The Rich Man's Mistress. Cathy Williams

      Miranda shrugged, too tired to care whether he mentioned her father or not. What did it matter anyway? She wasn’t going to be here for ever. She could unburden herself on this passing stranger if she wanted, safe in the knowledge that nothing would come back to haunt her. Briefly, they were sharing the same space, but not for long.

      ‘What does…’ he imitated her shrug ‘…that mean?’

      ‘All fathers worry about their daughters,’ Miranda said uncomfortably. ‘Especially when there’s no one else to share the worry with.’

      ‘And what exactly do you give him to worry about?’

      ‘I don’t suppose he’s too impressed with my lifestyle,’ Miranda admitted. Just saying it aloud made her mouth taste sour. It was an admission she had never made to anyone in her life before. ‘He thinks that I should settle down…’

      ‘You mean get married?’

      ‘Oh, good heavens, no! I’m only twenty-five!’ She laughed at the idea. ‘Besides, I can’t think of any suitable candidates for the role. If I had ever considered settling down with any of the boys I went out with, my father would have had a heart attack on the spot!’

      ‘Perhaps you should have been looking for a man instead of a boy,’ Luke drawled.

      Miranda averted her eyes from the blatantly masculine figure sprawling in the chair. ‘By settle down I mean get a job.’

      ‘Why haven’t you? You’re talented enough…’

      ‘I’m what…?’

      ‘Talented.’ He gave her a slow, amused smile. ‘Like me complimenting you, do you?’

      Miranda went scarlet. ‘I don’t care either way,’ she informed him nonchalantly. That slow, measured smile made her feel as though she had been physically touched. It gave her goose bumps.

      ‘Good,’ he murmured, his eyes still fastened on hers, ‘because the last thing I want are any complications.’