so far.'

His praise gave her a warm glow inside, though she didn't let him know  it. 'Would this be a good time to ask for a rise?' she asked,  tongue-in-cheek, and he grinned appreciatively.

'You'd probably get it, too. A good worker is worthy of her hire.'

Ginny wasn't greedy. She had had a rise only a short while ago. The  company rewarded its workers for their efforts without prompting, and  she had received her share. That was enough for her. 'Don't worry, I  have no intention of taking you up on that. So, what did the poor  wastebasket do to incur your wrath?'

Reminded of what had happened earlier, Roarke let his expression become rueful. 'It grinned at me.'

Vastly amused, Ginny smiled. 'Grinned at you?'

'Knowingly,' Roarke confirmed.

'Ah,' she nodded wisely, knowing the feeling. 'Lunch was not a success.'

His laugh was scornful. 'To put it mildly. Which is why I need your help.'

Her mind was rioting with questions. Ginny reined them in. 'Things must be bad if you need my help.'

'You have no idea!'

Ginny waited for more, but when none came she frowned. 'Are you going to tell me, or is it a game of twenty questions?'

Roarke took a deep breath and swung his chair round so that he was facing her. 'My sister's getting married at the weekend.'

Whilst interesting, it was not quite what she was expecting. 'I'm sure I'm pleased for her, but what's that got to do with me?'

His eyes flashed sparks at her interruption. 'I was coming to that. I've been invited.'

It occurred to Ginny that he was uneasy about asking her for whatever it  was, and that was quite unlike the usual confident Roarke Adams.  Bemused, she nodded. 'OK, that was to be expected, but I still don't see  what that has to do with me.'