Enraptured (5 page)

Far-off music from a late-night party trickled inside as she
stepped out onto the terrace and slowly peeled off her dress, her movements on
autopilot.

The cool touch of night air caressed her breasts, which were
still aching and sore from Calvin’s unwanted attentions. She pressed a hand to
her mouth and beat down the revolting memory, right along with the knowledge of
Blaine’s low opinion of her.

She’d dwell on all the hurt later. Right now Blaine was a
client, first and foremost.

Right now she needed to forget.

She sensed Blaine behind her seconds before he spoke. “We
don’t have to do this,” he said. “Not now.”

She didn’t turn around. “But I do,” she whispered. “I really
do.”

She only hoped Blaine would understand. She’d lived a good
part of her life needing sex to make things right in her world. She had no
doubt the moment he took her in his arms that Calvin’s name would be diluted
right along with Blaine’s distrust…and all the rest of the bad stuff in her
life.

His big hands were suddenly on her shoulders, moving up and
down her arms before his mouth gently nuzzled her throat. She relaxed against
him, his deft touch creating a magic within she could never quite define.

No one triggered all the right buttons as he did, no one
else affected her in every way that counted.

She released a pent-up sigh. It wasn’t sex she needed. It
was Blaine.

One of his hands touched her evidently bruised upper arm.
She flinched and his hands stilled, his voice low. “Much as I do want you right
now, maybe it’s not such a good idea.”

She closed her eyes, willing back composure.
Jesus.
She was a call girl, men paid to have sex with her. She wasn’t going to let the
bruise of one bad incident ruin her reputation—ruin it for her clients and for
herself. And she most certainly wasn’t going to let Blaine think she didn’t
want him.

She needed to lose herself with him. Needed her arms around
his neck and her legs around his hips.

His hands dropped. “At least not this soon after—”

“Right now is perfect,” she interrupted with a quick,
throaty laugh. She arched against him. “I love sex, you know that.”

Blaine’s arousal kicked against her even as a profanity
seemed wrenched from the depths of his soul. His hands lifted and her breath
hitched as he cupped her breasts. She barely repressed a moan as pain arced
through the inflamed nerve endings.

He stilled once again, though his voice was thick with lust.
“Are you sure you’re into this tonight?”

She took his hands in hers and dragged them downward, away
from her tender breasts and toward the moist entrance of her cunt. “You even
need to ask?”

His long exhalation was hot on her throat. “Then don’t move.”

His jacket rustled, then his shirt. His belt slid free
before the unmistakable sound of a zipper came undone. She shivered, reminded again
all too glaringly of the fate she’d only just escaped at Calvin’s hands.

She heard the tearing of the foil she’d given him. It took
only seconds for him to roll on the condom before he was close behind her
again, his big body shielding hers from seemingly all that was bad in the
world, his cock prodding into the small of her back.

“In all my life I’ve never wanted any woman half as much as
you,” he said hoarsely.

Something within her chest shifted even as any lingering
reservations melted clean away. Blaine would never hurt her. Not deliberately.
He’d worship her if she let him. When his mouth closed over one side of her
throat again and he gently suckled, she completely surrendered to him, to the
moment.

Blaine would make her forget the bad memories by creating
some new.

He used gentle hands to slip inside the front of her
miniscule thong and massage her clit, deft strokes that slowly escalated in
pressure until she moaned, on the verge of convulsing with orgasm.

She could have sobbed when he removed his hand.

“Not yet, baby.” Taking hold of her thong, he jerked the
satin and lace apart. As it fell to the floor, he growled approvingly, “Much
better. Now bend over for me and hold onto the railing.”

Throat dry and pulse racing, she did as he requested, the
rail cool under her suddenly damp palms.

“So beautiful,” he muttered thickly from behind as he guided
his cock into the waiting folds of her cunt. She caught her breath at the
exquisite pressure that bordered between pleasure and pain, aware the remnants
of anxiety that had tossed her emotions around had caused her muscles to clench
a little tighter around him.

He pushed his cock to the hilt with a groan. She stifled a
whimper that was stark desire. She needed this, needed him, so much. She jerked
her hips forward, partly unsheathing his cock. She thrust back, his cock
refilling her pussy and his growl filling the air. His hands settled on her
hips before he began stroking in and out with alternating long and short
slides.

She counterthrusted against him even as she bit back a sob.
Deep down she sensed she’d lost a little piece of herself the moment Calvin had
caused this man to doubt her integrity. But knowing this was their last night
together…god, she wanted Blaine with an even greater need than before, an
elemental yearning she couldn’t fight.

“Don’t hold back on me, baby,” Blaine said hoarsely, “I don’t
want to climax without you.”

Her heart lurched. Tears welled. He wanted to share the
magic between them—because that was what it was, magic. And somehow that
knowledge alone drove away the shadows, the old insecurities. She met him
stroke for stroke, craving the release that was already blurring everything
into insignificance.

With their flesh slapping and pounding, their groans and
grunts intermingling, she was abruptly pitched headlong into a climax that took
away all breath. All doubt. She soared and peaked, then slowly drifted back to
earth.

Blaine climaxed right after, her name falling from his lips,
his breath shuddering right along with his body. He sagged against her and
pulled her closer still, keeping her that way long after their pulses had
slowed and their breaths had softened.

Music continued to waft over them when he finally
disconnected from her and disposed of the condom. When he returned and tangled
his fingers through hers, she couldn’t help but experience a sense of
rightness.

A sense of belonging.

She quashed the sentiment. But as he led her back through
the lounge and dining room before taking a huge staircase to the next floor,
her legs were unforgivably shaky.

In what had to be the master bedroom, he pushed her gently
onto a king-size bed and followed her down, his cock hardening against her
belly and his mouth covering hers as he kissed her with nothing short of a
skill that left her hungry for more.

This was what she loved. This was who she was.

Never again would she allow someone to take that away from
her.

His tongue pushed between the seam of her lips, tasting
within. One of his hands slid between her thighs, one finger, then two, delving
deep into her cunt, exploring the wet inner tissue.

Oh god.

Passion stirred and quickly built. Blaine was an amazing and
accomplished lover. She knew from past experience that he could easily go two
or three rounds in one night.

She’d never once complained about his prowess—until his chest
mashed against her breasts. At her sudden sharp inhalation he reared back. Even
in the shadowed room she could make out the flash of concern in his eyes.

“Kate?”

I can never be Kate to you.

She swallowed back a sob and pressed splayed hands onto his
chest, pushing him onto his back and climbing aboard. Distracting him before he
asked any more questions. She could only thank god this once Blaine hadn’t
flicked on the lights. All he’d see was her dim outline, certainly not her
bruised flesh.

Kneeling high, she clamped hold of the base of his cock and
lowered herself onto his hard length, inch by glorious inch. It wasn’t until
she began to rock slowly up and down that she acknowledged her oversight.

She released an unsteady breath. “We didn’t use a condom.”

Blaine moaned, “I know.”

She stilled on the upstroke. “You don’t care?”

“I’m clean. And I know you are.”

Holy shit.
He’d checked her records too? Her thoughts
were so bewildered and then, frankly, angry she scarcely heard his next words.

“If you accept my offer, there’s no need for condoms.”

His hands lifted, fingertips gliding ever so gently but
skillfully around her breasts. After Calvin’s brutal touch, Blaine’s tenderness
there was almost her undoing.

“Don’t,” she said instead, voice a sandpaper rasp when
desire and anguish for what might have been hit in equal measure.

His hands dropped. He clasped her hips, dragging her down on
his shaft before urging her back up again, creating an almost choreographed
rhythm. “Don’t think I don’t care about what almost happened between you and
Calvin, because I do—I really do.”

She froze, though every atom in her body screamed that she
grind her pussy, her clit, against his cock.

“Something inside me snapped when I saw you with him,” he
said starkly. “Everything I’d planned…”

“Planned?” she croaked.

His hands balled into fists. “Never mind,” he uttered
raggedly. “Just know that if I can’t have you any other way, I’m willing to pay
however much I need to make you stay.”

His words were a slap to her face. Yes, her body paid the
bills, but she wasn’t without a soul.

She pulled free from him and stood beside the bed.

His breath rushed out before he reached over and flicked on
a bedside lamp.

She scarcely noticed. Her voice shook. “Call girls have
standards too. I’m proud of my chosen profession and have never lied about who
I am and what I do.”

“What. The. Fuck.”

She frowned at his words, and the way his sharp stare
focused on her breasts, before taking in her upper arm.

Oh shit.

She glanced down. One of her breasts was discolored by a
mottled purple-blue bruise, the other looking only slightly less painful. Her
upper arm revealed obvious finger imprints.

His stare caught hers. His face was drawn into even harder
angles and planes. “Calvin?”

She nodded. “Yeah.”

“My god. You should have said something—”

Anger surged. “I tried, remember? But you didn’t believe
me.” She swung away as tears welled and hurt clutched at her soul.

“Where are you going?” he gritted.

She cast him one last, lingering look, even as defeat scored
her words. “Home. My home.”

“Kate. Don’t leave, not like this. Please…”

“It’s over, Blaine.” She held on to her poise, her
willpower, with everything she had. “Consider our last night together a
freebie.”

Kate spooned another mouthful of silky-smooth chocolate ice cream
between her lips. Her favorite comfort food slid down her throat on a gusty
sigh, causing a little blob to land on her old t-shirt.

She shrugged. For once there was no one to impress.

It’s why she enjoyed nothing better than wandering around
her apartment in old sweats and an even older tee, makeup-less and hair left to
its own devices. Add reruns of
Friends
on her plasma TV and she was one
happy woman.

Except she wasn’t happy, not by a long shot.

No overindulgence could offset the brittle emptiness within.
No other man could possibly substitute for the one man she really wanted.

When she’d told the agency she was having a week off, they’d
been far from happy.

Too bad.

She needed time alone. Time to think. Time to sort out all
the thoughts and uncertainties tangled in her mind. A week of overeating,
moping and generally not giving a stuff about anything at all.

But day one of her self-imposed solitude and she already
missed Blaine, as if she’d been his sweetheart, the love of his life instead of
his whore.

Fucking idiot.

She pushed another mouthful of ice cream into her gob about
the same time the doorbell buzzed. Placing her half-full bowl on the coffee
table, she checked the peephole before unlocking and opening the door to a
flower delivery man.

“Kate Matthews?” the gray-bearded, Santa-lookalike asked.

“Yes.”

Who would send flowers to Kate and not Brandy? The agency
forwarded gifts from clients on a regular basis but none knew her real name or
where she lived.

Except for Blaine. Well, he knew her name, she could bet he
probably knew where she lived too.

She accepted the proffered bunch of crimson roses with
little pockets of baby’s breath. Absently thanking the delivery guy before he
marched away, she closed her eyes to breathe in the sweet, old-fashioned rose
scent.

“The color made me think of you.”

Her eyes popped open, dismay and stark need fighting for
dominance as her stare connected to Blaine’s. She might have surmised the flowers
were from him, but she never imagined he’d be part of the package.

He appeared indolent and at ease propped against the far
wall near the twin elevators. His tall, masculine figure in jeans and a white
tee looked even more arresting. But she knew he was anything but relaxed.

Right then she could well imagine him born on the wrong side
of the tracks. He was brooding and dangerous. And way too disturbing for her
peace of mind.

“How did you know?” she whispered.

He raised a brow, though his stare was steely hard with
intent. “That you’d be home all this week or that I knew your address?” At her
shocked hiss of breath, he said unapologetically, “A man of my means has ways.”

So someone from the agency had chosen money over discretion?
No, that’d be a breach of contract. He’d obviously hired a private
investigator.

She withdrew from the doorway, shoulders shaking with barely
suppressed anger at his arrogance. He’d crossed a line this time. “You should
have respected my privacy.”

In a couple of strides he was in front of her, a hand on the
door to keep it open. “And I should have trusted you.” He released a long, slow
breath. “Kate, I’m sorry I misjudged you, sorry for not believing in you.” He
raked a hand through his hair. “I should have listened to you long before I
forced Calvin to tell me the truth.”

A picture of a blubbering, wrecked Calvin filled her head.
The self-important, son of a bitch wouldn’t have broken easily.

“I let you down. But believe me when I say Calvin won’t dare
bother you or anyone again.”

She released a heavy breath and nodded. “I’m glad.” She
didn’t want the details. Calvin deserved whatever Blaine gave him. And then
some.

His face was shadowed, pained. “And I won’t ever presume
your safety again.”

She shook her head, aware more than ever that now was the
time to assert herself. “You were my client. Nothing more. It’s not your place
to worry.”

“Is that really all I was to you?” he asked softly.

She refrained from screaming out the denial that was lodged
like acid at the base of her throat. Instead she let out a sigh and said, “I
looked good on your arm. End of story. I’m not made from glass. I can look
after myself.”

If hurt showed before, he barely held anger in check as he
asked, “When are you going to let yourself trust someone, Kate?” He shoved a
hand through his hair. “Or is sex the only time you let down your guard and
lose your inhibitions?”

She gasped, her hand lifting of its own volition and
delivering a stinging slap to his face. “Bastard,” she hissed, almost
physically sick from the emotions churning in her belly. Not helped one bit by
striking out at the man forcing her to admit the truth. Yet somehow she
couldn’t plug the resentment within. “And my name’s Brandy. It will always have
been Brandy to you.”

She stepped back and put pressure on the door to swing it
shut.

His expression hardened. He blocked the door with a foot. “No,
Kate.
I’m sorry, but I can’t accept that.”

The lump in her belly fluttered into something else.
Something she didn’t even want to examine. “You don’t have a choice,” she said,
but there was too little conviction in her voice.

“We all have choices. Let me in,” he said. “Please. Give me
at least a couple of minutes to plead my case.”

Kate swallowed. Shit, she really shouldn’t. This was mad,
stupid. But the sincerity in his usually intense expression couldn’t be denied.
She swung open the door. She’d give him a chance to explain himself and then he’d
be gone from her life.

Permanently this time.

The queasiness in her belly returned tenfold.

She nodded. “Fine. Two minutes. No more.”

It sounded final. Absolute. Such scant time to drink in his
every nuance and expression before she shut the door on him for good.

If he had similar thoughts he didn’t show it. Quite the
contrary. He strode inside with an assurance that made her chic apartment
suddenly stifling, in a hot, cramped kind of way. And this once she couldn’t
blame her swirling belly.

He turned to her. “Kate. I don’t want to lose you.”

On unsteady legs she walked to her quaint little bar with
its handful of quality bottled brews. She needed a drink. Definitely not
brandy. Her hands shook more than a little when she poured them both a shot of
aged scotch. She handed him a glass, careful not to touch him.

Even one brush of his fingers against hers and she just
mightn’t have the willpower to deny him.

She took a sip. “I was only yours for the short time you
paid for me, you know that.”

He blew out a ragged breath. “As far as I was concerned, you
were mine from the first moment I saw you. I never told you this, but I knew of
you long before we officially met.”

“You did?”

He tossed back the amber liquid, draining it in one long
swallow. “You were at a function with a senator at the time.”

Her eyes widened. She’d been young and so very green at the
time in her chosen profession. The senator had been bald, paunchy and twenty
years older than her. He’d also been an above-average lover. Shame their last
night together had been the night before he’d made his marriage vows to some
upper-class matron.

Not that Brandy had known at the time. She’d read about the
senator’s nuptials in the society pages of the local newspaper the next day. It
seemed she’d been his last fling before he’d settled down into a long life of
domestic bliss.

Though she’d felt nothing beyond affection for the senator,
she could recall even now the twinge of envy knowing she’d been cast aside for
someone more acceptable. In that moment she’d reverted to the little girl whose
father had walked out to be with someone else. In that moment she’d understood
a little of her mother’s torment.

Despite the senator’s obvious lust for her, being unwanted
in the one way that counted most had hit her hard.

Pushing aside the unwanted memories, she said at last, “You
rang the agency. You must have known my vocation?”

He nodded. “Yes, eventually.” He placed his empty glass onto
the bar with a clank. “I asked some questions. But no one knew anything about
you.”

“You hired a detective?”

He grinned. “Nothing that dramatic…at least not back then. I
was invited to the senator’s wedding. When he went into the men’s room I
followed him. If I recall correctly, it was at the trough when I asked him
about you.”

The trough.

Despite herself, a grin pulled at her lips at the wholly
unromantic picture. She could well imagine the senator would have felt
inadequate beside Blaine. In every way. “What did he say?”

“He gave me your working name and your agency’s number
before he wished me the best of luck. He understood my obsession.”

“But we hadn’t even met.”

He shrugged his shoulders, a wry smile curling his lips. “What
can I say? You caught my attention. I wanted you.”

“And you had me.” No mention of love at first sight. She bit
into her bottom lip. She was such a fool to even allow the idea to cross her
mind. How many times did she have to remind herself that Blaine wanted her
body, nothing else? “But whatever you imagined we shared, it’s over now.”

He rubbed a hand over a jaw darkened by stubble. A casual
gesture, but his eyes were lit with determination. “Is that what you want?”

She swallowed. Could he read her inner doubts?

“I know a little of your past,” he said gently. “Know you
were bullied by your peers.”

Realization hit. “Oh my god. Is that what the fundraiser was
all about?” she whispered.

His nostrils flared, as though he was a stallion ready to
fight and defend. “Yes.”

She couldn’t help but feel touched. What he’d done went
beyond anything she could have imagined in her wildest dreams. In trying to
heal some of her past hurt, he’d helped countless others too.

He lifted a hand. “If that means helping you face your past,
then I’ve achieved my goal.”

“Why?” she asked. “Why would you do that for me?”

He stepped toward her, his face stark with need. “Don’t you
understand?” he asked softly. “I’m here to stay. God, Kate. Not everyone in
your life wants to walk away.”

Her mouth dried and pain hit, sharp and intense. Surely he
couldn’t know that her father had left her mother for a younger woman.

Left me.

Strange, it didn’t really matter anymore. She
wanted
to
tell him, needed to get it off her chest. If there was anyone she could trust
enough to tell, it was Blaine.

“Yeah. Good old Dad walked out on my mom and me just months
after a gas stove explosion left terrible scarring on her face.” She shook her
head with slow, remembered pain. “Gives you great faith in humanity, doesn’t
it?”

Shit. Where had those words come from?

Blaine’s hands on her shoulders warmed her. His face was all
compassionate understanding. “You’ve been conditioned into believing looks are
everything. Kate, you
are
beautiful. Inside and out. Hell, you’re
perfect to me right now, with your hair mussed and wearing an old t-shirt.”

She looked up at him and released a little sigh, wishing she
could believe him. Every time she looked in the mirror she hoped her reflection
didn’t reveal someone horrid. “I’m happy enough with my life now.”

“Really?” He looked toward the puddle of melted ice cream in
her bowl. “So why the comfort food?”

She frowned, then stepped back. His hands dropped from her
shoulders about the same time her defenses came up, as though steel gates
keeping out an unwanted visitor. “I enjoy junk food.”

“As a teenager, probably yes. As an adult, I’m betting you
prefer the gym and retail therapy.”

Holy crap
. What didn’t he know about her? She glared.
“Your two minutes are up.”

His stare held hers, seemingly searching for answers. He
expelled a rough breath before he nodded and said quietly, “I’ll wait for you,
baby.”

She stood unmoving, her heart aching while he let himself
out of the apartment, taking away all that was good in her world. Only long
after he was gone and she’d finally shut the door did she realize that yes,
maybe he would wait for her. But how long would he stay if she accepted his
offer?

* * * * *

Kate spent the rest of the week vacillating between needing
Blaine with a quiet desperation that left her inwardly reeling, and a contrary
desire to escape the man causing the tumultuous emotions.

By the end of the week she knew she had to get back on the
wagon, so to speak, back into a routine. She’d come to accept that Blaine had
never been part of her future plans, at least not long term, just the same way
she wasn’t part of his long-term future.

It was in his DNA to want what he couldn’t have. She’d made
a living on that logic alone. She knew he would get tired of waiting and come
after her, would claim what he thought was his.

At least short term.

It was past time to move on.

The sooner she left, the sooner Blaine would forget about
her and find someone else unattainable. Or maybe he’d meet someone perfect for
him in every way. Wife material.

She closed her eyes for a moment as pain washed over her
anew. She had to get through this, had to forget about Blaine. And if the only
way to do that was to leave the country for a couple of weeks, then so be it.

She opened her eyes on a shuddering breath before she
snapped shut her carry-on luggage.

Everything was in place. She’d accepted the agency’s offer
of an Italian count’s proposal to stay with him for a few weeks in his luxury
five-star hotel. Count Pierre Moretti had been a regular john once, before she’d
minimized her lovers.