Mistress: At What Price? (8 page)

‘What is it with you and photography nowadays?'

‘It helps in my line of work.' She squinted up at the sun, then moved in, slid his sunglasses off his face, set them aside. ‘Okay, go ahead and be surly. It only adds to the appeal. Women adore that look. You have perfect male model potential. If you'd just polish the rough edges a little.'

‘I happen to like my rough edges. On second thought…' His gaze snagged hers and his attempts to unwind came to an abrupt halt. ‘Depends on who's doing the polishing.'

‘That would be me. Maybe a facial…' Leaning over, she caressed the side of his face with cool, slender fingers.

‘A facial? Not in a million years.' But it felt so damn good he allowed her to continue. Maybe she didn't need as much breathing space as he'd thought.

She pushed his pool-damp hair off his brow, her lacquered nails doing incredible things to the front of his scalp. ‘Definitely a haircut.' She aimed the camera again.

‘I'm missing something here,' he muttered as she snapped off a few more pictures.

‘Okay, I'll let you in on a little secret.' She checked the camera's images. ‘I want some publicity shots for my work and I'd like to use you.'

‘Me?'
Incredulous, he slid upright. ‘Me in a fashion catalogue, posing as some woman's accessory? That'll
be the day hell freezes over. Make that the day
after
hell freezes over.'

‘No women. Just you.'

‘Just me.' He squinted at her smile, frowned. ‘What are you up to?'

‘Okay. One of the reasons I wanted to work alone today was because I didn't want you to see my designs until I told you. I switched to designing men's fashion before I got involved in modelling.'

‘
Men's
fashion? Why would a woman like you want to design men's clothing?'

‘What do you mean, a woman like me?' Setting the camera aside, she sat down and looked at him with a kind of luminous excitement that made her eyes come alive. ‘I happen to be very good at it. And I love the challenge. The preciseness, the detail, the perfection.'

Green eyes studied him, one perfectly arched eyebrow raised as she cast a disconcerting gaze from head to toe. ‘Texture and style. I'm thinking of you in a steel-grey cashmere V-neck jumper. Something to show your shoulders to advantage.' She leaned forward. ‘Will you?'

‘Be your model? Not on your life.' He flopped back again to digest the new information.

She laughed lightly—an amused, tinkling sound. ‘Sure you won't change your mind, Mr Eligible Bachelor of the Year?'

He slung an arm across his eyes because he didn't want to see the smirk playing around her mouth. ‘I'm getting very weary of that line.'

‘Why? Most guys would find it a hoot.'

‘I'm not most guys. Frankly, I prefer to date women with more than half a brain in their head.'

‘That's a sweepingly generalised statement. Not all the babes are blonde bimbos, surely?'

He raised his arm briefly, so he could see the smirk and give it back. ‘You don't read the magazine. Obviously.' He paused. ‘Besides, blondes are on hold for now.'

The atmosphere changed. He felt the sexual zing hum across the space between them.

‘Okay,' he muttered. He might as well get it out of the way, because Mariel wasn't one to give up. ‘What do you want me to do?'

‘We'll take the formal shots here, then drive to Victor Harbor and do some more casual shots. Relax. It'll be fun.'

Fun? He could think of a lot better ways they could have enjoyed themselves this afternoon.

‘I
WANT
your honest opinion.' Mariel selected a charcoal deep V-necked sweater from the pile of garments spread across his living room and held it up for Dane's inspection.

He ran a hand through his hair, feeling as out of place as a microchip in a blancmange. ‘Nice?'

She shook her head in disbelief, her eyes twinkling with mirth. ‘Too right it is. It's the finest quality cashmere. Feel it.'

She lifted it to his face, stroked it over his cheek. ‘Light, yet warm.'

He'd never felt a more sensuous fabric. His imagination ran along the lines of how it would feel to lie with her on a rug made of the stuff and make love. ‘And you want me to put it on. In thirty-five-degree heat.'

‘Without a murmur of complaint.'

He scowled at the disarray. ‘What else have you got lined up?'

‘Relax, every piece here's casual. Except one.' She moved to a plastic suit bag, unzipped it to reveal a classic dinner suit.

‘There's always got to be one,' he murmured, eyeing it with malice.

‘Wait till you see the shirt…' She opened another bag, pulled it out.

‘Let's get it over with it, then.'

Moments later he was staring at his reflection in a full-length mirror. He studied himself for several long seconds. It
looked
like an ordinary formal shirt, but…‘The front's transparent.'

‘The
bib's
transparent,' she corrected. ‘It's sheer, but not too sheer. Just enough to hint at all that gorgeous skin underneath…' Her gaze stroked down his torso like a hot silk glove. ‘We'll set up in the front garden.'

Instant heat flooded his groin and he shifted his stance. ‘If you look at me that way for much longer the picture will be unusable.'

She smiled, her luscious glossed lips full and inviting. ‘Maybe I'm thinking I'll keep the picture for myself. As a memento.'

Smiling back and catching her hands in his, he leaned in, brushed his mouth over hers and murmured, ‘Why keep a memento when you can have the real deal?'

As soon as the words were out, he realised why. She was one step ahead. Anticipating the day they'd go their separate ways. He fought the sensation that she was tearing him up on the inside. Permanence wasn't part of the deal. He liked his life fine the way it was. Had been. Would be again.

Backing up, he eased the tension in his fingers so he could let go of hers and cruise his hands up the slender columns of her arms.

‘Dane…' She looked up at him. Desire still darkened her eyes, but the humour faded. ‘Can we keep things
light today? It's really important to me to get the business part of this right.'

‘Sure.' He shook off conflicting emotions. ‘Let's get this photo shoot out of the way so I can divest myself of this instrument of torture.'

 

Half an hour later, in his own jeans and T-shirt, Dane headed south along the coast with Mariel. They passed low rolling hills the colour of dried toast and a blue summer sea. The road, busy with tourists eager to reach the resort town, stretched out before them.

‘Have you read the article in this morning's paper?'

‘No time.' She reached for the paper at her feet, flicked through it until she came to the society pages and the photo of the two of them descending the staircase that led to the ballroom.

‘Well?' he said into the ensuing silence.

‘“New Year's latest celebrity couple,”' she read aloud. ‘“How long will it be before our popular Bachelor of the Year steps down?”' He heard the slide of denim as she rubbed her knuckles over her thighs. ‘It gives the impression we wanted.'

She read on in silence for a moment. ‘Plenty of publicity for OzRemote. It says you're heading north in just over a week.' She folded the paper, set it at her feet.

‘I arranged it around my work schedule. Justin's going to hold the fort. Come with me.' He didn't realise he had voiced the thought until he felt her gaze on him.

She paused, then said, ‘No.' Another pause. ‘This is your big moment. Our relationship shouldn't overshadow the great work you're doing. Besides,' she went on in a brighter tone, ‘I'll be flat out with my own schedule.'

He reached out, touched her hand. ‘Last night worked in your favour, too. You'll be a runaway success.'

‘Speaking of last night…tell me about Barbara.'

‘Barbara?' He shook his head. ‘She's poison.'

‘You two seemed to be having a heavy-duty conversation on the dance floor.'

‘I said what I should have said years ago. She didn't take it well.'

‘And that was…?'

‘That she's a manipulative, deceitful bitch.'

‘Strong words. How so?'

‘I saw Barbara outside a restaurant several years back in a clinch with some other young guy, even though she's supposed to be devoted to my father.'

‘Why didn't you warn him?'

‘I tried. He accused me of interfering in his life and told me to stay the hell away.' His body tensed and his fingers tightened on the steering wheel. ‘Haven't set foot on the property since.'

‘He was talking about you while you were dancing. And I saw the two of you outside the ballroom later. There's regret there, Dane. And more.'

A tight ball of emotion rolled up from his chest and lodged in his throat. ‘He made overtures about putting the past behind us.'

She touched his shoulder. ‘Family, Dane. Forgiveness. Do you think you might be able to mend some bridges?'

He swallowed, forced the ache down and kept his eyes on the road. ‘Do you think Adelaide's going to be rocked by an earthquake this afternoon?'

 

That evening Mariel sat cross-legged in one of Dane's big T-shirts in front of his main computer, uploading the
day's pictures. As she scrolled through the images she couldn't stop anticipation trickling through her at the thought of what tonight might bring.

As long as she kept this arrangement strictly casual. Focused on the present. Took it a day at a time. They'd done okay today, she thought. He'd been attentive and considerate. Sweet, really. On the occasions he'd hugged her there'd been warmth and affection. Their interaction had been open and uncomplicated. Just as she'd asked him.

But the sensual promise in his eyes had been enough to keep her blood on a low simmer all day.

She glanced up, that simmer upping a few degrees as Dane sauntered into the room with a bowl in his hand. She snapped her eyes back to the computer screen and the task at hand. Ordered herself to focus. Plenty of good-quality shots to choose from. She was surprised at how well they'd turned out. Luc's photography skills had taught her something useful after all.

‘Can I tempt you with ice-cream?'

‘In a minute.' Her eyes didn't leave the screen, but her other senses instantly focused on the man behind her—she could multi-task, couldn't she? The velvet timbre of his voice caressing the nape of her neck. The heat of his body. His tangy soap smell.

The simmer heated to a rolling boil, and without thought she leaned back so she could rub her head against his abdomen. Absently, she tried to remember a time when she'd craved physical touch quite so intensely. ‘This one.' She clicked the mouse for a closer look.

It was a shot of Dane in a dove-grey polo neck jumper with one foot braced on a rock, the turquoise
ocean and white sea spray a magnificent backdrop. She'd taken the photo on a forty-five degree angle.

‘Not bad.'

‘Not bad? It's bloody brilliant. Okay…' She saved it to a folder she'd created, then clicked to the next shot. ‘What were you saying about temptation? Wait…' She leaned forward, mesmerised at her own talent. Uncurled her feet and planted them on the floor. ‘This one. Oh…yeah…'

In the picture Dane's arms were crossed and he was leaning against grey-brown weather-smoothed rocks on the seaward side of Granite Island. He was wearing a dark V-neck sweater over jeans and looking out to Antarctica. ‘You do that brooding look like a professional model. Look out website, here he comes.' Even his long hair blowing in the constant wind that battered the island suited the image. ‘You're okay with that? Being on my website? When I get one, that is.'

‘We'll talk about it. Later.'

‘Whatever, that one's a definite.' She saved it to her folder. Then squealed as a cold sticky tongue laved the side of her neck.

‘Ice-cream.' He held a mouthful on a spoon in front of her lips.

‘Is it honeycomb?' She darted her tongue out to taste.

‘Is there any other kind?'

She closed her mouth over the spoon and let the cold creamy taste roll around on her tongue. When she'd savoured every last drop and licked her lips she said, ‘I thought temptation was mentioned.'

‘Ice-cream was mentioned.' His tongue laved her neck again, then his lips and teeth joined in, nipping and sucking her flesh. ‘Is that not temptation enough?'

She closed her eyes and arched her neck for more, then moaned when a cold, moist tongue slid along her collarbone. ‘It might be. It really depends on who's offering the ice-cream.' She could almost feel herself melting, sliding off the big leather chair and onto the floor. She gripped the edge of the desk. ‘And what else they might be offering…'

She heard the clunk as he set the bowl beside the computer, and her body shivered in the delight of anticipation. His hands glided over her shoulders and then down. Inside the loose neck of the supersized T-shirt and over her breasts. Around her nipples in ever-decreasing circles until she was practically begging. Her head lolled back on the chair.

She heard the sound of tearing seams and the T-shirt's neckline disintegrated. In one quick movement he ripped the whole thing apart down the middle, leaving her naked but for her panties. Hot palms massaged her belly. Her head lolled forward and she saw her own body. The contrast of his hard, dark hands on her pale and practically quivering flesh.

Then she watched, breathless, as both his hands slipped beneath the flat band of purple lace over her hips. The erotic sight nearly tipped her over the edge.

A distant siren wailed. She was vaguely aware of the computer's hum, that someone along the street was playing party hits. Then she wasn't aware of anything much at all.

The muscles in her stomach tensed, then spasmed. Her arms fell away from the desk to hang limply at her sides. Her thighs fell apart as her feet skidded away on the polished floorboards.

Oh, dear heaven… How had she let herself become
so submissive so quickly? she wondered dimly. The little voice in her head warned her that allowing another man to take command of her in this way was a prelude to disaster. And, because this was Dane, he wasn't only taking her body—he was taking her heart. The heart she'd sworn no man would take again. But for the life of her she couldn't move, could only lie helpless and let him continue.

One large hand rose, tapped a couple of keys. The screensaver disappeared; an image of herself flashed onto the monitor. ‘What do you see?' said the voice behind her.

She stared at the green unfocused eyes, the slack-jawed mouth, and managed to close it. Barely. She saw a woman who'd well and truly lost it.

She saw the glint of fear in the passion-dark depths of her gaze.

‘Not me,' she whispered, shocked. As she watched the monitor she saw his face join hers as he bent down next to her. ‘That woman is
not
me…' She tried to struggle up, but Dane's gaze was as captivating as any physical restraint.

‘Yes,' he murmured. ‘It is.'

His eyes smoked with intent as he parted her liquid heat with his fingers, then pushed inside, a long slide to paradise. His jaw chafed the place between shoulder and neck; his breath whispered over her breasts.

He withdrew slowly, circled the throbbing centre, then plunged inside again. Wherever he touched, heat followed. Pleasure. Hot endless waves rippled through her while the computer's inbuilt camera reflected it back.

Then she saw nothing but the bright sparkle of her climax as it carried her away.

The cheerful tones of Dane's mobile brought her back to reality with a jolt. The air stirred and his heat dissipated. He moved to the other end of his L-shaped desk to answer it.

‘Hi, Jus,' she heard him say, as if he'd just been working over a particularly absorbing computer problem rather than her. ‘No, nothing important.'

He chuckled, and her sparkle faded. Had he been referring to what they'd been doing? Biting her lips, she pulled the torn edges of the T-shirt together, clicked off the monitor so she couldn't see herself.

‘I guess so.' The easy humour drained from his voice. ‘What's so urgent?' He nodded, then a lopsided grin creased his face. ‘In that case, how can I refuse?'

She heard him flicking through papers and stole a glance at him. He jotted something down, then said, ‘Yeah. She's staying here for now.' He'd turned away from her as he spoke. He could have been talking about the weather. ‘No…' His shoulders lifted, one hand fisted on the desk. ‘That's the official line we're taking, yeah.' Silence while Justin spoke, then a low laugh. ‘I don't think so.'

Did he already regret not being free to pursue whatever lady of the moment took his fancy? A shiver cooled the sparkling warmth she'd been enjoying just minutes ago.

She wanted him to look at her the way he'd been looking at her before. To show some indication that he'd enjoyed what they'd just done, that it wasn't all one-sided.

Her legs had recovered just enough to support her, so she rose and crossed to him, rolling the chair with her. He fumbled the pen as she inveigled her way
between his body and the desk, but he managed to catch it mid-fall and jotted something else on his notepad.

His jaw was bristly when she ran her fingertips over it. ‘What?' she mouthed, capturing his gaze with hers. His pupils swallowed up his irises until only a thin rim of molten silver remained. His confident business persona slipped. Whatever he had started saying to Justin slurred to a stop.