Mistress Minded
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About this ebook
Katherine Garbera
Katherine Garbera is a USA TODAY bestselling author of more than 100 novels, which have been translated into over two dozen languages and sold millions of copies worldwide. She is the mother of two incredibly creative and snarky grown children. Katherine enjoys drinking champagne, reading, walking and traveling with her husband. She lives in Kent, UK, where she is working on her next novel. Visit her on the web at www.katherinegarbera.com.
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Mistress Minded - Katherine Garbera
Prologue
"Pasquale, you’ve done well," Didi said as I materialized in front of her desk.
Babe, call me Ray.
No one had lived who’d called me by my given name when I’d been on earth, but Didi was different.
I didn’t like the body-disappearing thing, but it beat the alternative, which was me going to hell. I’d been a capo with the mob until I was betrayed by one of my lieutenants and killed. My dying prayer for forgiveness had brought me here to Didi—one of God’s seraphim, some sort of high angel.
The deal I’d cut was to unite in love as many couples as enemies I’d murdered in hate. I was going to be doing this gig for a long time. Madon’, some days it wasn’t half-bad, but Didi had a way of getting on my nerves and under my skin.
And when she was giving me a compliment I certainly didn’t trust her. She’d sent me to earth in a woman’s body one time. Not a hot-looking chick, either, but some old broad.
There was a reason I was called Il Re on earth,
I said to her. Il re is Italian for the king.
Yeah, I had the ego and the attitude to carry that off. Didi was always reminding me there was only one king up here, but after successfully uniting three couples, I’d decided to call myself the king of hearts.
And that reason was…?
Don’t be smart, babe. You know it’s because I’m good at what I do.
What’d I tell you about calling me babe?
"Did I call you that? Madon’, I’m sorry, Didi. I know you don’t like it." I enjoyed giving her a hard time. She looked as if she’d been working in this office too long. Today she was wearing another one of her ugly suits. This one was the color of cooked salmon.
What’s up next?
I asked.
A large pile of colored file folders appeared on her desk next to the jar of Baci chocolates.
Pick one,
she said.
So far I’d pulled from the top and the middle of the pile. I reached for a blue folder about three-quarters of the way down and Didi took it from me. The remaining pile disappeared.
So where am I going this time?
I asked. What I really wanted to know was if I’d be a man. But asking her that made me feel like a babbeo.
She handed me the folder. The location was an island in the Caribbean. Life was looking up. And this couple, Adam Powell and Jayne Montrose, already worked together.
No problem.
Don’t start thinking about your tan yet, Pasquale. This one is different,
Didi said.
Hell, they all were. Didi had yet to give me one assignment that was easy. Matchmaking—Holy Mary!—was hard work.
How?
She smiled. My gut tightened. I didn’t trust her when she was acting all happy.
I’ll be accompanying you this time.
"Madon’, is this some sort of punishment?"
No, babe, it’s your reward.
She disappeared before I could respond. Freakin’ matchmaker to the lovelorn was one thing. Partnered up with a prissy, bossy angel? Oh, merda, this was going to be one hell of an assignment.
One
Adam Powell bit back a curse and tossed his cell phone onto the leather seat next to him. His plane was ready to leave, his guests would be here any moment and Isabella had chosen now to tell him that she wasn’t getting what she needed from their relationship.
Frankly, he couldn’t give her anything else. If diamonds, furs and a brand-new Jaguar weren’t good enough, she’d have to look elsewhere.
Normally, being without a mistress wasn’t any big deal. He was a grown man; he could live without sex. But the coming two weeks were important to his company. Adam had been trying to acquire La Perla Negra Resort for the last five years and had been getting no where.
The owner, Ray Angelini, refused to sell his resort to anyone. Out of the blue, Adam had received a call last week inviting him to come to the resort to discuss the possibility of a sale. He had jumped at the chance.
Angelini had asked Adam to bring his wife, which had led to an awkward conversation. Angelini wanted a happily married couple to run the resort, as he and his wife had been doing for the last twenty years.
Adam had always believed in doing anything to close a sale, but pretending to be married was going too far. He told Angelini he’d bring the woman he’d been living with. Angelini had warned him that unless he believed Adam was a man who understood love and relationships there’d be no sale.
I understand they’re both a crock,
he muttered.
He left his seat in the back of the jet, exiting the plane. He’d have to make up some excuse for Isabella, and see if Jayne Montrose, his executive assistant, could find another woman who’d meet him in the Caribbean.
Damn, it was hot. New Orleans in the summertime was no one’s ideal place to be. The humidity soaked into his skin. He threw his head back, breathing through his teeth. It reminded him of the days when he’d worked the swamp in his uncle’s old pirogue, taking tourists for jaunts to see gators and swamp lilies.
God, he’d come a long way from that boy. He intended to go even further, and no woman was going to throw him off track for long.
Ooo, someone looks pissed,
said Jayne, coming up behind him.
He’d hired Jayne because she was sassy and smart. She made life at the office flow smoothly, and in the downtime always made him laugh. Don’t give me any lip, Montrose. Isabella is not going with me and the Angelinis are due in less than fifteen minutes.
I’m sorry. I told you not to count on her,
Jayne said. She reached into the large bag she always carried and drew out a sheaf of papers. I need your signature on these before I leave for vacation.
You can’t leave on vacation until I find a woman to accompany me to the Caribbean.
Listen, boss, we’ve been over this before. I don’t procure women for you,
Jayne said. She narrowed her eyes and handed him a Mont Blanc pen to sign the documents she’d brought.
Jayne wasn’t a particularly tall woman, but she carried herself like an Amazon. Some of the hotel industries’ toughest figures backed down when Jayne negotiated with them. Hiring her had been a stroke of genius, and Adam secretly feared someday she’d get tired of working for him and move on.
I only asked you to get a phone number one time,
he said.
That had been a big mistake. Jayne had almost quit over the matter, and he’d had to do some fancy talking to convince her to stay. Jayne had a strong core of morality and integrity, and she’d do just about anything he asked her to as long as it didn’t compromise her own values.
Once was too many times as far as I’m concerned,
she retorted tartly.
Jayne was the best personal assistant he’d ever had. She’d been with him longer than any of her predecessors—almost eight months now.
He studied her as he signed the papers she put before him. Her short cap of brown hair was tucked behind her ears, framing her heart-shaped face. Her eyes were a cool blue, radiating both intelligence and humor most of the time. Her mouth, strictly speaking, was too large for her face. She should have had thin lips, but instead had a lush mouth that made men think of kissing her.
Since Adam had a zero-tolerance policy toward fraternization in the workplace, he tried to avoid looking at her mouth. But he wasn’t very successful.
Why are you staring at me?
Jayne asked.
I’m not staring at you,
he said, signing the last of the papers.
He’d have to cancel the trip and stay home. There were other resorts in the Caribbean. None as elegant as La Perla Negra, but he’d find another property to buy.
Listen, Jayne, I’m going to have to cancel your vacation. Without Isabella, Angelini won’t talk to me.
Jayne’s eyes narrowed again. I haven’t had more than a day off since I started working for you.
You can have time off in a week. I need you here to help me handle this. I’ll make it worth your while.
How?
Name your price,
Adam said. Early on in life he’d realized everyone had a price. Especially for things they didn’t want to do.
She rolled her eyes. Let’s handle it now. Get out your little black book and call another one of your lady friends.
I don’t have a black book. That’s a cliché and women don’t like it.
You used to have one, right?
No,
he said. He’d never had a black book. He’d never had any problem remembering phone numbers. Strictly speaking, Jayne was right. He could probably make a few calls and find another woman, but he didn’t want to. He was tired of the whole thing. And he’d been hoping that Isabella would prove to be different. That perhaps she’d fill that hole that had always been empty inside him.
None of them would be the right fit for this trip to the Caribbean, anyway. Angelini had to be handled carefully, and Adam didn’t want to risk anything else going wrong. He needed someone who understood what was at stake. The perfect solution would be for Jayne to go with him.
Jayne?
Yes?
She shoved the papers he’d just returned to her into her bag. Her hair fell forward over one eye and she shifted the tote impatiently to her left hand, tucking her hair behind her ear again.
Want to come with me and be my mistress?
A flush spread up her neck. Her mouth opened the slightest bit and for the first time he noticed how creamy her skin was.
She shook her head. No.
Why not?
Aside from the phone number incident this was the first time Jayne had said no to him.
I can’t be your mistress—what about Powell International’s policy toward fraternization?
You wouldn’t really be my mistress. We’d act like we were involved. We’re not really fraternizing. It would be business.
That won’t work. I don’t like to pretend to be something I’m not. I have to take these papers back to the office now, and I booked a nonrefundable airline ticket to Little Rock.
I’ll reimburse your airfare and book you a first-class ticket for the week we return,
Adam said.
I don’t know…
She bit her lip and dug in her purse, pulling out a pair of sunglasses and putting them on. No, Adam, I’m sorry, but I can’t postpone my trip to Arkansas.
Jayne, you’re my last hope,
Adam pleaded. I’ve waited five years to talk to Angelini.
Two hours later, Jayne didn’t want to analyze the reasons why she was sitting next to Adam on his jet, bound for the Caribbean. He had said they’d work out the details when they arrived at the resort, which she didn’t like. She was a planner. She liked every detail set in stone before she took any action. That way there were no surprises and she could better manage her own experiences.
She’d been determined to say no to Adam’s request, but in the end she’d been unable to. So here she was, eating caviar, which she hated, and drinking Moët with the Angelinis. She’d been on Adam’s corporate jet twice before, both times to make sure that his every comfort was seen to. In fact, she’d been there this afternoon, arranging for Isabella’s luggage to be stowed in the bedroom at the back.
The Angelinis were a very odd couple. Didi was slim and wore a slightly