Falling For His Proper Mistress Read Free Page B

couldn’t work out was why he didn’t want her speaking at the Food and Wine Gala. Well, she was no doubt about to learn.
    Avery forced herself to smile faintly—and very politely—at him before helping herself to a glass from a passing waiter to give her hands something to do. She took a delicate sip of the pale liquid and pretended to savor the crisp dryness on her tongue.
    Guy’s gaze dipped to her mouth. The eyes that met hers a moment later had gone dark. In the past he’d sometimes poured a glass of champagne for them to share after—
    No! She wasn’t thinking of the countless abandoned glasses of untouched champagne or the passionate encounters that had followed.
    Her lashes fell, and Avery fixed her attention on the squareblack snaps of his dress shirt. She recognized those snaps…one evening she’d yanked them all loose—
    Oh, heavens!
    She jerked her head back and focused on his jaw instead. It was a hard jaw, a determined j—
    â€œYou’re not listening.”
    â€œOf course I’m listening.” Please don’t let him ask her to repeat whatever he’d just said.
    â€œYou’re not even interested.”
    â€œNot in you,” she muttered rebelliously.
    Only a few inches separated his mouth from the area of jaw line she’d been examining, and she watched his beautiful lips flatten into a hard line. To her exasperation, her heartbeat kicked up. This close he smelled so familiar. Of sandalwood soap, a green hint of moss…and man. But this recklessly rash awareness of the man didn’t alter the fact that he was a first-class bastard.
    One she would be wise to avoid at all costs.
    â€œHow typical of a woman not to be able to separate her emotions from her work.”
    What? “That’s not true—” Avery broke off. Or maybe it was. She’d made it personal by disavowing any interest in him. “Okay, I shouldn’t have made that crack.” Especially when her reaction suggested it was patently, horrifyingly untrue.
    She was pathetic.
    Hadn’t she learned what kind of scum Guy Jarrod was, despite the fancy French restaurant he owned in New York and his high-society family?
    God help her….
    He rocked back on his heels and the extra inches of space allowed her respite to breathe again without drowning in his scent. For an awful moment she thought he was going to pursue exactly how much of a lie her denial had been.
    To her relief, he let it slide.
    â€œNo, you shouldn’t have. And I’ll accept that as an apology.”
    She wouldn’t have gone so far as to call it an apology. Annoyance made her bristle like a cat stroked the wrong way. “That’s big of you.”
    He expelled an impatient sigh. “You know, this isn’t going to work. Go back to California—I’ll find someone else to stand in for Art.”
    Avery stared at him, aghast. This was what she’d wanted…but now that he was telling her to go, she knew there was no way she could ever tell Art she’d let him down. “I promised Art—”
    Guy was shaking his head. “Art and I were scheduled to do two talks together,” he said, “and it’s clear that you’re not going to be able to cooperate.”
    Oh, dear God, what had Art gotten her into? He’d muttered something about a panel on wine selection and a presentation about the importance of superior service in a world-class establishment but that had been all. There’d been no mention of a joint presentation with anyone, let alone Guy Jarrod.
    She should never have come….
    Uncle Art’s pleading voice played through her head. She hadn’t had a choice. To think she’d considered speaking at such a prestigious event, the opportunity of a lifetime. But this wasn’t about her…it was about what she owed Uncle Art and Aunt Tilly.
    She’d never lived up to Aunt Tilly’s hopes. But Uncle Art