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47722663 Jessica Steele His Pretend Mistress

47722663 Jessica Steele His Pretend Mistress

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Published by: nadia457 on Dec 23, 2012
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03/12/2013

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His Pretend Mistress
By
Jessica Steele
Page
1
 
CHAPTER ONE
SHE was panicking so wildly she could barely manage to turn the knob of thestout front door.Her employer-soon to be her ex-employer-coming into the hall after her gaveher extra strength. `Don't be so…' he slurred, but Mallon was not waiting tohear the rest of it. With shaking hands she yanked the door open and, heedlessof the torrential rain deluging down, she went haring down the drive.She did not stop running until her umpteenth glance behind confirmed that shewas not being followed.Some five minutes later Mallon had slowed to a fast walking pace when thesound of a motor engine alerted her to the fact that Roland Phillips might havedecided to pursue her by car. When no car went past, panic started to rise inher again.There was no one else about, nothing but acres and acres of unbuilt-oncountryside so far as she knew. As the car drew level she cast a jerky look toher left, but was only a modicum relieved to see that it was not RolandPhillips.Had she been hoping that the driver would be a female of the species,however, she was to be disappointed. The window of the car slid down, andshe found herself staring through the downpour into a pair of hostile grey eyes.`Get in!' he clipped.Like blazes she'd get in! She'd had it with good-looking men. `No, thank you,'she snappily refused the unwanted offer.The grey eyes studied her for about two seconds. `Suit yourself!' the mid-thirties man said curtly, and the window slid up and the car purred on its wayagain.Though not at any great speed, Mallon noticed as, shock from RolandPhillips's assault on her starting to recede a little, she also noticed that, with averitable monsoon raging, only an idiot would drive fast in these conditions.She trudged on with no idea of where she was making for, her only aim to putas much distance as possible between her and Roland Phillips at AlmoraLodge. So far as she could recall there was not another house around for miles.Her sandals had started to squelch, which didn't surprise her-the rain wasn'tstopping; the sky was just emptying about her head.That she was soaked to her skin was the least of her worries. She hardly caredabout being drenched. Though she did begin to hope that another car might
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come by. If its driver was female Mallon hoped she would stop and give her alift.More of her shock receded and, feeling cold, wet, and decidedly miserable,Mallon half wished she had accepted a lift with the grey-eyed stranger.A moment later and she was scoffing at any such nonsense. She'd had it withmen; lechers, the lot of them! She had known some prime examples in her ex-stepfather, her ex-stepbrother, her ex-boyfriend, without the most recentexample of that ilk, her ex-employer.The rain pelted down, and, since she couldn't possibly become any moresodden, Mallon stopped walking and tried to assess her situation. Shesupposed she must have put a distance of about a mile or so between her andAlmora Lodge. She had sprinted out of there dressed just as she was, in acotton dress-too het up then to consider that this was probably the wettestsummer on record-and without a thought in her head about nipping upstairs tocollect her handbag. Her only thought then had been to put some space between her and the drunken Roland-call me Roly-Phillips.Mallon resumed walking, her pace more of a dejected amble now as sheaccepted that, new to the area, she had no idea where she was going. Her onlyhope was that someone, foolhardy enough to motor out in such foul weather,would stop and offer her a lift.Surely no one with so much as a single spark of decency would leave a dogout in such conditions, much less drive on by without offering her a lift?Perhaps that was why the grey-eyed man had stopped? He hadn't sounded toothrilled at the notion of inviting her drenched person to mess up his leather upholstery. If, that was, his sharp-sounding `Get in!' had been what you couldcall an invitation.Well, he knew what he could… Her thoughts broke off as her ears picked upthe purring sound of a car engine. She halted-the rain had slackened off alittle-and she turned and watched as the car came into view.She eyed the vehicle warily as it drew level, and then stopped. The windowslid down-and at the same time the heavens opened again. Solemn, deeply blue eyes stared into cool grey eyes. He must have driven in a circle, sherealised.The man did not smile, nor did he invite her into his car, exactly. What he didsay, was, `Had enough?"Mallon supposed that, with her blonde hair plastered darkly to her head, her dress clinging past saturation to her body and legs, she must look notdissimilar to the proverbial drowned rat.
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