The Billionaire's Virgin Mistress

She wasn’t a woman who would beg easily. She wasn’t playing hard to get, either—he was almost sure of that. Plain and simple, she hated being touched. By him? Or by anyone?

His usual women were willing. All too willing, tediously and predictably so; which was probably why it had been a considerable while since he’d shared his bed.

Cade released her, rubbing his palms down his trousers, and stated the obvious. “You feel the attraction, too. But for some reason you’re fighting it.”

“I don’t feel anything! Or is your ego so inflated you can’t stand rejection?”

The wildcat was back, eyes glittering. “You do feel it, Tess. I can read the signals.” He gave her a mock salute. “We’ll pick this up in the morning. Good night.”

The door closed softly behind him. Tess locked it with a decisive snap, then sank down on the bed. She’d never in her life met anyone like Cade Lorimer.

A few moments ago, desire had almost overwhelmed her. Desire was a phenomenon she’d read about, always with faint derision; it wasn’t something she’d ever expected to attack her like an enemy from within.

When Tess woke the next morning, the sound of the sea was drowned by the hard pelt of rain driven against the windowpanes.

Trying to shake off a strange sense of oppression, she sat up, and saw with a jolt of unease that an envelope had been pushed under her door.

Opening it as warily as if it contained a deadly virus, Tess unfolded the sheet of heavy vellum. I’ll stay at the hospital all day, it said. The housekeeper will find something for you to wear and the dogs will be kept in the kennels. Cade.

His handwriting was angular, decisive and very masculine. Cautiously Tess unlocked the door, peeked down the empty hallway and grabbed the small heap of clothes on the floor. Tights, a scoop-necked T-shirt and a pair of sandals that looked brand-new: the housekeeper had come through.

Quickly she dressed and went downstairs for breakfast. She spent the rest of the day curled up in the library, reading and listening to the rain, birch logs snapping in the fireplace. But to her intense annoyance, from midafternoon onward, she found herself straining for the sound of Cade’s car.

She wanted him to drive her home. That was the only reason she was interested in his return.

She got up, pacing back and forth, wishing the rain would let up so she could go outdoors. Then, from the corner of her eye, she noticed a collection of framed diplomas on the wall of the alcove beyond the fireplace. Walking closer, she saw degrees from Harvard, awards from the London School of Economics, the letters dancing in front of her eyes.

All the diplomas were Cade’s.

Humiliation wasn’t an emotion new to Tess; but she’d never before felt it so keenly or so painfully. She hadn’t even graduated from high school.

Worse, she was the daughter of a small-time crook and his unscrupulous mistress.

Cade Lorimer was way out of her league. One thing was certain—she’d never be his mistress. Not that she wanted to be, of course.

Viciously Tess dug the poker into the glowing coals, tossed another log on the fire and went back to her book.

Dinner was a welcome break, even though her appetite had deserted her. But when Cade still wasn’t back by nine o’clock that evening, Tess clumped downstairs to the kitchen. She was trapped in this horrible house for another night, she thought irritably, making herself a mug of hot chocolate, stirring in too many marshmallows, then taking an experimental sip.

Behind her, the swing door swished open. Cade said, “You’ve got marshmallow on your chin.”

She glowered at him. “Nice to see you, too.”

“I need a drink—something stronger than hot chocolate.”

“How’s Del?” she countered; and realized to her surprise that she really wanted to know.

“Cranky as a bear in a cage. Coming home late tomorrow afternoon. Whose clothes are you wearing?”

“The butler’s granddaughter’s,” she said.

The tights were too short and the T-shirt too small. Trying very hard to keep his gaze above the level of her breasts—which were exquisitely shaped—Cade opened the door of the refrigerator, took out a beer and uncapped it. Taking a long draught, he said, “Hospital food has to be the worst in the nation and their tap water tastes like pure chlorine.”

He’d dropped onto a stool by the counter and was loosening the collar of his shirt. He looked tired, she thought reluctantly, watching the muscles in his throat move as he swallowed.

His body hair was a dark tangle at the neckline of his shirt; the thin cotton clung to the breadth of his shoulders. As he rolled up his sleeves, corded muscles moved smoothly under his skin. Moved erotically, Tess thought, and buried her nose in her mug. What was wrong with her? She never noticed the way a man moved.

The silence had stretched on too long. She said politely, “Is it still raining?”

“Supposed to stop tomorrow morning.” He took another gulp of beer. “What did you do all day?”

“Read in the library.”

“Right up your alley,” he said with a faint smile.

One smile. That was all. No reason for her to feel as though he’d given her the sun, the moon and the stars. The man had charm to burn, she thought crossly; but she’d always considered charm a slippery attribute at best. Picking up her mug to drain the last of the hot chocolate from it, she said tautly, “If you’re not able to drive me home tomorrow morning, I’m sure there’s a chauffeur hidden away in this barn of a house. I’ll get him to drive me…good night.”

“Wait a minute!”

Furious, she glanced down. His fingers—those elegant fingers—were clamped around her left wrist. “Let go,” she flared. “I’m not in the mood for macho.”

“Del won’t be home until the afternoon, and he wants to meet you—so you can’t go back before that. And when you meet him, don’t say or do anything to upset him. He’s to be kept quiet for the next while, and he’s not supposed to worry about anything.”

“You told him I was here? That I’d meet him?” she said, her voice rising.

“Of course I did. Why else are you here?”

“How was I supposed to leave? I don’t have a car, there’s no bus to Malagash Island and I don’t like hitchhiking in a downpour.”

Cade stood up, still clasping her wrist. “You’ll meet him, Tess. You don’t have to throw your arms around him. But, by God, you’ll be polite.”

“Is this your CEO act?” she snapped. “Well, whoop-de-doo.”

Her eyes were like green fire. Not stopping to think, Cade dropped his head and kissed her, hard and fast and with all the pent-up emotion of the last two days. Then he stepped back, his heart juddering in his chest. “I’ve been wanting to do that ever since I saw you jogging on the beach,” he snarled. “You be around when Del comes home, and watch what you say. If you’re half the person the islanders say you are, you wouldn’t want an old man’s death on your conscience.”

His kiss, so unexpected, so forceful, had seared through her like a bolt of lightning. Her adrenaline sky-high, any caution lost in rage, Tess wrenched her wrist free and blazed, “You’re the one who brought me here—what about your conscience?”

“My conscience is my concern. Just behave yourself tomorrow.”

“Don’t tell me how to behave—I’m twenty-two, not ten,” Tess retorted, itching to throw her empty mug in his face. Banging it on the counter instead, she pivoted to leave the room.

Like a steel clamp, Cade’s hand closed around her shoulder. “I’m not only telling you how to behave, I expect to be obeyed. Have you got that straight?”

“I’m not an employee you can fire when the whim takes you!”

“No,” he said in a voice like ice, “you’re Del’s granddaughter.” Then, with a deliberation that was subtly insulting, he released her and stepped back.

Was she really related to the old man she’d seen in the hospital? Or was this whole setup as unreliable as a bad dream? Unable to think of a thing to say, as furious with herself as she was with Cade, Tess marched out of the room with as much dignity as she could muster. As she raced up the back stairs, she realized she was scrubbing at her mouth, doing her best to erase a kiss that had been shattering in its heat, its anger and its imperious demands.