Hotbed of Scandal: Mistress: At What Price? / Red Wine and Her Sexy Ex / Bedded by Blackmail

‘Hen night?’

‘Amy’s do. Drunk on Mai Tais, Screaming Orgasms and a male stripper. Well-endowed, too…Their words, not mine. The bride-to-be appointed me chauffeur for the evening.’

Mariel’s expression didn’t alter, but he saw something flicker in her eyes. She reached for a croissant, broke it open. ‘I bet that put a dent in your social calendar.’

‘Not at all.’ He took a croissant himself. ‘I’d do it for you if you asked.’

‘Strip and ply me with Screaming Orgasms? No thanks.’ She raised her mug, took a gulp, then set it down with a chink. Her crisp retort made him smile on the inside. But only for a pulse-beat, because the image she conjured with her sharp retort hit him right between the thighs.

He lifted his mug to his suddenly parched throat and took a long, slow swallow. ‘I meant chauffeur duty. You don’t have a car yet, do you?’

‘Actually, I do. A pretty yellow hatchback. I’m picking it up today.’

He watched her eat in silence a moment, considering his words before speaking again, but he had to know for sure. ‘What’s the deal with your business partner?’ He rolled his mug between his fingers. ‘He isn’t only your business partner, is he?’

‘No. He—’ She shook her head, pressed her lips together as if she was afraid of saying too much. ‘And the word’s was. He’s history. Leave it at that.’

She drank her coffee greedily, then finished off her croissant in three quick, careless bites. ‘It’s handy you’re here; you can put those chauffeuring skills to work and drive me to the car dealer. If you’re not busy with any other…ah…commitments, that is.’ Without looking at him she rose, carried the dishes to the sink.

‘Clear schedule today.’ And wasn’t that handy? ‘When do you want to leave?’

She rinsed the dishes, put them away. ‘I’ll be ready in a few moments.’

‘That’s what they all say.’

While he waited he finished off the business section of his newspaper. Twenty minutes later he folded it and wandered over to the window. What had happened between Mariel and her lover? He told himself it was none of his business. He was still pondering when he heard her footsteps cross the tiles.

She’d accessorised the sundress with hot-pink sandals and matching beads.

She looked fresh. Fun. Gorgeous.

His fists tightened in the pockets of his shorts. Once he’d have told her, but now, with this current friction like a live wire between them, it was probably wiser to keep the verbal admiration to a minimum lest it be misinterpreted.

She stared at him a moment, a small frown marring her forehead, as if disappointed to find him lacking in the compliments he’d have once voiced without thought.

Then she spotted his car keys on the kitchen table. Their eyes met and duelled in the familiar battle he’d all but forgotten. ‘Uh-uh, I’m driving.’ She got to them first, swept them up with a laugh and jingled them above her head. ‘Your Porsche. All the way to town.’

‘You think so?’ He was behind her in a second, fingers tangling with hers, wrestling for possession.

Mariel’s laugh snagged in her chest as his familiar deep voice vibrated against her ear and between her shoulderblades. The smell of healthy male sweat and Dane’s own brand of scent seemed to wrap around her. She leaned back…or did he shuffle forward?…and his body bumped against hers and her grip on the keys faltered.

All movement ceased. Even her heart seemed to stop for one long breathless moment. His T-shirt shifted lightly against her bare back so that she was oh-so-aware of the hard abdominal ridges beneath. Over the whisper of the air-conditioning she heard the grandfather clock ticking in the hall. Felt Dane’s hand locked over hers. The rough edge of a fingernail. His breath on her hair. The power he could wield over her, both body and mind…If she let him…

She hesitated a beat too long. She sucked in a breath, but it whooshed out again as he spun her round. She glimpsed the molten steel in his gaze before his lips clashed with hers. Hard, impatient. If she’d been able, she’d have used her hands to push him away but they were trapped between them. His heart pounded heavily against one palm; his car keys dug into her chest in the other.

She had no time to think as sensations battered at her. The heat of his hands on her bare back, her breasts flattened against his rock-solid chest, the sound of her pulse thundering in her ears.

As if he commanded it, her lips opened beneath his, softening and allowing his tongue entry, duelling with hers in an erotic battle of wills. His taste swirled through her mouth, the after-taste of coffee, and something darker, richer, smoother.

There was nothing gentle about it; this assault on the senses was nothing like last night’s getting-reacquainted-and-see-how-we-like-it kiss.

It thrilled her. It terrified her. It gave her the strength she needed to push him away for the second time in as many days. She glared up at him, at the sharp angles of his face, harsh with a desire that had nothing to do with tenderness. Colour slashed his cheeks, his lips. She sucked in air, found it rich with his scent.

His eyes…she couldn’t read them behind the storm she saw there. ‘Who do you think you are, manhandling me that way?’ she demanded, and was appalled at the breathy, needy sound of her voice.

‘You’re over him or you wouldn’t have let me kiss you. Not last night. Not now. And definitely not like that.’

Like he really meant it.

Rather than tingly, her lips felt swollen and numb. She ran an experimental finger over them to check that they were still there. He’d told her last night that he’d enjoyed it, and that she had, too.

‘Why did you come back, Mariel?’

‘I told you, I—’

‘Aside from catching up with family.’

She forced herself to take a slow, steadying breath. To take a mental step away from what had just happened here and focus on Dane’s much more important question. ‘I want to create my own fashion label, set up my own boutique.’

‘You could have done that overseas.’ His voice lost some of its hard edge. ‘Or didn’t you think Paris was big enough for the two of you?’

Because her legs barely supported her, she sank onto the nearest chair. ‘It wasn’t that.’ She stared at her hands in her lap. He had to ask, didn’t he? Better to get it over with.

He took a chair, turned it around and sat astride it, leaning his forearms on the back. ‘Tell me.’

‘Luc’s a fashion photographer; smooth and sophisticated, and he swept an innocent girl like me away.’

At the low, throaty sound she looked up to see Dane’s jaw knotted. He nodded brusquely. ‘Go on.’

‘He liked my designs, but he liked my face better so I modelled for him. We went into business together. The money rolled in, we got involved, I moved into his apartment. It never occurred to me not to trust him. But it turns out Luc’s a drug dealer and he was having a fling on the side. I was just a useful addition to his cashflow. He was arrested on Christmas Day. I was taken in for questioning, too, and fingerprinted before being released.’

‘The bastard.’

‘Yes.’ Remembered humiliation washed through her. ‘My family knows nothing of this, and I want to keep it that way.’

‘You have my word on that.’

The reassuring touch of his hand on hers threatened to open the floodgate on unshed tears. And unwanted desire. She tugged her hand away, swiped at her eyes. ‘So…anyway, I want to set up business here, but finances are a little tight right now.’

His brow lifted. ‘I’d have thought you’d be laughing all the way to the…Don’t tell me…’

‘Yep. It’s gone.’ She rubbed at the tension in her neck. She felt like such a fool. ‘And I’m afraid now my name’s been in the press here—and linked with you—that they’ll dig up the dirt I left behind.’

‘Not if we give them something else to focus on and write about. Keep them interested in the here and now.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘We give them the impression we’re a couple.’