Читать книгу It Started With One Night: The Magnate's Mistress / His Bride for One Night / Master of Her Virtue - Miranda Lee - Страница 12

‘THAT gold colour looks fabulous on you,’ Max said as they waited for the lift to take them down to the restaurant. ‘So does the dress. I’m glad you took my suggestion to wear it tonight.’

Tara almost laughed. Suggestion! He hadn’t suggested. He’d insisted.

The dress was a cheong-san, brought home by Max after an earlier trip to Hong Kong. Made in gold satin, it might have looked demure with its knee-length hem and high Chinese collar, except for the fact it was skin-tight, with slits up the sides which exposed a good deal of thigh. It was an extremely sensual garment.

Not that Tara needed help in feeling sensual at that moment. The last couple of hours had left all her senses heightened and her body humming. She’d certainly aroused the beast in Max with her provocative behaviour, along with another couple of Maxes. Max, the insatiable. And Max, the rather ruthless.

She shivered at the memory of the interlude on the billiard table.

Tara had briefly thought of sex as a game before going into Max’s den. She hadn’t realised at the time that Max was far ahead of her in the playing of erotic games, making her now wonder how many other women he’d entertained in the past in such a fashion.

At least, she hoped they’d been in the past.

A long and more objective look at Max—so resplendent tonight in black tie—confirmed what Tara had always subconsciously known. That women would throw themselves at him in droves. She had, hadn’t she?

‘Max,’ she said with sudden worry in her voice and in her eyes.

‘What, my darling?’

When he took her hand and raised it to his lips, she looked deep into his eyes.

‘Have you ever been unfaithful to me?’

‘Never,’ he returned, so swiftly and so strongly that she had to believe him.

And yet…

‘Why do you ask?’ he went on, clearly perturbed by her question.

‘I can see by tonight,’ she said carefully, ‘that I haven’t exactly…satisfied you these past twelve months.’

‘That’s not true, Tara. I’ve been very happy with you,’ he claimed.

A flicker in his eyes, however, showed otherwise.

‘I don’t believe you, Max. Tell me the truth.’

‘Look, I admit there have been moments when I wished you were more comfortable with your body, and your sexuality. But I was not discontented. I love you, Tara, not just making love to you. Still, I’m glad you’ve finally realised that sex can be enjoyed in lots of different ways. It doesn’t always have to be slow and serious. It can be fast and furious. Or it can just be fun. You had fun tonight, didn’t you?’

Fun. Had it been fun? It had certainly been exciting, and compelling.

‘I…I guess so.’

His smile was wry. ‘Come, now, Tara. You loved it. All of it. Don’t deny it.’

‘I guess I’m just not used to being so wicked.’

‘Wicked!’ Max exclaimed, laughing. ‘We weren’t wicked. A little naughty perhaps. But not wicked. I could show you wicked later tonight, if you’d like.’

‘What…what do you mean? Doing what?’

‘I’ve always wanted to put those cords around my bed to far better use than tying back the curtains.’

Tara tried to feel scandalised. Instead, curiosity claimed her. What would it feel like for Max to tie her to the bed, to render her incapable of stopping him from looking at her all over, and touching her all over?

Just thinking about it gave her a hint as to what it would actually feel like. Wicked.

Heat filled her face. And the rest of her.

‘I can see that’s a bit of a leap for you,’ Max said wryly. ‘Forget I mentioned it.’

But how could she forget? He’d put the image into her mind. She would never be able to look at that bed now without thinking of herself bound to the bedposts!

The lift doors opened. When she stood there, still in a daze, Max took her hand and pulled her into the lift.

‘Come along, princess, stop the daydreaming. We have to go down and eat. We’re already a quarter of an hour late, courtesy of your keeping me in the shower longer than I intended.’

‘Me keeping you in the shower!’ she gasped. ‘You liar! It was you. You wouldn’t let me get out till I…till I…’

‘Till you’d finished what you started. Yes, I know. Sorry. You’re right. I got a bit carried away. But I didn’t hear you objecting.’

‘I could hardly speak at the time,’ she countered with a defiant glower.

He laughed. ‘That’s the girl. Give it back to me. That’s what I want from you always, Tara. Lots of fire and spirit. I’m never at my best around yes people.’

‘That’s rubbish, Max, and you know it. You love yes people. I hear you on the phone all the time, giving orders and expecting to be instantly obeyed. You like being the boss, in the bedroom as well as everywhere else! You expect all your lackeys to do exactly what they’re told, when they’re told.’

‘Aah, yes, but you’re not one of my lackeys.’

‘I’m not so sure,’ she snapped. ‘Isn’t a mistress another form of lackey?’

‘Mistress! Good lord, what a delightfully old-fashioned word. But I like it. Mistress,’ he repeated thoughtfully. ‘Yes, you would make me a perfect mistress. Now.’ And with a wicked gleam in his eye, he put her fingers to his lips once more.

Tara pulled her hand away. She might have hit him if the lift doors hadn’t opened at that moment.

A brunette was standing there, waiting for the lift. A strikingly attractive brunette with big brown eyes, eyes which grew bigger when they saw Max, then narrowed as they shifted over to Tara.

Max’s fingers tightened around Tara’s.

‘Hello, Max,’ the brunette said first. ‘Long time, no see.’

‘Indeed,’ Max replied, but said no more.

Tara could feel the tension gripping all of Max’s body through his hand. No, not tension. Hostility. He hated this woman, for whatever reason. Why? Had he loved her once?

Tara stared at the brunette more closely, trying to guess her age for one thing. Impossible to tell accurately. Maybe mid-to late-twenties. She had the sleek look of the very rich, which meant she might be older. Weekly visits to beauty salons could hold back the hands of time. Her face was clear of wrinkles and superbly made up. But her shoulder-length, shiny dark-brown hair was her crowning glory, framing her face in a layered bob with not a single strand out of place.

She made Tara conscious of her own hair, which was scraped back from her face and pulled up high on her head into a tight knot, the only style she could manage in the small amount of time Max had given her to get ready. Less than fifteen minutes earlier, her whole head had been sopping wet.

‘You’re looking well,’ the brunette addressed to Max.

‘If you’ll excuse us, Alicia,’ Max said. ‘We are already late for our dinner reservation.’ And he ushered Tara away, stunning Tara with his rudeness. Ever since she’d met Max, she’d never known him to act like that with anyone.

Tara did not glance back, or say a word during the short walk from the lift to the restaurant. She remained discretely silent whilst the maître d’ greeted them, then instructed their personal waiter—a good-looking young guy named Jarod—to show them to their table.

It was a very special table, reserved for special occasions and people who wanted total privacy from the other diners. Set in a back corner of the restaurant, the candlelit table was housed in a tiny room, which was dimly lit and very atmospheric.

The first time Max had brought her here, she’d thought it was so romantic. Subsequent visits had been just as romantic. Tonight, however, the encounter with the brunette had turned Tara’s mind away from romance. Unless one could consider jealousy an element of romance. Max could say what he liked but the way that woman had looked at him—just for a moment—had been with the eyes of a woman who’d been more than a passing acquaintance, or an employee.

As the minutes dragged on—Max was spending an inordinate amount of time studying the drinks menu—her agitation increased. By the time the waiter departed and the opportunity presented itself to ask him about the infernal woman, Tara feared she was going to put her questions all wrong. She dithered over what to actually say.

‘There’s no need to be jealous,’ Max pronounced abruptly. ‘Alicia was Stevie’s girlfriend, not mine.’

‘I wasn’t jealous,’ Tara lied with a lift of her chin. ‘Just bewildered by your rudeness. So what did this Alicia do to Stevie to make you hate her so much?’

‘The moment my brother was diagnosed with testicular cancer, Alicia dumped him like a shot. Said she couldn’t cope.’

Tara was stunned to see Max’s hands tremble as he raked them through his hair.

‘My God, she couldn’t cope,’ he growled. ‘How did she think Stevie was going to cope when the girl he loved—and who he thought loved him—didn’t stand by him through his illness? I blame her entirely for his treatment being unsuccessful. When she left him, he lost the will to live.’

‘But I thought…’

‘Yes, yes, I blame my father, too. But Alicia even more so. At least Dad never pretended a devotion to Stevie. When he didn’t come home to be by his dying son’s bedside, it wasn’t such a shock. Not to Stevie, anyway. He told me just days before he died that Dad didn’t love him the way he loved me.’ Max’s deeply set blue eyes looked haunted. ‘God, Tara, do you know how I felt when he said that? Stevie, who was such a good boy, who’d never hurt anyone in his life. How could any father not love him more than me? I wasn’t a patch on my little brother.’

Tara frowned. Max had told her ages ago about the circumstances surrounding his younger brother’s tragic death. Yet he’d never mentioned Stevie’s girlfriend’s part in it.

‘Why didn’t you tell me about Alicia, Max? You told me what your father did.’

‘I don’t like to talk about Stevie. I told you as much as I had to, to explain why I didn’t invite you home to visit my parents, especially last Christmas. Alicia was irrelevant to that explanation,’ he finished brusquely. ‘Aah, here’s the champagne.’

Tara wasn’t totally satisfied with Max’s explanation but stayed silent whilst the waiter opened the bottle, poured them both a glass then finally departed after Max told him to return in ten minutes for their meal order.

‘It’s not like you to order champagne,’ she said as she took a sip. Max usually ordered red wine.

‘I thought we would share a bottle. To celebrate the anniversary of our meeting. It was a year ago today that I walked into Whitmore’s. Of course, it was a Friday not a Saturday, but the date’s spot-on.’

‘Oh, Max, how sweet of you to remember!’

‘I’m a sweet guy.’

Tara smiled. ‘You can be. Obviously. But I wouldn’t say sweetness is one of your best-known attributes.’

‘No?’ He smiled across the table, reminding her for the second time that night how very handsome he was. ‘So what is my best-known attribute?’

She couldn’t help it. She blushed.

Max laughed. ‘I will take that as a compliment. Although you’ve hardly been able to compare, since I’m your one and only lover. At least, I presume I am. Though maybe not for long, after today.’

‘What on earth do you mean by that?’

‘Maybe you’ll want to fly to other places. Experience other men.’

Tara stared at him. ‘You don’t know me very well if you think that. What happened earlier, Max, is because I love you deeply and trust you totally. I could never be like that with some other man. I would just die of embarrassment and shame.’

His eyes softened on her. ‘You really mean that, don’t you?’

‘Of course I do!’

He shook his head. ‘You’re one in a million, Tara. There truly aren’t many women like you out there for men like me. True love is a luxury not often enjoyed by the rich and famous. Our attractiveness lies in our bank balances, not our selves.’

‘I don’t believe that. You’re far too cynical, Max.’

‘I’ve met far too many Alicias not to be cynical. Do you know that within six months of telling Stevie she loved him but couldn’t cope, she’d married another heir to a fortune? Then, when she’d divorced that sucker twelve months later, she even had the temerity to make a line for me one night when our paths crossed.’

‘And?’

‘And what?’

‘Don’t take me for a total fool, Max. Something happened between you two. I felt it.’

He sighed. ‘You feel too much sometimes. OK, so I was in a vengeful mood that night. When Alicia started coming on to me, I played along with it. When I suggested leaving the party we were attending she jumped at the chance, even though she’d come with someone else. I took her to a club, where we drank and danced.’

Danced! Tara’s stomach crunched down hard at the mere thought of another woman in her Max’s arms. She knew it was before they’d met, but still…

‘I waited for her to make her excuses about Stevie,’ Max continued as he twisted his champagne glass round and round. ‘I knew she would. But what she said really floored me. She told me that she’d only dated Stevie to be near me. She told me that she’d never really loved my brother. It was me she’d loved all along. She claimed she only married that other man because she thought she had no chance with me. I told her what I thought of her and her so-called love and walked out.’

Tara never said a word, because she suspected that what the woman had said might be true. She’d seen a photograph of Stevie and whilst he had been a nice-looking boy, his face had lacked Max’s strength and charisma.

‘Love is just a weapon to such women,’ Max added testily. ‘My own mother pretends she still loves my father, despite his having been a neglectful husband, as well as a neglectful father. Why? Because it would probably cost too much money to divorce him. I overheard her tell a lady friend once that she knew about Dad’s womanising ways, but turned a blind eye. Even now that he’s in a wheelchair, a wretched wreck of a man, she stays with him, catering to his every need. They’re as bad as each other, bound together by their greed and their lack of moral fibre. That’s why I have as little as possible to do with them these days. Both of them make me sick.’

Tara was stunned by his outburst, and the depth of his bitterness. Bitterness was never good for anyone’s soul. Neither was revenge. It was very self-destructive.

‘But you could be wrong, Max,’ she ventured quietly. ‘Your mother might very well love your father. There might be things you don’t know. We rarely know what goes on inside a marriage. I found that out last weekend. I always thought my sister was unhappy in her marriage. She fell pregnant, you see, during her last year at school. Dale wasn’t much older, and still doing his plumbing apprenticeship. They got married, with Jen thinking she could finish her schooling. But she was too sick during her pregnancy to study. Then, when her first baby was barely six months old, she fell pregnant again. She’s always complaining about her life, and her husband. She says he spends too much time and money drinking with his mates. But when I asked her why she didn’t leave him and get a divorce, she looked at me as though I was mad. Told me she was very happy with Dale and would never dream of getting a divorce. So maybe you’re wrong, Max. It is possible, you know,’ she added with a wry little smile.

He smiled back. ‘Possible. But not probable. Look, let’s not spoil tonight with such talk. Let’s just eat some wonderful food together and drink this wonderful champagne. I want to get you delightfully tipsy so that I can take you back upstairs and have my truly wicked way with you.’

Although Tara’s stomach flipped at the prospect, she stayed calm on the surface, suspecting that Max was watching her for her reaction. As much as she was curious, she wasn’t sure if the reality would be as exciting as the fantasy. And even if it was, what about the consequences? Did she really want Max thinking she would do anything he asked? What next?

‘You think that’s the answer to my co-operation?’ she asked coolly. ‘Getting me drunk?’

‘Is it?’

‘I hope not.’

‘Then how about this?’ And he extracted a small gold velvet box from his pocket.

Tara stared at the ring-sized box.

An engagement ring. He’d bought her an engagement ring. He was going to ask her to marry him!

The shot of adrenalin which instantly charged through her bloodstream made a mockery of her denial to her mother that marriage to Max was not what she wanted at this moment in her life.

Clearly, her body knew things which her brain did not.

‘Go on,’ he said, and reached over to put the gold box on the white tablecloth in front of her. ‘Open it.’

Something about the scenario suddenly didn’t fit Tara’s image of how a man like Max would ask her to marry him. It was all far too casual. He was far too casual.

She sucked in a deep breath, then let it out slowly, gathering herself before opening the box. When she did, and her eyes fell upon a huge topaz dress ring, she was ready to react as she was sure Max expected her to react, with seeming pleasure and gratitude.

‘Oh, Max, it’s lovely! Thank you so much.’

‘I knew it would match that dress. That’s why I wanted you to wear it tonight. Go on,’ he said eagerly. ‘Put it on. See if it fits.’

She slipped it on the middle finger of her right hand.

‘Perfect,’ she said, and held it out to show him. The diamond-cut stone sparkled under the candlelight. ‘But you really shouldn’t have, Max. You make me feel guilty that I didn’t buy you anything. I had no idea you were such a romantic.’

‘I think I’m catching the disease from you.’

‘I don’t know why you keep calling me a romantic.’

‘When a girl of your looks reaches twenty-four still a virgin then I know she’s a romantic.’

‘Maybe. Maybe not. I consider myself more of an idealist. I didn’t want to have sex till I really wanted it. I wasn’t waiting for love to strike so much as passion. Which it did. With you. I didn’t realise I was in love with you till the following morning. How long did it take till you realised you loved me?’

‘The moment you smiled at me in that shop I was a goner.’

‘Oh, Max, now who’s being the romantic?’

He smiled. ‘Aah, here comes Jarod to take our order. Let me order for you tonight, darling. Now that you’re breaking out in other ways, I think it’s time you tried some different foods.’

‘If you insist.’

He grinned. ‘I insist.’

Tara sat back and sipped her champagne whilst Max went to town with their meal order. He’d always liked ordering the rarest and most exotic foods on the menu for himself.

Clearly, Max was happier now with her than ever. Tara glanced down at the topaz ring and told herself it had been silly of her to want it to be an engagement ring.

Max was right. She was a romantic.

‘You don’t like it,’ Max said.

Tara glanced up to see that Jarod had departed and Max was looking at her with a worried frown.

‘Of course I do,’ she said with a quick smile. ‘It’s gorgeous.’

‘So what were you thinking about that made you look so wistful?’

She shrugged. ‘I guess I’d like to spend more time with the wonderful man who gave it to me.’

‘Your wish is my command, my darling. How would you like to quit that job of yours and come with me when I go overseas?’

Tara’s mouth dropped open.

‘I take it that stunned look on your face means a yes?’

‘I…I…Yes. Yes, of course. But Max, are you sure?’

‘I wouldn’t have asked you if I wasn’t sure.’

So why haven’t you asked me this before now?

The question zoomed into her mind like an annoying bee, buzzing around in her brain, searching for the truth. What had changed in their relationship that he suddenly wanted her with him all the time?

Tara hated the answer that would not be denied.

The sex. The sex between them had changed.

‘Why now, Max?’ she couldn’t stop herself asking whilst her stomach had tightened into a knot.

He shrugged. ‘Do you want the truth? Or romantic bulldust?’

‘Romantic bulldust, of course.’

He laughed. ‘OK. I love you. I love you so much that I can no longer stand leaving you behind when I go away. I want you with me, every day. I want you in my bed, every night. How’s that?’

‘Pretty good. Now how about the truth?’

Max looked at her and knew he would never tell her the truth, which was that he was afraid of losing her if he left her behind. He suspected she had never felt anything like she’d felt with him today. How, now, could he expect her to patiently wait for him to come home? She might not actively look for other lovers, but men would always pursue Tara…

‘The truth,’ he repeated, doing his best to look in command of the situation. ‘The truth is I love you, Tara. I love you so much I can’t stand the thought of leaving you behind when I go away. I want you with me, every day. I want you in my bed, every night.’

And wasn’t that the truth!

Tara tried not to burst into tears. She had a feeling that sobbing all over the place was not what Max wanted in a mistress. Because of course, if she did this, if she quit her job and let Max pay for everything whilst she travelled with him, that was what she would be. Possibly, that was all she would ever be. There was no guarantee their relationship would end in marriage, no matter how much Max said he loved her.

Still, there’d never been any guarantees of that. He’d never given her any. And he wasn’t giving her any now.

Tara thought of what her mother had said about how he would never give her what she wanted. Once again, she tried to pin down in her mind what she actually wanted from Max at this stage in her life. That ring business had rocked her a bit. Suddenly, she wasn’t at all sure. The only thing she was sure of was that she didn’t want to lose Max. Now more than ever.

‘I’ll have to give Whitmore’s two weeks’ notice,’ she said, her voice on the suddenly breathless side. Her heart was racing madly and her mouth had gone dry. ‘I can’t just leave them in the lurch. February is top tourist season for the Japanese.’

‘Fine. But what about next weekend? I have to go back to Auckland, negotiate with some owners there about a hotel. If I arrange plane tickets for you, would you join me there?’

‘I wouldn’t be able to leave till the Saturday morning. We’d only have the one night together.’

‘Better than nothing,’ he said, blue eyes gleaming in the candlelight.

‘Yes,’ she agreed, a tremor ripping down her spine. By next Saturday, her body would be screaming for him.

She picked up her glass and took a decent swallow, aware that he was watching her closely.

‘Are you all right, Tara?’ he asked, softly but knowingly, she thought.

‘No,’ she returned sharply. ‘No, I’m not. And it’s all your fault. I feel like a cat on a hot tin roof.’

‘Aaah.’

There was a wealth of satisfaction—and knowledge—in that aaah.

‘Would you like me to have our meals sent up to the penthouse?’

Tara blinked, then stared at him. If she blindly said yes, it would be the end of her. She would be his in whatever way he wanted her. There would be no further questioning over what she wanted, because what she wanted would be what he wanted.

But how could she say no when she wanted it too? To be his. To let him take her back into that world he had shown her today, that dizzying, dazzling world where sensation was heaped upon sensation, where giving pleasure was as satisfying as receiving it, where the mind was set free of worry and all its focus was centred on the physical.

‘Can we take the champagne too?’ she heard herself saying, shocked to the core at how cool her voice sounded.

‘Absolutely.’ Max was already on his feet.

‘Will you still respect me in the morning?’ she said with a degree of self-mockery as he walked round the table towards her.

Placing one hand under her chin, he tipped up her face for a kiss which was cruel in its restraint.

He’s teasing me, she realised. Giving me a taste of what’s to come.

‘Tell me you love me,’ he murmured when his mouth lifted.

‘I love you.’

‘Let’s go.’