His After-Hours Mistress(8)

'For the love of Mike, keep your voice down,' he ordered in an urgent undertone, whilst Ginny glared at him over his hand.

'Take your hands off me!' she ordered, sounding both angry and garbled.

'What?' Roarke asked absently, intent on listening for sounds outside the now closed door.

Ginny chose a more direct method of communication, and the business end of her heel connected with his shin.

'Ow!' he exclaimed, releasing her to rub at the damaged area.

Stepping out of reach, Ginny folded her arms wrathfully. 'I said, take  your hands off me,' she repeated for his benefit, and Roarke  straightened up. 'Why didn't you tell me we would be sharing a room?'  she demanded to know.

'Because I forgot,' he growled back.

She laughed incredulously. 'You forgot? You can't seriously expect me to believe that?'

Grey eyes glowered at her. 'Right now, I don't care what the hell you  believe. The truth is I forgot. I use this room when I'm alone or when  I'm not, and you aren't the one I was supposed to be with. The  arrangements were made ages ago, remember?'

Some of the initial anger drained out of her at his explanation, but  that didn't mean she was happy with the situation. 'OK, you forgot, but  that doesn't mean I intend to share this room with you, Roarke.'

Satisfied that there was no serious damage, Roarke abandoned his  examination of his shin and gave her a blunt look. 'You're going to have  to.'

That set her nostrils flaring. 'I don't have to do anything!' she declared, bringing a mocking smile to his lips.                       
       
           



       

'The woman in my life shares my room, and so far as this family is  concerned you are the woman in my life. Get used to it. You're staying  here.'

Ginny would have given anything to be able to counter his argument, but  she could not. She had agreed to play a part, and apparently that meant  sharing this room with him. That being the case, she was going to lay  down some ground rules right now.

'OK, so we share the room. We don't share the bed. You can sleep on the  couch,' she ordered coldly, and that brought a glint of amusement back  to his eyes.

'Sure you don't want me to sleep in the bath?' he mocked, and she returned the smile with saccharine.

'Don't tempt me!' she threatened, and went across to the bed to pick up  her case. 'Before I get changed, is there anything else you've forgotten  and would care to tell me about?'

He shrugged, hands busying themselves with the buttons of his jacket,  which he removed and tossed on to the bed along with his tie. 'Nothing  springs to mind,' he declared, starting on the buttons of his shirt.

Ginny found herself staring as if hypnotised. For reasons she couldn't  afterwards explain, she couldn't seem to take her eyes off the movement  of his fingers. It was only when they paused near his waist that she  blinked and looked up-to find him watching her with a wicked glint in  his eye.

'Want to help?' he invited in an ever so slightly husky voice.

Realising what she had been doing, and how it would be perceived, Ginny  felt a wave of heat storm into her cheeks. 'You've been undressing  yourself long enough to know what you're doing,' she responded tautly,  swinging on her heel and heading for the nearest door.

Opening it, she came to a halt. It wasn't the bathroom. She closed her  eyes, waiting for the remark that was bound to follow. He didn't keep  her waiting long.

'You can use my dressing-room if you like, but yours is the other side  of the bed, and the bathroom is to the right of the fire,' Roarke said  in that friendly, helpful way that made her want to commit serious  bodily harm.

Bracing herself, Ginny turned and met eyes dancing with amusement.  'Thank you,' she gritted out through her teeth, and followed his  directions to the other side of the room. Once safely inside the  bathroom, she shot the bolt and leant back weakly against the door.

Oh, God, she had just made a complete and utter fool of herself. And  why? Because she had been unnerved by finding she had been staring at  him whilst he began to undress! What on earth had made her do that? She  groaned aloud. He would never let her live it down. She just knew in her  bones that he would be throwing it in her face from now till kingdom  come.

To cap it all, she was having to share the room with him. Sometimes life  was darned unfair. Thank goodness she had thought to bring a robe with  her, for, although it was made of some silky material, it covered her  from neck to toe. She wouldn't have to swan around in next to nothing in  front of him.

With that grateful thought, Ginny set her case down on top of the  laundry basket and drew out the two-piece she would wear that night. It  didn't take her long to wash off the dust of travel and refresh her  make-up, then slip on her stockings and shoes. Finally, she reached for  the two-piece. The skirt was simple, black and clingy, whilst the top  had a beadwork pattern all over it that glittered in the light and was  held up by two thin straps. Ginny had a feeling that Roarke's mother  always dressed for dinner, so the evening wear would not be out of  place. She ran a brush through her hair, gathered up her belongings and  let herself back into the bedroom.

Roarke was already dressed in a dinner suit, and Ginny was compelled to  acknowledge once again that she'd rarely seen a man who looked better  formally dressed. Probably because he was at home in formal clothes.  Mind you, she also had the idea that he would look equally good in  informal clothes. Because if Roarke Adams was nothing else, he was a man  who was comfortable with who and what he was. It was probably one of  the main reasons he was so attractive to women. Women always appeared to  go for men who were sure of themselves. Roarke had … the only phrase that  really said it all was that old one-savoir-faire.

He turned at the sound of her return, and a slow smile spread across his  face. 'Very nice. I've always said it, you know how to wear clothes,  sweetheart,' he complimented her, which, as it was virtually what she  had been thinking about him, made her feel a little strange inside.

Setting her case on the nearest chair, Ginny smoothed away invisible  creases from her skirt. 'You didn't say, but it seemed to me, if your  mother has a butler she must dine formally.'                       
       
           



       

'Right down to the napkins and finger bowls,' he confirmed ironically.  Then, seeing her sceptical expression, he amended the statement. 'OK, so  the finger bowls are a slight exaggeration, but you get the picture.'

Ginny shook her head at him in mild exasperation. 'You enjoy painting  your family as a bunch of wildly eccentric loonies, don't you?'

'Makes it less of a shock when you finally get to meet them,' he replied with a chuckle.

She rolled her eyes. 'I'm beginning to believe half of what you say isn't true, and the rest is just plain lies.'

His lips twitched and he quirked an eyebrow at her. 'So, you think you're getting to know me, do you?'

Ginny folded her arms, and tipped her chin challengingly. 'A little.  About your family. I said you were a fraud, and nothing has changed my  mind since.'

'Hmm,' Roarke mused just as a soft knock came on the door. They looked  at each other questioningly, both wondering if this was where the real  deception would begin. Bracing himself, Roarke went to the door and  opened it.

Immediately the room was pervaded by the scent of Opium. For a moment  all Ginny could see was Roarke's back, and then two arms slinked their  way around his neck, causing her eyes to widen in surprise.

'Roarke, darling, Watson told me you were here, and I just had to come  and say hello,' a sultry voice declared, and the hairs on the back of  Ginny's neck rose.

Ginny watched silently as Roarke attempted to back away, but,  tentacle-like, the arms closed around him, drawing him in. She saw  Roarke's hands fasten on those arms, trying to dislodge them, but the  woman they belonged to wasn't about to let go. Ginny didn't like that  one little bit, but didn't have time to analyse why.

Crossing to the door, she pulled it open wider to reveal Roarke and the  sexy blue-eyed blonde who had him in her feline grasp. There was no  doubt in Ginny's mind that this could only be Jenna Adams. In which  case, she had a job to do.

'Hello,' she said mildly, though someone who knew her better would have  been uneasy at the glitter in the back of her eyes. Reaching up, Ginny  took hold of one of the woman's wrists. 'Let me help you. You seem to  have got caught up on something that doesn't belong to you,' she said  with a smile that belied the strength with which she pulled the woman's  arm down. There was no harm in letting the other woman believe she was  fiercely territorial. It was, after all, what Roarke wanted.

Taken by surprise, Jenna Adams gasped and took a hasty step backwards,  releasing Roarke, who took the opportunity to put some distance between  them.