Finishing Touches Read Free Page A

way,
now that she’s set up this interior design carry-on?’ Martin was an electrical contractor.
    ‘Trust you to think of something like that,’ he retorted. ‘Is Barbara going?’ he asked, wishing that Jean would get back to her magazine, so he could have a snooze.
He’d had a hard day at work. Then he’d had to put the kids to bed because Jean had her period and was feeling rotten.
Now
he had to listen to this earbashing. He should have
stayed single!
    Jean snorted. ‘Indeed she’s not going. I spoke to her on the phone today and she wouldn’t dream of it. You should know better than to ask.’
    ‘I was just wondering. You know Barbara . . . she’d go to the opening of an envelope,’ he grinned, amused at his little joke. Jean gave him a withering look.
    ‘If you want to go to this thing tomorrow night, go! Just don’t expect
me
to come with you, Martin Jordan,’ Jean said furiously, gathering up her
Hello!
and
marching into the lounge, leaving Martin sorry he’d ever mentioned it in the first place. Maybe he
would
go, and he’d bloody well say to his wife that he never criticized her
family the way she criticized his. He had rewired her mother’s home for nothing, and never a word about it, and her bloody brothers were as bad, expecting him to drop everything every time
they needed a new socket put in. Only last week he had spent an entire night putting up wall-lights for one of them. Four hours’ hard work because he’d had to chase walls. And what did
he get for it? Two bloody pints, that’s what. The louser. But dare he say anything to Jean? She’d go into a huff for a week. He was getting a bit sick of it. Well, he was seriously
thinking of going to his sister’s party, and if Jean didn’t like it, she could lump it.
    Irene Jordan was one totally pissed-off lady. Prowling around her Washington condo she lit yet another Marlboro, dragging the smoke deeply into her lungs. How could Dean do
this to her? After all this time! Men! They were shits! She had been sure he would marry her.
    Her lower lip trembled, tears glittering in her big blue eyes. What would she do if Dean decided he wanted a younger mistress, or even worse, now that he was finally free, a younger wife? It
just didn’t bear thinking about. After all, Irene was nearly thirty and out there in the vastness of the USA, there were plenty of gorgeous nubiles eager to take her place. She was treading
on very thin ice making her demands. But dammit, Dean just couldn’t walk all over her. Not after she had spent the past four years bending over backwards to please
him
. Being the
perfect mistress, the perfect companion! Senator Dean Madigan was having his cake and eating it.
    It wasn’t easy being a mistress. True, she had this lovely condo, and a new car, and he gave her a generous allowance so that she could visit beauty salons and gyms to keep herself looking
the very best. True, he took her to places she had only ever dreamt about: cruising in the Caribbean, skiing in Aspen, surfing in Malibu. Life with the Senator had opened up a whole new world to
her. But – and it was a big but – there was no security in being a mistress. And what Irene Jordan craved more than anything else in the world was security. The thought of being alone
and fending for herself had always filled her with dread.
    What Irene really wanted to do was to marry a nice rich man who would look after her and protect her from the big bad world. Her brief experience of working for a living in a nine-to-five job in
Dublin County Council was the most horrific time of her life.
    It had been her mother’s idea that she visit her wealthy cousin Dorothy in Washington. But Irene had to admit that things were not looking good right now. She sighed deeply. What she
wouldn’t give to be a child again and to have Nora taking care of all her fears and worries. Her mother had been her great protector. Irene knew that compared to the rest of her family she