Enraptured (4 page)

His mouth tightened. “You know you don’t need to do what you’re
doing. Not anymore.”

She inhaled sharply. He didn’t need to say the words, didn’t
need to tell her he’d look after her. But why did he think being his mistress
would be so much better? She’d still be getting paid for sex, the only
difference being that it would be singular instead of plural.

And then what?

Nothing. She’d be right back to square one again the moment
he’d had enough of her.

No. She couldn’t rely on anyone but herself. She’d already
learned that the hard way.

As though knowing he’d pushed her far enough, Blaine changed
tactics and asked, “Would you care to dance?”

The dance floor was empty, but sensing Sharlene’s and Calvin’s
eyes still boring into her back, she knew she needed to fight fire with fire.
Screw them. Let them watch. She wasn’t going to make excuses. She loved sex,
loved her job. She wasn’t going to let another person’s judgments make her feel
inferior or ashamed in any way.

When were men like Calvin going to realize they paid their
unhappy wives a whole hell of a lot more than any call girl to satisfy their
needs?

She lifted her chin. Better to stay than run scared. “I’d
love to.”

His eyes glinted with satisfaction and something else,
something not quite definable when he smiled and she stepped into his arms. Her
belly fluttered. Sometimes she could swear she glimpsed more than lust in
Blaine’s stare, something deeper, especially of late. It was those times she
had to remind herself she was a call girl and that men rarely saw beyond that
label.

No matter that Blaine thought he wanted a longer-term
arrangement, she’d still be nothing more than a paid mistress. She wasn’t
girlfriend material. She’d gone into the business with her eyes wide open,
aware of what she was getting into.

She’d made her bed…

A slow melody started up, but Brandy scarcely noticed. She
was too attuned to Blaine and his strong feelings for her. His interest was the
last thing she needed, especially knowing this would be their last night
together. Yet somehow it didn’t stop the glow from spreading inside.

Just remember you’re nothing more to him than his whore
or his mistress. Revel in the time spent with him while you can.

She pushed away all reservation and instead concentrated on
following Blaine’s lead. He was a fabulous dancer. While she’d had enough
lessons to make her passable in any given situation, she knew with Blaine in
charge they moved fluidly across the floor, his big, adept hand on the bared
skin of her back, her skirts swishing.

And all the while dozens of admiring eyes followed them.

She looked up at Blaine’s determined stare. Is this what he
really wanted? Did he hope people would see them as a couple and associate them
as being together? She frowned. Surely it’d be the downfall of his celebrated
career if others got wind of who he was really with?

Evidently he didn’t care.

“You want to talk about it?” he asked, his head bent and his
voice brushing over her ear.

She ignored the instant raise of goose bumps. “What do you
mean?”

“That exchange between you and Calvin…not to mention his
wife.”

She shrugged, keeping her tone light, casual. “Calvin was a
client.”

The tightening of Blaine’s hands confirmed his possessiveness.
It also reconfirmed her decision to part ways with him before things got even
more serious.

As though perceiving her thoughts, he visibly relaxed, his
touch gentling. “Go on.”

She shrugged. “And Sharlene was someone I knew in high
school.”

“A friend?”

Her short burst of laughter held no trace of humor. “Hardly.
She was more an enemy who made my life miserable in every way.”

The song came to an end.

They stilled. Neither moved as another ballad swept over
them.

Blaine’s hands tightened fractionally as he stared down at
her. “She felt threatened by you.” Before she could disabuse him of that absurd
idea, he added, “Life has a funny way of evening scores.”

“I know.” She sighed. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but
I almost feel sorry for her being married to that…pig.”

“He’s that bad?”

She nodded, her mouth drying at his intense look. “Worse.”

His face tightened. “Then I’ll be certain he knows never to
go near you again.”

She pulled back and shook her head. “I can take care of
myself.”

“Is it really so bad to have someone want to look out for
you?”

Yearning once again pulled at her defenses. She gritted her
teeth, refusing to give in to his arrangement that would be unattainable
long-term. Besides, she’d fought hard for her independence and she wasn’t about
to hand those reins over to someone else.

About to put her thoughts into words, a well-coiffed matron
with sky-high heels and heavy earrings mounted the stage nearby and took hold
of the microphone. “First of all, I want to thank you one and all for coming
tonight and making this annual awareness fundraiser a resounding success.” As a
polite round of applause dimmed, she added with a beaming smile, “But I’m sure
you are all hungry. Please take your designated seats and let our guest
speakers entertain you.”

Blaine took her hand and guided her through the throng of
people to the intimate round table close to the stage.

“I’m the keynote speaker,” he informed her at seeing her
arched brow.

After he pulled out her chair then seated himself, she leaned
in close and said in an undertone, “Then perhaps I should have asked what this
charity fundraiser is all about?”

He nodded toward the stage. “You’re about to find out.”

A young woman with long, mouse-brown hair and an even more
timid demeanor stepped up onto stage. Although her voice shook, it was loud and
clear just how bad her youth had been as she recounted her days spent
terrorized by schoolyard bullies.

The first course arrived, some kind of consommé in a
delicate chalk-white bowl. Brandy didn’t touch it. All her attention was
centered on the young woman whose past sounded so similar to her own.

She was half-aware of Blaine’s considering stare on her, but
this once she was unmindful of his regard. The woman’s speech was poignant and
sad. Worse, it brought back memories like a reopened wound, fresh and painful.
And more than a little confronting.

When the woman on stage finished off by conceding as a teen
she’d attempted to take her own life, Brandy’s throat clogged, her vision
misting over. The woman might be timid, but she had the heart of a lion. Not
only had she faced her fears, she spoke about them in the hopes others would be
saved from the turmoil she’d gone through. The next speaker was announced when Blaine
tilted his head close to her, his voice feathering across her earlobe. “We’re
funding a national campaign aimed to put an end to bullying.”

She sucked in a steadying breath, but it didn’t stop the odd
sensation from taking over her body. It was as if tonight she’d been brought
full circle.

Blaine signaled for a waiter who immediately came over then
filled her empty wineglass. She took a mouthful, barely noticing its
extravagant flavor. Barely registering the monotonal voice of the man who’d
taken to the stage.

“I didn’t thank you,” Blaine said in an undertone.

She turned to him, his open warmth and adoration producing
an ache somewhere in the vicinity of her chest.

Her mind scrambled to make sense of it all even as
lightheadedness assailed her. This was all wrong! Blaine didn’t love her! Of course
he didn’t.

So why was she drowning in a sea of denial and he was the
lifesaver with an outstretched hand?

“Wh…what for?” she managed.

“For accepting my invitation here tonight. And taking a
chance on us.”

Her mouth dried. Had she found any words to eventually
voice, it was too late. The coiffed woman once again took the microphone and
announced Blaine’s name.

He pressed a reassuring kiss to her scalp before brushing a
lingering hand across her shoulder. Moments later he stood and took to the
stage.

She gulped in some air, focusing on Blaine to steady her nerves.
The non-fantasy part of her brain stepped in, logical and reasonable. Blaine
wanted her to be his mistress. That. Was. It. Only as her breathing returned to
some semblance of normality did she perceive her anxiety attack had slowly
seeped away, like it’d never been.

I’m happy on my own, I don’t need a man permanently in my
life to make things right.

Yet all her attention stayed on Blaine, everything within
her drawing strength from his commanding presence.

His gaze moved over the crowd when he introduced himself,
his voice strong, authoritative. Captivating.

“Some of you might know me as a friend.” He smiled,
acknowledging a few of those in the seated audience. “Some as a business
acquaintance. One thing I know for sure.” He paused, holding the audience in
the palm of his hand. “Without you people I’d never have become who I am
today.”

His stare locked with hers. She lifted her wineglass to her
lips with an unsteady hand, draining her glass.

“I was once a young boy on the wrong side of the tracks,
wanting desperately to prove my own worth. But for too long I allowed the influence
and intimidation from older boys—seniors—to pull me right back down.
Confronting my own self-doubt was the first major step…”

His voice warmed her, making her feel safe, secure. And more
than a little dazed knowing she wasn’t alone. Had never been alone in her pain.

She barely heard the rest of his speech—he’d already touched
her deeply—but knew it must have been rousing by the standing ovation he
received.

When he returned to his seat, she’d already shrugged off the
imaginary security blanket. She wouldn’t be caught up in the emotions of the
moment, wouldn’t surrender her whole past like it’d never been.

She wouldn’t make light of a history that had dictated her
future.

The coiffed woman took to the stage and thanked Blaine. As
the applause finally died down, she brought the night’s speeches to a close.

Brandy barely noticed. Not when Blaine took hold of her
nearest hand and pressed it to his chest…his heart.

Oh god.

She wanted only to bask in his warmth and generosity of
spirit, wanted only to surrender to him completely. She didn’t have the
strength to snatch her hand free. Instead she dropped her eyes from his, distanced
herself emotionally.

Tonight was all they had.

“Kate?” he whispered hoarsely.

His saying her real name felt right on too many levels.

Get a grip. He’s your client, nothing else.

Yet goose bumps erupted on her flesh even before she glanced
back at his handsome-as-sin profile. Her pulses fluttered with both denial and
need. She dragged back some semblance of rationality. He’d paid dearly for her
tonight. She wouldn’t let their finale be something easily forgotten.

She glanced at the main course a waiter presented to her.
The aroma of crispy-skin duck was amazing, if only her belly didn’t clench with
rejection. Food was the last thing on her mind right then.

She leaned close to Blaine. “I don’t know about you, but I’m
not really hungry.” Her free hand inched up his thigh about the same time his
breathing deepened. “At least not for food.”

His gaze glinted, stark and needy. “I’ll make the
appropriate excuses as soon as I can and we’ll head off.”

She smiled, her hand lingering on his thigh. “Please…you
eat. I need to use the ladies room.”

Seeing the line-up of twittering ladies in the nearest
restroom, she chose to walk to one she’d seen some way from the function.
Besides, the last thing she wanted right then was to brush aside the envious,
sideward looks from any number of Blaine’s admirers.

It would have only made it even more starkly apparent how
easily he would replace her after tonight.

Minutes later she was peering into the well-lit mirror,
relishing the lack of female company as she uncapped her lipstick and reapplied
a delicate smear of crimson to her lips.

She dropped her hand and took a step back, her green eyes
sharpening as she assessed herself critically. She’d worked hard to keep
herself toned and at twenty-six years of age she looked damn good. Skin lightly
tanned, her figure slender but lush in all the right places.

Little wonder Sharlene didn’t recognize her. No longer was
she the dowdy, self-conscious kid others noticed for all the wrong reasons. No
longer did her grades matter, which had dropped alarmingly from her many
absences from school.

No longer did she feel unwanted.

Abandoned.

Inadequate.

The band started up another song, though it was faint from
this distance. She dropped her lipstick back into her clutch bag. Time to
return to the party. Time to go home with Blaine and end the night on a sexual
high he wouldn’t soon forget.

Even once he is happily married with two point five kids?

She pressed a hand to her belly as nausea rose fast inside.

Whatever she shared with Blaine…it had to stop. She’d never
before wanted someone she couldn’t have, never before lusted for a client
beyond sex. She’d tucked away daydreams of a far different future a long time
ago.

Lost in thought, she didn’t at first notice the reflection
in the mirror behind her, didn’t hear the footfalls until it was too late.

“Waiting for me, whore?”

Her breath came out in a rush as her eyes met Calvin’s
glittering, lust-filled stare. Her chest tightened, her pulse racing.
Oh
shit.
What had she been thinking? In her line of work, safety came first at
all times. Instead she’d been so busy thinking of ways to not think about
Blaine, her welfare hadn’t even registered.

“No.” She tilted her chin, swallowing back the fear that
froze her insides when she added scornfully, “You know I’m already with another
client right now. And I don’t do more than one man at a time.”

“You’re messing with me, right?” He stepped forward, two
hundred and sixty pounds or more of bristling menace. “You fuck men for money,
since when do numbers come into the equation?”

Her breath hissed. The bastard knew that discretion and
caution were part and parcel of her service. “Blaine has paid for my exclusive
services. End of story.”

“Exclusive?” His sneering voice caused fear to skid up and
down her spine. “What would you know about the word? Or is Blaine brainwashing
you into thinking you’re too good now for someone like me?”

“Blaine is worth a hundred of you.” With her heart in her
throat, she tucked her bag under her arm and pushed past. “If you’ll excuse me—”

“You’re not excused, slut.” He clamped her forearm with a
meaty hand and hauled her against him. Her bag clattered to the floor and half
the contents tumbled out. “You’ll finish what we started last round—before you
bailed on me.”

Fear clawed at her innards when he ground the lump of his
arousal against her belly. Right then she wished desperately for the comings
and goings of the chattering ladies in the restroom closer to the party. This
far away she could scream and no one would hear her. At least not now the band
had started up again.

Calvin had her exactly where he wanted her.

And Blaine would probably assume she got waylaid or was
taking her sweet time.

Damn. Shit. Fuck.

She had no choice for the moment but to play along.

She closed her eyes with a breathy and all-too-fake sigh of
compliance. The egotistical bastard fell for it.

“That’s better.” His breath was hot and heavy on her face. “Play
nice and you won’t get hurt.”

Fisting her hair, he pulled sharply. Bobby pins ripped free
before tinkling across the tiled floor. Her hair tumbled down as tears sprang
to her eyes. He yanked harder still, keeping her head back so that she was
completely helpless in his grip.

“I mean to finish what we started,” he said hoarsely. His
free hand cupped one of her breasts and squeezed brutally. Her gasp ended in a
whimper when he transferred his attention to her other breast, his fingers
clamping onto her nipple and twisting. His loathsome smile reinforced the
excited glint in his eyes. “Whether you want to or not.”

She relaxed in his hold, forcing away all sensation of pain
that lashed through her body. “I’ll play nice if you do. Then I’ll fuck you how
I’ve always wanted to.”

His mean eyes glazed over, his grip loosening a fraction. “You’d
better mean that.”

Idiot.
The only head he was using right then was the
one between his legs.

“Oh I do,” she breathed.
Just wait and see.

His voice came out thick. “Get on with it then.” His fingers
still bunched in her hair, he pressed her downward. “A blowjob first.”

Yeah, she’d go down on him all right. But only so she could
slam a fist into his family jewels—she hadn’t been lying when she said she was
going to fuck him just the way she wanted to.

Fuck him over.

She looked up and licked her lips. “I can’t wait.”

And not in the way you think, asshole.

“Dirty whore,” he said hoarsely, splaying his thick thighs wide
apart while she used deft fingers to undo his straining fly.

Sick fuck.

He’d pay for this, and not with his wallet. His pants and
boxers dropped to his feet, his thick and stubby cock springing forth even as
she fisted one of her hands. She’d make him hurt so badly he wouldn’t want sex
for a month.

Her mouth curled. Sharlene would probably be singing her
praises, if she only knew.

Calvin looked down. “That’s it, whore,” he said thickly,
“take me in your mouth and suck hard.”

In your dreams.

“Calvin! Oh. My. God.”

Brandy dropped her fisted hand as Calvin stumbled back,
giving her a clear view of a flame-faced Sharlene…and a white-faced Blaine.

She swallowed. Always inscrutable, this once Blaine looked
barely controlled. But of course. He’d paid an obscene amount to be with her
tonight. Seeing her apparently servicing someone else was the worst kind of
business practice from someone of her profession.

Her eyes met Blaine’s. “It’s not what it looks like…”

She clamped her mouth shut. Even to her own ears her words
sounded lame. She glanced at Calvin, who was busy fumbling with his trousers.
For the first time as a call girl she felt ashamed. A whore on her knees with a
man’s trousers around his feet.

No one would believe she hadn’t wanted this as much as Sharlene’s
husband.

She pushed back a wave of crushing defeat. She’d never once allowed
herself to feel dirty in her chosen career, until now. Somehow she kept her
shudders all on the inside. Dear god, she’d never felt more soiled.

Sex was her trade of her choice, but not like this…never
like this.

Blaine had always treated her as a successful businesswoman
and a princess rolled into one. He’d at least give her a chance. “Blaine, you
believe me, don’t you?”

A muscle in his jaw jerked. His eyes glinted with raw betrayal.

Funny the ache inside her chest knowing his mistrust really
did mean the end of their business dealings. No second chances, no going back.
Though she’d had full intention of terminating their arrangement, deep down she’d
hoped it wasn’t the end. Not really.

The world’s stupidest call girl. Who’d have thought.

Sharlene’s eyes flashed. Evidently stunned into silence at
what she’d witnessed, she became vocal with her accusations as she faced her. “You
couldn’t bloody wait to pay me back, could you?” she spat. “After all those
years of me being better than you this was your perfect revenge.” A tear
trekked its way down her makeup-caked face. “Well I hope you’re satisfied.”

Brandy rocked back onto her knees. “Your husband followed me
in here.”

Calvin snorted. “You wanted my money, you greedy little
slut. You seduced me! Why else would you have used these restrooms?” He turned
to his wife. “You know this doesn’t mean anything to me, sweetheart.”

Brandy knew there was little point defending herself and she
cared less what they believed about her anyway. Blaine was the only one whose
faith and trust she wanted. Needed. Shame she couldn’t even have that.

She gathered up her clutch purse and its scattered
belongings as a numbness took hold within. Only when Blaine’s warm hand
enclosed one of hers did any sense of feeling return. She looked up at his
serious, set face as he hauled her effortlessly to her feet.

“I’m taking you home.” His hand remained curled around hers
when he turned to Calvin and said in a tone of voice that dared rebuke, “You
ever call my woman a slut or whore again, and I will destroy you.”

Her head whirled.
My woman?
He did believe her then?

Blaine’s arm around her waist secured her to his side when
they left a stuttering Calvin behind with his enraged wife. She looked up at
her savior as they headed toward the exit, but his face was unreadable, even
when he nodded to a couple of guests who’d straggled from the fundraiser the
same as themselves.

The band was breaking into Roy Orbison’s lively, upbeat
theme song from
Pretty Woman
when they walked out the exit doors. The
sheer coincidence might have been amusing under different circumstances.

Once in his Porsche and on the road, it soon became apparent
they weren’t heading to his townhouse. She turned to him. “Where are we going?”

His profile looked stark beneath the intermittent flashes of
streetlights. “Home. Like I said.”

Oh?
She knew he owned plenty of other houses in other
countries around the world, but hadn’t realized he owned another in this city.

When he pulled into the driveway of a huge, sprawling harbor-side
mansion she peered at him once again. But he kept silent, brooding, even when
he climbed out and then opened her passenger door to escort her inside.

Her heels tapped on the hardwood floors, echoing in the
cavernous room that appeared to be all stainless steel fixtures and huge
dark-tinted windows. Red sofas and an eight-seat table with red candlesticks as
its centerpiece were a bright splash against the stark white walls of an open
lounge and dining room.

It appeared his passionate streak was spreading further than
the bedroom.

“Impressive,” she voiced aloud, striving for a normalcy she
didn’t feel. She turned to him, but he was already behind her, dominant and oh
so tall. “And it’s yours?” she asked.

“Ours.”

“Ours?” she repeated weakly.

Surely he didn’t want her as his mistress now? At least, not
after what he thought he saw between her and Calvin. And surely he didn’t for
one moment imagine she wanted to become exclusive?

Yet despite inner denial, a yearning built and built,
overwhelming and all too needy.

“Yours and mine,” he said almost savagely, his words slicing
through the air as though they were ready to inflict her harm.

Her eyes narrowed. Whatever Blaine had kept from her on the
journey here, it was all too apparent now. He was a man wounded and bristling
with emotions longing to get out. An explosion just waiting to happen.

Her sigh was all on the inside, right along with the
heartache. He’d never believed her innocence then. What had she expected? When
it came down to it she was nothing more than his paid fuck. She’d do well to
remember it.

She died a little inside even before she pulled out a foil
from her clutch bag and placed it into his hand. She couldn’t face his
accusations. Not now, when things were still so raw. Maybe not ever. No, she
knew better ways for him to blow off some steam. When she pivoted from him, she
blinked back tears before tossing her bag onto the sofa and heading toward the
lounge room’s balcony doors.