Claiming His Mistress

“Eighteen.” It was easier to let him operate the control panel than lean across him and do it herself. “Thank you.”

“You’re looking good, Katie,” he remarked as the compartment started rising.

She flashed him an acknowledging glance. “So are you.”

“You’re back home with your father?”

“No. I’m on my own. How’s your mother?” she retaliated, burning with the memories of how each parent had played a critical part in breaking up the relationship they saw as destructive to the best future for Carver and Katie.

“She has to take it easy now. Not as well as she used to be.”

And probably plays that to the hilt, too, Katie thought bitterly. Lillian Dane would never give up her apron strings. She wondered how Carver’s wife coped with her mother-in-law, and was instantly prompted to add, “And your wife?”

The supposedly polite interest question was not immediately answered. The tension in the silence that followed it was suddenly crawling with all the conflicts left unresolved between them, and the string of circumstances that had kept the two of them apart, preventing any possible resolution.

Katie gritted her teeth as the memories flooded back—the pressures that had forced the break-up, the timing that had been wrong for them, even years later when Carver had come to England looking for her, just when she’d been between jobs and back-packing through Greece and Turkey…the letter he’d left, asking if there was any chance they could get together again, a letter she didn’t know about for six months…her phone-call, wild hope fluttering through her heart until the call was answered by his wife…then the confirmation from Carver himself that he was, indeed, married.

That was the cruellest cut of all!

Five years apart…then six months too late!

Though to be absolutely fair, maybe she’d read too much into his coming to London, too much into the letter, as well. It had only been an inquiry, not a promise. He might simply have wanted to put the memory of her to rest, and her apparent lack of response could well have effected that very outcome. She could hardly blame him for getting on with his life.

He wasn’t hers.

He’d never be hers again.

“My wife died two years ago.”

The flat statement from Carver rang in her ears, then slowly, excruciatingly, bounced around her mind, hitting a mass of raw places she didn’t want to look at. The sense of waste was totally devastating.

She wasn’t aware of the elevator coming to a halt.

She was blind to the doors opening.

It took Carver’s voice to jolt her out of it. “This is the eighteenth floor.”

“Oh! Sorry!” she babbled, and plunged out of the compartment, without even the presence of mind to say goodbye to him.

She found herself in a corridor with a blank wall at one end, glass doors at the other. Her legs automatically carried her towards the doors which had to lead somewhere. It wasn’t until Carver fell into step beside her that she realised he had followed her out of the elevator. She stopped, her head jerking towards him in startled inquiry.

“This is my floor, too,” he informed her, his eyes flashing derisively at her non-comprehension. “Are you seeing someone here?” he went on, moving ahead to open the way for her.

“Robert Freeman.” The name tripped out, though it was none of Carver’s business. “Are you seeing someone?”

He shook his head, holding one of the glass doors open and waving her through to what was obviously a reception area. “I work here, Katie,” he said quietly as she pushed herself into passing him.

Again her feet faltered, right in the doorway next to where he stood, shock and bewilderment causing her to pause and query this extraordinary statement. What did a doctor have to do with an investment company?

“You work…?” was as far as she got.

He bent his head closer to hers, murmuring, “I’m one of the partners… Andrews, Dane and Freeman.”

Not only was she stunned by this information, but she caught a light whiff of a scent that put all her senses on hyper-alert. Recognition of the distinctive male cologne was instant and so mind-blowing, she almost reeled away from it, barely recovering enough to hold her balance and move on into the reception area.

“How…how nice for you,” she somehow managed to mutter, though she was totally unable to meet his eyes.

He couldn’t have been the pirate, she frantically reasoned, but her gaze was drawn in terrible fascination to the mouth that now thinned at her lame response, and her heart was catapulting around her chest at the possibility that fantasy had crossed into reality.

It was the physical similarities that had got to her at the masked ball. Plus her own sexual response to them. But that didn’t make his identity certain. Far from it. Neither did the cologne. It was probably a popular brand bought and used by many men. She was not normally close enough to most men to notice a scent. It was silly to get so rattled by a coincidence that could be easily explained.

“Life does move on,” Carver remarked sardonically, responding to her inane “nice” comment.

“Yes, it does,” she quickly agreed, hating herself for being so hopelessly gauche.

He hadn’t become a doctor but he’d certainly moved up in the world, a long way up if this office building was anything to judge by. She didn’t understand why he hadn’t pursued a medical career, but he certainly had to have become a very successful businessman to be a partner here. His pride had surely been salved by such success. As for her pride…

Given the chance, would she have Carver back now that he was free again?

Could one ever go back?

He shut the glass door.

She screwed up her courage to look directly at him, to judge if there was anything left for them.

It was a futile effort.

“Laura will look after you,” he coolly instructed, gesturing towards the reception desk.

Having dismissed her into another’s hands, he turned aside and headed off down a corridor which ran off the reception area, striding fast as though he couldn’t wait to get away from her…like the pirate king after declaring the dance was over.

Katie stared after him, any thought of taking some positive initiative utterly wiped out by the comparison pounding through her mind.

Had it been Carver in the buccaneer costume? A widower, who walked alone, feeling the same compulsive physical attraction she had felt because the chemistry was still there for them? Always would be?

A convulsive shiver ran down her spine.

Even if it had been Carver, he’d made it plain he wanted nothing more to do with her…at least, not with the Carmen she’d been role-playing. He couldn’t have known who she really was.

But the man who’d accompanied her to this office floor did know the woman he’d just left, making it equally plain he was finished with her.

She watched him enter an office and disappear from view, heard the closing of the door behind him, and knew there was not going to be any comeback. He didn’t want any further involvement with her.

The dance was over.

It had been over for Katie Beaumont and Carver Dane years ago.

CHAPTER FOUR