The Tycoon's Trophy Mistress. Lee Wilkinson

to think brains and beauty were incompatible, she found it stimulating to be taken seriously and treated as an equal.

      By the time they reached New York and came in to land at busy JFK Airport she had almost forgotten her reason for being there.

      Almost.

      Once again, with a light but firm hand at her waist, Daniel Wolfe took charge of everything. In no time at all, it seemed, the formalities were completed and their luggage was being ferried to a waiting limousine by a smartly uniformed chauffeur.

      Instead of being dull and damp, as it had been in London, to Charlotte’s surprise there was a fresh cover of snow. Overhead the sky was a cloudless cornflower-blue, and the sun shone coldly bright.

      As they drove through Queens, which seemed to be mainly residential, she queried, ‘How far is it?’

      ‘About fifteen miles to mid-Manhattan. It’ll take about an hour, depending on the traffic.’

      Though aware that she should be using the time to advantage Charlotte could think of nothing else to say, and once again very conscious of the man by her side she looked resolutely through the car window.

      For his part, his first surging excitement now leashed by his better judgement, Daniel was content to simply have her by his side.

      Earlier, on the plane, the urge to hold her in his arms had been so great that he had thrown caution to the winds.

      He had felt her momentary withdrawal, her tenseness and, expecting the worst, had braced himself for an open rejection.

      When it hadn’t come he had been both pleased and puzzled. Either she had decided to forgive and forget or she was playing some deep game of her own.

      Whichever, it seemed that, in the short term at least, life was going to be far from dull.