Mistress Minded (3 page)

“Well, maybe we should talk about the sleeping arrangements, honeybun,” Jayne said.

She sassed him when she was nervous, he realized. She dropped into that shy, quiet mouse mode when he was getting too close to the truth, but when he was scaring her she got mouthy.

But he knew that Jayne wasn’t really his mistress, even though she played the part of one. And he was her boss, so he needed to walk a fine line here. Not only for the court of law but with his own conscience, because he’d always believed people who couldn’t keep their mind on business shouldn’t be in the workplace.

“I’ll take the couch,” he said gruffly, then was surprised at the scratchy sound of his own voice. Be
cause what he really wanted to do was take her on the couch or any other surface. Damn, he shouldn’t be this horny for this woman.

She moved past him into the room. She opened the French doors and stepped out onto the balcony. Adam followed her. A rainstorm was moving over the ocean and a cool breeze blew across his face.

He tipped his head back, imagining that the real world had disappeared and he and Jayne were the only ones who existed.

For a minute, he stood on the threshold studying her. She stared at the horizon and he knew she was searching for answers, just as he was. In his quest to keep business first he’d made a serious miscalculation, one he was going to regret for a long time.

He’d erred on the side of familiarity and factored in the control he took for granted, never considering Jayne outside the office, in this tropical paradise. She called to him just as Eve had beckoned Adam, and he knew that—like his namesake—he was going to follow her on the path of temptation. But he didn’t want to lose his Eden.

And Adam had no doubt that his Eden was the world he’d carefully created for himself. The world he’d learned to take for granted because it was intentionally devoid of any of the emotions that made life sticky. Emotions like lust, desire and temptation.

All the things that Jayne called from him without even realizing it. Not things, he thought, emotions.

Those damn feelings he’d never been able to control, despite his experience watching his mother’s heart break when his dad had left them. Despite his own experience when he’d been twenty and trusted the wrong woman. Despite all the couples he’d seen cheat on a spouse with a co-worker. He still wanted Jayne.

Damn the consequences, his hormones urged. But his mind knew that a price always had to be paid, and he hadn’t decided yet if the price for a few weeks with Jayne was too high.

“Chère?”

She turned toward him and he saw something in her eyes he didn’t understand. The wind blew her hair across her face. One silky strand caught on her lips. She reached up to brush it aside and it blew back again.

“We’re going to have to share the bed. Housekeeping will notice if we don’t,” she said at last.

He’d thought the same thing. But he knew that if Jayne was in his bed he’d be unable to sleep. Unable to breathe. Unable to do anything but pull her into his arms and kiss that mouth of hers that had been tormenting him for so long.

That strand of hair brushed her face again. This time he caught her hand before she could tuck the lock away. With his free hand, he reached up and swept it back behind her ear, then smoothed his thumb over her lower lip.

“I…”

He tapped his finger against her mouth, stopping the words he wasn’t sure she could find. “I’ve put us in an untenable situation.”

“Why untenable?” she asked, tipping her head back.

He leaned a little closer, desperate to taste her. Her breath caressed his face with each exhalation.

Wisdom be damned. “I want you, Jayne.”

Her pupils dilated and her breathing speeded up. She watched him with an intensity that made him want to measure up in her eyes. But deep inside, he realized he knew little of what standards she used to measure men.

He doubted he’d be able to meet her needs. Even his mistresses, women he’d chosen because of their materialistic natures, had eventually needed emotions that he’d been unwilling to give them.

Jayne pulled out of his arms. “I’d better go make sure that fax went through.”

He should just let her leave. That would be the wise choice, but he couldn’t. He didn’t know why, but she called to something deep inside him that he’d thought he’d forgotten long ago. “Jayne?”

She pivoted to face him. Her eyes were wide and questioning. Her skin was flushed with arousal and he felt an answering pull in his groin. Yes, his body said, take her now and end all this superficial double-talk.

“Have I misread the signals here?” he asked at last.

She shook her head.

She turned away and he let her go, still unsure that he should let anything develop between them. Not only because of the vulnerability he’d glimpsed in Jayne’s eyes, but because of the protectiveness it called from him.

Jayne tugged at the protectiveness he had hidden beneath his armor of cynicism and he wasn’t going to let her glimpse it.

“J
ayne?” Adam's voice was deep and commanding. She fought against the pull he had over her. Forced herself to take another step before she glanced over her shoulder at him.

She wasn't sure what to say to him. It was one thing to imagine having an affair with him, something else entirely to actually do so. In his eyes she saw a deep passion that she'd never really glimpsed in any of the men she'd dated. Just his gaze alone brought her body to readiness. Her pulse beat faster, her breathing came quicker and her center contracted.

If he lifted his hand and crooked his finger, she'd come to him. She'd bare herself to him and take what
ever he had to give. She'd stop thinking about all that was wise and sane and just indulge that part of her that had been quiet and lonely for too long.

She bit her lower lip, fighting against her own urges and the potent power in his gaze. She slid one foot forward before realizing what she was doing. She stopped.

Though she always perceived herself as brave and adventurous, she knew deep inside that she was much too practical to ever really do anything that had a high risk potential.

And sleeping with Adam had risk written all over it. Not just on the job front, but on the emotional level. There was a reason she'd felt safe fantasizing about Adam; he was strictly off-limits. She didn't like to examine her own motives in life too closely but knew herself well enough to acknowledge that every relationship she'd ever had had been structured to make her feel safe. And safety came from not risking her emotions.

“What?” she asked at last.

He leaned back against the railing, his shirt pulled tight across his muscular chest. A breeze danced past, blowing a strand of hair across her face and obscuring her view for a moment. She hesitated, then pushed her hair back behind her ear. She'd learned early on that hiding from the things that scared or excited her the most was never a good idea.

“Should I have kept silent?” he asked.

Yes! she wanted to scream. “It would have made the next two weeks easier.”

“Not really,” he argued. He crossed his arms over his chest and she wished she could mirror his casual pose. But she had neither his experience nor his charm. Her coping mechanisms were smart-ass comments and a quip. And somehow she doubted either one was going to help her through this situation.

What had he said? Something about the next two weeks being hell?

He was right, but she didn't want to admit it. She'd spent a lifetime filling in for everyone. She was an emotional fill-in for her mother, for all the emotion her mom could never coax from her wealthy lovers. For her fiancé, Ben, Jayne had been a substitute for the woman he'd really loved, and when Carrie had returned he'd left her. For Adam, Jayne was a fill-in for his mistress, a temporary scratching of an itch. She was warm and female, but was she willing? The fact of the matter was she wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed with Adam.

For once in her life, she wanted to take what she yearned for, and say to hell with the consequences, the way her mother did. But Jayne had paid the piper one time too many to totally allow herself that freedom.

“Honeybun…” She tried for the light, flippant tone she'd managed so easily before, but it escaped her.

The heart of the matter as far as she was concerned was that she was tired of filling in for others. For once she wanted to have a starring role with Adam.

“Don't get sassy,
chère.
I know you do that when you're nervous. I'm just asking for some honesty here.”

She froze. He was the first person to ever call her on that behavior. She crossed her arms over her chest. “You're asking for more than I want to give you.”

“Why?” he asked in the silky tone of his that made her want to confess her deepest secrets. He moved toward her with measured steps and she fought the urge to inch backward.

“I need more than you've ever been willing to give your women.”

“I'd never group you with any other woman,” he said, stopping in front of her. A thrill went through her. He framed her face with his hands, staring down into her eyes. She wondered what he was searching for and if he'd find answers there.

She was touched that he'd said she was in a class by herself. But she knew he'd diverted her question. “I'm serious. I can't enter into a relationship knowing it's not going to last.”

“I can't, either,” he said, dropping his hands but still remaining close to her.

She knew what he meant. No one started affairs with the intent of ending them. But their own situation was unique. They had two weeks in the Caribbean to
enjoy each other. Working together after they'd slept together wasn't something either of them would be able to abide.

“But yours never last,” she pointed out.

“You're alone as well.”

“Touché.” She was alone for a very different reason. She was searching for the missing piece to the puzzle that was her life. And she wasn't willing to try to make the wrong one fit. She had a careful list of traits she was looking for in a man, and she had to be honest. Adam fit the bill on some, but not all of them.

The phone rang before they could continue their conversation. Adam looked as if he was going to ignore the interruption.

“I'll get it,” Jayne offered hastily.

“Stay here. We're not finished with this discussion.”

Adam left the balcony, and she heard the low rumble of his voice talking on the phone. She hugged her arms around her chest, feeling so much more alone than she'd ever let him know. He was close to offering her something she'd craved for a long time, and she wasn't certain if her plan for life would hold up to a real temptation. It had hurt her when Ben had walked away, but not very deeply because she'd never let him glimpse the real soul beneath the public facade. She'd been unable to hide from Adam from their very first meeting.

Suddenly she couldn't wait any longer for him. She had to get away before she did something really stupid and gave in to the wild impulses flowing through her. There were stairs leading down from the balcony to the beach, and she quickly unfastened the gate and hurried down them.

She wasn't running away…not exactly. She knew she'd have to face Adam, and he'd want an answer to the question left unspoken between them. But she needed to think and plan. Because if she became his mistress she wanted to be prepared for a time when she'd be alone again.

 

“Jayne?”

She paused near the bottom of the stairs to the beach. The call hadn't been important—not compared to what was happening with Jayne. Just his office informing him they'd received the fax.

“Not now. I need to clear my head before dinner.”

“Wait, I'll go with you.”

“Why? In case the Angelinis see me?”

He hadn't thought of that, but it was the perfect excuse to go with her. “Yes.”

She made a strangled sound and started moving again. Adam hurried to join her. He'd never seen his ultra-efficient assistant like this.

“What's up?”

“Don't be solicitous,” she said.

He reached out and grasped her arm. Her skin was
soft and smooth. The full curve of her breast brushed his finger and he realized he'd trade his whole kingdom for an afternoon alone with Jayne. And that was very dangerous.

For a minute everything else in the world dropped away. The sea breeze filled his nostrils and the roar of the surf filled his ears. They were alone in the world, man and woman, and nothing mattered but that.

Her mouth was opened on a sigh and he knew she felt something when he touched her. He leaned toward her, needing that mouth under his. Needing it as he'd needed nothing else since he'd decided that life was better lived alone.

Alone… He pulled back abruptly, dropping his hand. A sheen of tears appeared in Jayne's eyes for a second, then she blinked and wrapped her arms around her waist. He'd been called a ruthless bastard more times than he wanted to admit, but this was the first time he'd really felt like one.

He cursed under his breath and pivoted to face the ocean, staring at the endless water. If he were a different man he'd take Jayne out on a yacht and disappear with her. Forget about the hotel business and promises made when he'd been too young to understand that passion and emotion weren't easily controlled by even the strongest men.

The silence between them felt tense and Adam knew he was to blame, but he didn't know what to
say to Jayne. She was so much more vulnerable than he'd have guessed. God, he'd screwed this up royally.

He should apologize but couldn't find the words. “We have to get past this.”

“I'm willing to do my job.”

“It has to be more than a job or we'll never pull it off.”

“It can never be more than a job, Adam.
Never.
”

“Why not? I'm very good at acting the part. The Angelinis will never imagine I'm not the most devoted of lovers.”

“I don't want you to pretend to be interested in me. I might forget the ruse and then we'd both be in trouble.”

Jayne walked away, and he stood there watching her solitary figure. Instincts he didn't know he had rose in him. He wanted to protect her.

Even from himself?

He ignored the question. It wasn't his intent to hurt her. He just wanted…the same damn thing his father had wanted when he'd come here with Martha all those years ago.

Cursing, Adam deliberately turned away. For the first time he understood a little of what had motivated his father, and he didn't like it.

He'd been toying earlier with asking Jayne to really be his mistress, but he knew now he couldn't. What kind of man took what he wanted at the cost of the innocents in the world? Adam had no doubt that
Jayne was one of the innocents. There had been something in her eyes that had made him feel every inch the cynical bastard he'd known he was from the moment they'd met.

 

Adam wasn't in their suite when she returned, and Jayne was honest enough to admit she was relieved. She took a shower, dried her hair and then gazed at her face for a minute. She'd made some important decisions on her walk.

Realizing at age twenty-eight that she'd spent most of her life running and hiding wasn't a very comfortable discovery, but it was the truth.

There were two times in her life when she'd wanted to act on her feelings and hadn't. The first had been the one occasion when she'd met her father. She'd been twelve and she'd wanted to ask him if she could call him dad. But she'd hidden in her room and refused to talk to the tall dark stranger who had given her half her genes. He'd never visited her again, and she still felt regret.

The second time had been with Ben, when she'd felt him slipping away from her. She'd wanted to ask him if he had doubts about marrying her, but in the end had kept silent.

This time she'd decided that hiding wasn't an option. She wanted Adam as more than a two-week lover. And she knew the risks involved with the leap
she was about to take. During her shower she'd put together a rough plan.

She knew she'd have to start looking for another job right away. Because working together would be…difficult if things didn't pan out.

She put on the plush terry-cloth robe the hotel had provided and applied her makeup with a deft hand. She knew about fashion from her mother, and used all of those tricks now. A little voice deep inside pointed out that she wasn't exactly being herself, but Jayne ignored it. Being herself had gotten her a high-paying job and a lonely town house.

Maybe it was time for a change. She grinned at herself in the mirror, pretending not to notice that her eyes were strained and the makeup made her face seem strange and foreign. She exited the bathroom. Adam was in the process of pulling on his dress shirt. He pivoted toward her as she emerged. She'd thought she was ready to see him again. She'd been wrong.

His chest was bare and muscled. A light dusting of hair covered it, tapering to a thin line that disappeared into his waistband. God, he was gorgeous. Her gaze swept over him time and again and she knew she should look away, but couldn't.

“I didn't realize you were back,” she said at last. What an idiot, she thought. Obviously Adam was going to have some doubts about her intelligence if she didn't snap out of this dreamy state.

When he gave her one of his wry half grins, she
realized she always accepted them as signs of real emotion, but perhaps they weren't. “I am. We need to talk before dinner.”

That was the last thing she wanted to do. She'd been too chatty earlier. She knew she'd let him see too much of the real woman behind his handy little assistant today, and she didn't want to feel that vulnerable again.

“I don't think so. I just needed some time to adjust to being your pretend mistress.”

“That's part of the problem,” he said.

She couldn't endure another conversation on the topic, so she crossed to the armoire where the clothing Adam had purchased hung. Jayne usually chose clothes in shades of black, beige or white because they went together. Adam's mistresses apparently didn't worry about that, nor about the amount of luggage they brought with them. There was an entire rainbow of clothing hanging there.

“What's part of the problem, Adam?” she asked, congratulating herself on totally ignoring the fact that he had a scar above his left nipple. Where had he gotten it?

“Pretending. Frankly, you're not very good at it.”

“No, I'm not,” she said, allowing herself a small smile. “But I think I can handle it now.”

“Do you?”

“Yes,” she said. Her fingers fell on a boldly colored wraparound skirt and the gold taffeta, sleeveless
blouse that went with it. She held both items to her body and glanced at herself in the full-length mirror on the armoire door. Then she took a deep breath, because she was about to take a huge leap and knew from past experience that there would be no one to catch her if she fell. And she'd probably be free-falling for a while.