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“Should your sister call, I would most definitely let her know that I’m not her husband’s mistress…. ”

“You won’t have to,” Harris interrupted. But, oddly then, he paused for a moment before he added, “I’ve already convinced her of that. ”

“And she believed you? Just like that? How did you convince her?”

“Ah,” Harris murmured, and Mallon instinctively knew she was not going to like his answer, whatever it was. “As I mentioned, Faye was close to being hysterical. The only way I could think to calm her down was to tell her that you were not his girlfriend—but mine. ”

Jessica Steele lives in a friendly English village with her super husband, Peter. They are owned by a gorgeous Staffordshire bull terrier called Florence, who is boisterous and manic, but also adorable. It was Peter who first prompted Jessica to try writing and, after the first rejection, encouraged her to keep on trying. Luckily, with the exception of Uruguay, she has so far managed to research inside all the countries in which she has set her books, traveling to places as far apart as Siberia and Egypt. Her thanks go to Peter for his help and encouragement.

Sit back and relax with Jessica Steele’s latest novel. Set in the pretty English countryside, it overflows with laughter, tears and romantic magic as Mallon, a beautiful young woman down on her luck, meets Harris Quillan, the man of everyone’s dreams, and changes his life forever!

His Pretend Mistress

Jessica Steele

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

SHE was panicking so wildly she could barely manage to turn the knob of the stout front door.

Her employer—soon to be her ex-employer—coming into the hall after her gave her extra strength.

‘Don’t be so…’ he slurred, but Mallon was not waiting to hear the rest of it. With shaking hands she yanked the door open and, heedless of the torrential rain deluging down, she went haring down the drive.

She did not stop running until her umpteenth glance behind confirmed that she was not being followed.

Some five minutes later Mallon had slowed to a fast walking pace when the sound of a motor engine alerted her to the fact that Roland Phillips might have decided to pursue her by car. When no car went past, panic started to rise in her again.

There was no one else about, nothing but acres and acres of unbuilt-on countryside so far as she knew. As the car drew level she cast a jerky look to her left, but was only a modicum relieved to see that it was not Roland Phillips.

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, and she 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.