Enraptured (3 page)

Silence breached the conversation for a moment as Brandy
sifted through her thoughts and temptation suckered her in. Tonight could be
her final hurrah, the grand finale before she said goodbye to him one last
time.

She took a deep breath. “Okay.”

“He’ll be expecting you. Six p.m. sharp,” Maisey said, voice
brisk and businesslike again. “I’ll send you the car. Oh and one more thing. He
said to dress elegantly.”

As the connection abruptly cut, Kate clutched the cell as if
it was a lifeline. It wasn’t. An odd sense of knowing came over her. Blaine had
orchestrated the whole thing, had paid Mackenzie off to have her all to
himself.

A surge of irrational pleasure was thrust aside to make way
for an unhealthy dose of resentment.

Fuck.

Her whole career could be at stake, thanks to Blaine’s
obsessive nature.

It appeared he’d really meant it when he’d told her she’d
pay.

She tossed her cell phone back into her bag before she
lifted her chin and walked the ten minutes to her chic, inner-city apartment.
If Blaine wanted her that badly tonight, then so be it.

But this would definitely be their last time together.

It felt strange stepping out of the car to a blaze of outer
lights, as though Blaine wanted to proclaim to the world of her arrival.

So much for discretion.

Nerves knotted in her belly at the coming confrontation.

At the night ahead.

At its ending…

Her hand tightened on her fire-red clutch purse, the same
color as her filmy halter-neck dress that flared out from her waist. She
shivered. She couldn’t help but recognize that tonight would be memorable…life
changing. And not in a good way.

Her heels clacked on the granite path as she approached the
same red door as the night before. Except this time her smile was forced and
her belly churned with trepidation, not excitement. Aside from physical
release, tonight there was little to look forward to.

Amazing the difference twenty-four hours could make.

Blaine swung open the door before she’d reached it. She
swallowed, her heart fluttering. He looked divine, his fitted tux showcasing
his height, his lean but muscled breadth.

“Hi,” she said huskily, self-conscious somehow at his
lingering appraisal.

“Stunning,” he murmured in return.

For one dizzying moment she wondered if perhaps he’d looked
beyond her outer layer to the beauty within. But then he claimed her mouth with
his own in a slow, leisurely exploration of lips and tongue and the idea melted
away.

No. Successful men like Blaine didn’t care so much for inner
beauty, did they? Her own father had been proof of that.

She stiffened and pulled away first.
Damn it.
Some
memories should never be taken out of the closet. And she had to stop judging
every man by her father’s behavior. Blaine was nothing like him. She took a
step back, her top teeth worrying into her bottom lip. “Someone might see us.”

Blaine’s eyes blazed, passionate and possessive. “Let them.”

When he pulled her back the next time, his mouth as it
claimed hers once again alternated between soft and coaxing, then hard and
demanding. She sighed into his mouth, drowning in a sea of sensation. Thoughts
no longer entered her consciousness. Nothing penetrated the world he took her
to except just how badly she wanted him.

All of him.

Minutes later they broke apart, his face as he looked down
at her stamped with a fierce intensity that bordered on alarming. He appeared
every inch the big bad wolf who wanted to eat her. Then he smiled and stepped
away. She sucked in an unsteady breath, her heartbeat stabilizing and her
renewed anxiety lifting.

His hard-edged exterior too often hid the adoring, romantic
man she’d seen more and more often of late. Yet despite her professional side
screaming that things were becoming way too personal and way too intense, she’d
been glad of the change and had basked in his attention.

Had.
Past tense.

“We have a few minutes,” he said smoothly. “Would you care
for a drink?”

She nodded, forcing a smile. “I’d love one.”

Two snifters of brandy were already poured and waiting on
the bar in his entertainment room. He handed one to her and she cupped it in
the palm of her hand, swirling the liquid around and around and watching the
firelight refracted in its depths.

Blaine raised his drink in a toast, a slightly crooked smile
curling his lips. “To us.”

She raised hers too, a little more awkwardly and feeling
ill-at-ease, knowing this would be their last night together with no more “us”
in the equation. Despite herself, the thought left her sick at heart.

Blaine’s eyes captured hers as he added, “May there be many
more nights the same as this one.”

That’s one wish that won’t be coming true.

She tossed back her drink, needing its fortification. The
brandy burned all the way down her throat, creating a pleasant warmth in her
belly and a surge of affirmation in her breast. She returned her empty glass
onto the bar. “So it’s party before pleasure tonight?”

Placing his glass beside hers, he clasped her hips and
tugged her close. “Pleasure first,” he corrected softly, holding her stare.

Her breath came out in a surprised hiss when he spun her
around to face the mirror, her spine pressed flush against his chest, his flat
belly and the thick wedge of his arousal.

Her face was already flushed with passion, the tight upsweep
of her strawberry-blonde hair appearing about ready to tumble past her
shoulders in utter abandonment and disarray. Not unlike her emotions.

“But you’ll be the only one coming,” he added in an
undertone.

She swallowed. Hard.

Blaine never ceased to excite her, never ceased to make her
want him even more than before. But she couldn’t afford what this would do to
her…to them. Her eyes connected to his in the mirror. Saying goodbye was going
to be the hardest thing she’d ever done.

His stare narrowed, sharp, possessive. “Are you wearing any
underwear?”

She nodded, as helpless as a mouse in the presence of a
cobra. “A thong and garters,” she managed, voice whisper-soft.

“Good.” His hands moved downward from her hips, lifting the
skirt of her dress that was three gauzy sections, shaped like the petals of a
rose.

His touch was all heat between her thighs. When he pushed
aside the scrap of lace that was her thong to expose her cunt, she all but
collapsed against him, her bones turning to liquid.

“You’ll climax for me,” he said hoarsely, “then every time
you walk, every time you sit or stand tonight, you’ll be aware of the wetness
down there.”

His breath touched her ear at about the same time his
fingers parted her flesh. “Every time someone comes near and smells your aroma,
they will know you are mine.”

Oh. Fuck.

If words were an aphrodisiac, then he was the master. She
was close to convulsing with pleasure even before one of his fingers massaged
the aching gem of her clit. Over and over again. Until she was writhing and
grinding against him, her head resting against his chest and his dark,
glittering eyes holding hers, watching as her breath abruptly caught, her body
jerking with release, then trembling with the aftereffects.

“I must be all kinds of a fool for not filling your cunt and
fucking you senseless, my seed spilling into your wet pussy,” he said
throatily.

She was incapable right then of answering back and recovering
any semblance of the upper hand. She didn’t even have the energy to mention
that any more sex between them would be with a condom sheathing his cock.
Instead she said weakly, “Your romantic words get me every time.”

“Perhaps I’m saving the romance for later, hmm?”

She pulled free from his embrace, the intensity of his stare
causing her to feel uneasy. She looked away and adjusted her thong, her dress,
before she gathered up her clutch purse and took his proffered hand.

* * * * *

Of course the party was at the Sydney Opera House, with
beautiful views of the harbor and its myriad twinkling lights along the
shoreline.

She sneaked a glance behind them. “No bodyguards tonight?”

“No. Believe it or not we’re safer amongst a crowd.”

A handful of musicians had set up beside a raised stage and
a makeshift dance floor. They played cover songs, and right then a popular
ballad leant the stifling rich atmosphere a little more cheer.

The women in their sequined gowns and flashing jewels made
Brandy feel underdressed. But as if reading her thoughts, Blaine said in an
undertone, “Your simple, stunning elegance has already drawn the eye of every
man in the room.”

She shivered a little, recognizing he meant every word. Yes,
they were attracting a lot of attention, but it was from the women as much as
the men, their envious glances sliding between her and the delicious man by her
side.

Even without all his wealth and good looks, there was
something magnetic about Blaine that drew the eye. He carried himself with an inborn
assurance and self-belief she secretly envied and admired in equal measure.

Blaine took two drinks from a passing waiter before handing
one to her. She murmured thanks, the bubbly effervescence that slid down her
throat lending her a little more courage.

She could handle herself in any social situation, but formal
affairs such as these left her feeling inadequate, as though she didn’t belong.
She could only hope she appeared every inch poised and confident on the
outside.

Blaine introduced her to one group of people after the other
until she lost track of the number of important and influential guests he was
on first-name basis with. Then he drew her toward the next group.

Oh. Shit.

“Brandy, I’d like you to meet Calvin and his wife Sharlene.”

Her eyes fixed on Calvin, she kept all her shock on the
inside as she allowed him—a former client—to take her hand and press fleshy
lips to her knuckles.

“What a pleasure,” he said with a drawling smirk, his
nostrils flaring as though he really was aware of the musky scent between her
thighs.

Except she had a bad feeling the scent only emphasized his adverse
opinion of her. The one and same man she’d rejected when his fetish for rough,
violent sex had become apparent. He’d also been the man who’d fast-tracked her into
becoming more selective with her clients.

“Kate? Oh my god…is that really you?”

Even before she tugged her hand free to turn toward Calvin’s
wife, she knew who she’d face. Brandy would remember that voice anywhere.
Class-A bitch and spoiled rich kid, Sharlene’s prettiness had just happened to
be all on the outside. Her inner ugliness hadn’t stopped her from being the
most popular girl in high school.

The same woman who’d made her life a living hell.

“It really is you!” Sharlene looked her up and down with
frank and disbelieving envy. “You look amazing.”

The other woman could say that now. And little wonder. Age
hadn’t done Sharlene any favors—or maybe her husband was as nasty out of bed as
he was in it, infecting those around him with his own personal brand of
ugliness?

Sharlene’s face twitched into what should have been a frown,
if only her obviously wrinkle-free, botoxed features allowed such movement. “Why
the name change?”

Calvin guffawed, his heavy jaw made more noticeable with his
obnoxious laugh. He lifted a shoulder that was still as broad and heavy as his
linebacker days when he’d lived in the states. His career was one thing he’d
managed to boast about in their short time together. “Sweetheart, use your
imagination. In her line of
work
she needs to be anonymous for her own
safety.”

Brandy felt the blood drain right out of her face even as
Blaine stiffened beside her.

It was a travesty that the one man she had feared the most
referred to her line of work as being dangerous.

Sharlene’s eyes rounded with evident realization before she
clapped a hand to her mouth. “No. Way! Kate. Ah,
Brandy
, is that true?”
She leaned forward, clearly titillated when she hissed, “You’re a whore?”

And just like that something within Brandy shut down. One
well-aimed hit to the solar plexus and she was the shy plain Jane with no
friends and all too many insecurities.

Blaine put his arm around her rigid shoulders and drew her
close, shielding her from harm. She wilted against him. This once she could
only be thankful for the security he offered.

Later…much later, she’d be strong again.

Blaine’s gaze held Sharlene’s as he challenged softly,
“Define whore?”

The other woman shrank a little at the clear undertone of
warning in his voice, his quelling and distasteful stare. Brandy released an
unsteady breath. How easily he’d switched all the ugliness back onto Calvin’s
wife.

Blaine swung away from Sharlene, who was grappling for a
suitable reply. His attention was all on the man who’d forgotten the meaning of
discretion in order to settle a score. “Tell me, Calvin, how is it you know so
much about Brandy?”

Sharlene turned to her husband with sudden uncertainty in
her eyes. “What is going on, Calvin? How
do
you know her?”

Brandy leaned farther into Blaine’s strong body, feeding off
his strength just a little longer before deciding enough was enough. The time
for being strong was here and now, not later. She stepped out of his arms. “Actually
we have met.” When Sharlene threw her a glaring look of disbelief, she added,
“Except I didn’t much care for his penchant for violence.”

If Calvin roughed up his spouse in the same way he did his
escorts, Sharlene would get her drift. And going by the other woman’s stifled
gasp, it was clear she did.

Sympathy for Sharlene and the life she must share with this
man softened any ill will toward her. Brandy could only hope the nasty displeasure
stamped into every hard crevice on Calvin’s face wouldn’t see his wife harmed.
But his focus wasn’t on his wife. It was all on her.

A pulse beat into life at his temple, his hands curling into
fists. “Listen to me, you little—”

“I believe we have a meeting early next week,” Blaine said
in an undertone that somehow oozed authority right along with the threat of
reprisal.

Calvin pulled himself together, at least outwardly. He all
but bowed to the alpha when he nodded stiffly and said, “I’ll be there.”

Blaine looked anything but appeased. “See that you are.”
When he took her arm once again and escorted her away from the pair of
piranhas, he murmured, “Are you okay?”

She looked up at his taut face. “I’m fine. I’ve dealt with
worse.”

Calvin had seen to that.

Blaine’s eyes narrowed, dangerously assessing. “Your job?”

She shivered, aware that Blaine was far more lethal than
anything Calvin could muster. But she didn’t answer, didn’t feel the need to
explain herself or her chosen career. Except her silence seemed answer enough.