Читать книгу More Than A Mistress - Сандра Мартон, Sandra Marton - Страница 8

THE bang of the gavel echoed through the ballroom, but it wasn’t as loud as the sudden thump of Alexandra Thorpe’s heart.

“Sold,” the auctioneer shouted. “Sold to the lady in red.”

The lady in red, she thought numbly…

Alex thought, for an instant, her legs would buckle. She bowed her head and gripped the chair in front of her. She’d come here to buy a man, and she had. A man named Travis Baron.

A stud named Travis Baron, a little voice inside her said coldly. It was true. The man onstage was every inch a stud, if looks and attitude were anything to go by…

And now, she owned him.

Why on earth had she done something so stupid? Carl’s words had hurt, yes, but so what? Their divorce was two years old. She didn’t miss Carl, or love him; she knew now that she never really had. So, why should anything he said, anything, still haunt her? And the rest of her plan, if you could call it that, was not just stupid but sick. A woman didn’t just—a woman couldn’t just—

Awareness sizzled thought her blood.

He was looking at her. Every nerve ending in her body was screaming it.

Don’t, Alex told herself, don’t lift your head….

Stopping the rotation of the planet would have been easier. Alex caught her bottom lip between her teeth and slowly raised her eyes to the stage.

Her heart did it again, just as it had when he’d first looked at her. It took that leap within her breast that made the room spin. Travis Baron hadn’t moved. Those hot green eyes were still fixed on her as if he was a hawk and she was his prey. There was a smile of pure masculine satisfaction, tilting across his mouth—that sensual mouth—she could almost feel on her own. Everything about him, from the set of his broad shoulders, the way he stood, with his long legs planted slightly apart, sent a message, and the message was unmistakable.

I am a man, he was saying. And you are a woman. And when you and I are alone…

Panic whispered along Alex’s skin. She would never be alone with this man, or with any other. She had learned that much from her marriage. Forgetting that lesson, tonight, had been an aberration, a foolish reaction to an overheard whisper that had called back painful memories.

What did she give a damn, if Carl had told his new wife she was frigid? Let him say what he liked, so long as he was no longer saying it to her.

Alex tore her gaze from Travis Baron’s. People were crowding around her, offering congratulations.

“What will you do with that gorgeous hunk for an entire weekend?” a woman said, and a roar of laughter went up.

She knew it was only a joke. The auction was a legitimate fund-raiser. What the winners did with their bachelors was play tennis, or golf, go dancing or to dinner…

Except, that wasn’t what she’d intended to do with him.

The thought was enough to send another wave of panic rolling through her blood. Alex smiled. She hoped she smiled, anyway, and laughed, and said she’d think of something…

With the laughter still ringing in her ears, she fled up the aisle toward the double doors that led to the lobby, and to sanity.

“Mrs. Stuart?”

Just keep walking, Alex. Smile, and keep…

“Mrs. Stuart.” A hand clasped her arm.

Alex shook off the hand. “No,” she said…and looked into the puzzled face of a gray-haired woman.

“I’m terribly sorry, Mrs. Stuart. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Alex swallowed, pulled her lips into another parody of a smile. “I’m sorry. I don’t—”

The woman smiled, too, and looped her arm through Alex’s. “We’ve met before, Mrs. Stuart. Perhaps you’ll recall? I’m Barbara Rhodes. Our husbands served on the water conservation committee together.”

“My ex-husband,” Alex said. “I use my maiden name. I’m Alexandra Thorpe now.”

The woman winced. “Yes, of course. Sorry. I’d forgotten.”

“That’s quite all right. Now, if you’ll excuse me…”

“Oh, I know you’re in a hurry to pay for your purchase.”

“My purchase,” Alex said, and felt the color shoot into her face.

“Yes. We’ve set up a desk, in the lobby.” The woman led Alex toward the double doors. “But I wanted to take a moment to thank you, personally, for making tonight’s high bid.”

“Ah.” Alex smiled again and wondered if it were possible for your lips to stick to your teeth. “No need,” she said brightly. “I’m more than happy to—help out.”

“If only everyone felt that way. But let me tell you, Ms. Thorpe, they don’t. As chairperson of the auction these last two years, I know how rarely people make such generous donations.”

“Yes.” Someone batted the doors open and Alex and the chairperson stepped through them. “Well, I know—I know what fine work your organization does, Mrs. Rhodes…”

“Have you decided what you’ll do with your bachelor, Ms. Thorpe?”

Alex swallowed dryly. “No. No, I…Actually, I doubt if I’ll, ah, if I’ll use him at all, Mrs. Rhodes. I, uh, I already have plans for the weekend.”

“Oh, that’s too bad.”

“Yes, it is, isn’t it?” Alex came to a stop, opened her beaded purse and dug inside it. “Look, why don’t we do this right now? I’ll make out a check, give it to you—”

“Well, you’re supposed to pay at the desk…Oh, never mind. I’m happy to make an accommodation for you.”

Alex took out her checkbook. “The Children’s Hospital Fund, right?” Her hands were trembling. Could she write out the check and sign it so it was legible? She scrawled the name of the fund and the amount she’d bid—the incredible amount she’d bid, for a man she could only pray she’d never see again—signed her name, ripped out the check and handed it to the chairwoman, who beamed happily and clutched it to her ample breasts.

“Wonderful, Ms. Thorpe. And now…”

“And now,” Alex said with false gaiety, “I’ll just be on my way.”

“Certainly. But first, if we could just prevail upon you to stay for a few pictures, while you dance with Mr. Baron. For publicity purposes, you understand.”

Alex shook her head. “No! I mean, I just explained, I have plans…”

“For the weekend. Yes, but this will only take a few minutes.” The woman took Alex’s arm. “Do you know anything about him?”

“Not a thing,” Alex said briskly.

“Oh, he’s a fascinating man. So handsome! And those cowboy boots…” The chairwoman sighed. “Oh, if I were only twenty years younger. Unmarried. Well, and forty pounds lighter…”

She laughed gaily, and Alex tried to do the same.

“It will only take a minute, Ms. Thorpe.” She beamed a happy smile in Alex’s direction. “The TV people are here. If you and your bachelor could give them a few pictures. And a short interview? It would be wonderful publicity for the auction.”

“He’s not ‘my’ bachelor,” Alex said, rushing the words together. “You don’t understand, Mrs. Rhodes. I’ve no time to do any of this. Really, I can’t…”

“But you can, Ms. Thorpe,” a deep voice said. “And you will.”

Alex froze. The tempo of her heartbeat increased to something a rock-and-roll drummer would have envied. She took a quick step back and knew, too late, that she’d made yet another mistake because stepping back brought her into contact with the hard, male body that belonged to the voice.

Barbara Rhodes’s eyebrows flew toward her hairline, and Alex knew her fear must have shown in her face. So she took a deep breath, gave a wobbly smile and said, “Oh, dear, I can see that I’m trapped.” And then, still smiling, still feeling the race of her pulse in her throat, she turned and looked up into the face of Travis Baron.

“Hello, Sugar,” he said softly, and smiled.

Onstage, he’d looked handsome and masculine. But up close—up close…

Alex’s heartbeat ratcheted up another notch.

Up close, he was spectacular.

Tall. Tall enough so even she, at five-eight in her stocking feet, had to tilt her head back to look up to him, and she’d worn ridiculously high heels tonight, to go with the equally ridiculous dress. Tall, and gorgeous, with those hot eyes. And a nose that surely had once been broken. And that mouth. That sexy, almost cruel mouth.

Mrs. Rhodes was right. The man she’d won was handsome. He was gorgeous. He was the fulfillment of every wild, middle-of-the-night dream she’d ever had, in the long-ago days when she’d still been foolish enough to dream.

And he was dangerous. Even she could tell that.

What were you thinking tonight, Alexandra?

The chairwoman looked from Alex to Travis, and then she let out a girlish laugh. “Well. I can see I’m not needed anymore.”

“No,” Travis said bluntly, his eyes never leaving Alexandra Thorpe’s. “No, you’re not.”

“My.” Mrs. Rhodes fanned her face with Alex’s check. “My, oh my. Uh, thank you again, Mrs….Ms. Thorpe. And thank you, too, Mr. Baron. If you need anything, anything at all…”

Travis reached out, took Alex’s arm and drew her away from the chairwoman.

“Which is it?” he said.

Alex blinked. “I—I beg your pardon?”

“She called you Mrs. Then she called you Ms.”

His hand tightened on her arm. Alex looked down, saw the darkness of his fingers against the paleness of her skin. And forced herself to take a deep, deep breath.

“It’s…” Lie. Tell him you’re married. Tell him anything. Just get away. Get away, while you can…“It’s…” Her eyes met his. “If I said it was Mrs. would you go away?”

He smiled. The smile made his mouth tilt and his eyes get even darker. Most of all, it made her stomach drop toward her toes.

“Not until you introduced me to your husband, so I could see for myself what kind of man would be stupid enough to leave a woman like you so unsatisfied that she’d look at a stranger with so much hunger.”

Color flooded Alex’s cheeks. “Mr. Baron—”

“Are you married, or aren’t you?”

“I’m divorced. And if you think I looked—that I looked…”

“I don’t think, Sugar. I know.”

Travis slid his hand down her arm, to her wrist. He’d thought of all the things he’d say to this woman as he’d battled his way through the crowd toward her. Subtle things. Soft things. How beautiful she was. What he’d felt at the sight of her. But standing close to her, with the scent of her in his nostrils and the silken feel of her skin under his fingertips, he’d suddenly known that there was no reason to be subtle, or cautious. He was on fire, and so was she, and he’d be damned if he’d play games.

“You need me,” he said, very softly. “And I need you. And I promise you, we’ll satisfy our needs before this night ends.”

His words should have shocked her. Instead, they excited her. Alex felt her body turning molten with heat. His voice was like warm, heavy cream, pouring over her, through her. She looked into those deep green eyes and thought, yes, he could do that for me, he could…

Alex, the little voice within her said sharply, whatever are you thinking?

Carefully, politely, she disengaged her hand from his.

“I’m sure that line works wonderfully wherever it is you come from, Mr. Baron.”

Travis’s eyes narrowed. “Is that what you think that was?”

“And an interesting one, I must admit.” Generations of good breeding, coupled with four years as Carl Stuart’s wife, made it possible to offer a cool smile. “But I’m afraid you’ve misread the situation.”

“You’re lying,” he said bluntly.

Alex gave a trilling laugh. “I’ll try not to take offense at that, Mr. Baron. Perhaps such comments are acceptable, in your part of the world.”

“That’s the second time you’ve made that reference.” Travis folded his arms and rocked back on his boot heels. “Is that the problem here? That you’re figuring me for a cowboy, and ladies like you don’t sleep with the hired help?”

Alex flushed. “If you’re trying to be obnoxious, Mr. Baron, let me assure you, you’re succeeding.”

“I’m being honest, Ms. Thorpe. Which is more than you’re doing.”

“Mr. Baron. I am, truly, sorry if you’ve misunderstood the purpose of the auction. It’s a charitable event. And I support a great many charities. I’ve already given the chairwoman my check. And now I’ve had the—” she paused, almost imperceptibly “—the pleasure of meeting you, sir.”

His eyes narrowed. Later, she’d remember that and realize it had been a warning. But right then, analytical thinking was beyond her. All she could think of was escape.

“What you’re sayin’, Ms. Thorpe, is that you’re givin’ me the brush-off.”

His voice had softened, picked up the faintest drawl. Well, that explained a lot. Cowboy, ranch hand, whatever. She’d missed the description of him, and she hadn’t seen the auction catalog, but it didn’t matter. She’d figured him right. He wasn’t from around here. The auction committee had probably recruited him from a modeling agency, or maybe from Actors’ Equity. Los Angeles was filled with men like him, men who’d come here with dreams of stardom.

Wherever he came from, he was accustomed to a macho swagger. It might help him make the cover of GQ. It would probably gain him admittance to a lot of L.A. bedrooms, but—

But not hers.

Her behavior back in the ballroom, all that thunder and lightning that had seemed to flash between them, had been the result of remembering how Carl had humiliated her. How even now, with him out of her life, he could still humiliate and infuriate her. Even hurt her.

It had nothing to do with Travis Baron, who was too handsome for his own good, and too untamed for hers.

“Am I right, Ms. Thorpe? Am I gettin’ the old heave-ho?”

Alex tilted her head and looked at him with polite interest. A cowboy, and with a dented ego.

Ah, how quickly things had changed.

This was her turf, not his. Too bad he’d learn it the hard way. Too bad she’d come close to forgetting it. She was Alex Thorpe. Buying a man, indeed. Thinking she’d take him to her bed, and for what? To prove something to an ex-husband she didn’t give a damn about? She had nothing to prove to anyone, certainly not to herself.

All right, so she’d come rushing to the auction in a mood that was foolish and potentially dangerous. And yes, she’d done a dumb thing, making that bid. But she’d almost done something even more foolish, fleeing. People would talk about her bid for days. Weeks, maybe, until some better bit of gossip came along. Did she want them to also talk about the way she’d run out of the hotel?

She knew what she had to do.

Play out the game. Coolly, with sophistication. A touch of wry humor would be nice. Make it obvious that she’d bid on this man for fun, that she’d done it because she’d wanted to do it, not because of anything more personal.

And not because of the way she’d suddenly felt—suddenly imagined she’d felt—when Travis Baron’s eyes had met hers.

The ballroom had emptied out. Those people who’d attended the auction were standing around the lobby in little knots, shooting glances at the two of them with barely concealed interest.

Well, she’d give them something to watch, but not something to remember.

Alex looked up. The cowboy hadn’t taken his eyes off her. His expression was still intent. Beyond that, she couldn’t read him at all. That troubled her a little, but not much. The balance of power had shifted. She had the upper hand now, and if there was one thing she knew how to do, it was how to use power.

“I’m not giving you the brush-off, Mr. Baron.” She lifted her arm, her brows drawing together as she glanced at the tiny gold-and-diamond watch on her wrist. “I do have another appointment. But—”

“Break it.”

She laughed gaily, as if he’d made a joke. “Oh, I can’t possibly do that. But I do understand my obligations.” Still smiling, she lay her hand lightly on his arm. “If you’d be good enough to lead the way into the room that’s been set aside for the after-auction party, I’ll give you one dance.”

“Give it to me?” he said, very softly.

She heard the edge in those simple words and felt the muscles in his arm bunch beneath her fingers. But she was still riding the heady rush that came of knowing both her feet were back on solid ground, and she heard what he said as she wanted to, as an affirmation of which of them had taken control.

“That’s right. Perhaps I’ll even permit a quick interview.” The sound of music drifted from a nearby doorway and she raised her voice, just a little, to be heard over it. “And then, of course, I’ll be on my way. You do understand, don’t you?”

Oh, yeah, Travis thought, he understood, all right. The Ice Princess had asked him to escort her to the party but it was only a formality. It had been an exercise of privilege and power; how could a man who’d grown up surrounded by such things not recognize it? She was in charge here; the arrogant smile on her face said as much. Without waiting for his reply, she turned and made her way toward the music, confident that he would follow.

A muscle bunched in his jaw. Alexandra Thorpe figured she was playing him for a fool, playing Lady of the Manor to his Bumbling Cowboy. It made him angry as hell, but he wasn’t about to let her know that.

Not yet.

He set off after her, as if he’d accepted the part she’d given him.

None of what was happening surprised him. He’d known something was up, after she’d made the winning bid. He’d seen the look on her lovely face go from wanton desire to disbelief. When she’d turned to flee, he’d started to go after her but the other bachelors had rushed on stage to congratulate him and make jokes at his expense. He’d tried to break free but when he saw Barbara Rhodes stop Alex before she got away, he’d made himself stand still and endure the good-natured banter.

By the time he’d finally broken loose, he’d felt like an over-wound spring.

Peggy, the Slave Mistress, had come running up to him, as he started off the stage.

“You see?” she’d crowed happily. “What did I tell you, handsome? You didn’t have a thing to worry about.”

“What’s her name?” he’d asked, and Peggy must have heard the tightness in his voice because she hadn’t teased him or laughed, she’d simply said she’d asked the same question.

“Alexandra Thorpe.”

“Married? Or single?”

“I don’t know.”

He’d nodded his thanks and begun to turn away when Peggy put her hand on his arm.

“Handsome?”

“Yes?” he’d said, impatiently.

“She’s not for you.”

“Yeah. Thanks for the advice.”

“I’m serious. Remember what I said about her being an Ice Princess?”

Travis had looked squarely at Peggy. “You were wrong.”

“No. No, I wasn’t. Girl who told me the lady’s name said she’s got a freezer where her heart’s supposed to be.”

Travis had smiled. “It’s not the lady’s heart I’m interested in,” he’d said, and then he’d gone down into the crowd, barely acknowledging the slaps on the back and the cheers from Pete Haskell and the other guys he worked with, pushing through everybody until, at last, he’d reached the lobby—and saw Alexandra Thorpe.

She’d still been talking with the chairwoman. Her back was to him, and he’d treated himself to the pleasure of the view. All that golden hair, streaming over her shoulders. The straight, elegant back, naked almost to the base of her spine. The gently rounded bottom, outlined in the silk garnet skirt. And those legs, those endless legs, encased in black hose that tapered down to shoes with heels high enough to make a man’s mouth water.

He’d wondered what he’d find beneath that sinful excuse of a dress, when he took it off her later tonight. A black lace bra, with a matching garter belt? A scrap of silk that might be called a pair of panties?

Travis had felt his body tighten.

Or would there be nothing under that dress except the garter belt, and the sexy stockings?

His fingers itched with the need to find out.

He’d started toward her, then slowed his pace.

Something was wrong. It was in the set of her shoulders, the tilt of her head. He’d looked past the Thorpe woman, to the gray-haired chairwoman. She was smiling but there was no mistaking the earnest look on her face. She was making some sort of pitch.

He got closer, and heard enough to know he was right.

“It will only take a few minutes,” she was saying. “If you and your bachelor could give the TV people a few pictures and a short interview, it would be wonderful publicity for the auction.”

“He’s not ‘my’ bachelor,” Alexandra Thorpe had said. “You don’t understand, Mrs. Rhodes. I’m not staying. Really, I can’t.”

Travis had stepped up behind her and told her that she could stay, that she would stay. For some reason, he’d gone heavy on the Texas drawl that was always just a heartbeat away. “Sugar,” he’d called her, liking the way her eyes flared a little at the name. She’d been off balance, fighting something inside her—and then, suddenly, it had all changed.

It had been like seeing a woman pull a veil over her face. Or a mask. Yeah, that was it. Alexandra Thorpe had disappeared behind a mask, and it wasn’t the first time it had happened tonight. It was just that he’d misread it, before. She hadn’t gone from naked longing to confusion, she’d gone from longing to disbelief. Either she didn’t know she was capable of that kind of desire or she didn’t want to know it. Now, she was covering it with her Lady of the Manor act.

Covering, and she’d blamed him for it.

Instinct, as well as anger, urged him to take her in his arms and kiss that haughty smile from her face. With an arrogance that was more than a match for hers, he knew he could not only make her want him again, but he could make her beg him for the release only he could bring her, once she was in his arms.

Intelligence—what little he had left of it, considering the way his hormones were pumping—warned him that to do so would be a mistake. The thing to do was play along and see where Alexandra Thorpe imagined this would end.

Polite applause sprang up as she led him to the center of the dance floor. Barbara Rhodes must have seen them coming. The orchestra stopped in midbeat, and the chairwoman took hold of the microphone.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I am delighted to give you Ms. Alexandra Thorpe and her prize!”

Laugher, and more applause. Alex smiled and turned toward Travis, but her smile faltered when she saw the way he was looking at her. The orchestra began playing. The music was lush and romantic. Travis reached out and gathered her into his arms.

“Are you a good dancer, Ms. Thorpe?” he said softly. “Do you know how to let your body find the right rhythm?”

“I’m an excellent dancer. But I don’t like to be held so tightly.”

Travis smiled and drew her closer. “You seem stiff in my arms. Is it because you haven’t—” his pause was slow and deliberate “—because you haven’t—danced—enough, lately?”

Alex colored. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Maybe you haven’t had the right man. To dance with, I mean.”

Her color deepened. What pleasure it was, to chip away at that arrogant composure and autocratic veneer.

“I could lead you in steps you’ve only dreamed of, Ms. Thorpe. All you have to do is admit that you want me for your teacher.”

“That’s enough!”

Alex tried to pull back but Travis’s arm tightened around her. “Why did you pay twenty thousand bucks for me, Sugar?” He smiled through his teeth. “Your face is like an open book, Ms. Thorpe. You’re torn between wanting to sock me in the jaw and turning tail and running like a scared rabbit.”

“I never run from anything.” Alex’s voice hummed with fury. “But you’ve certainly got the first part right.”

“Either way, five hundred people are watching us. And there’s a TV camera pointed in our direction. Do you really want to make headlines, Ms. Thorpe?”

“You’re a horrible man!”

“I’m an honest one. You paid a lot of money for me, and it didn’t have a damned thing to do with charity.”

“You overestimate your charm, sir.”

“You paid it so you could go to bed with a man who’d make you feel something. And then you turned chicken.”

Alex stopped moving. Travis did, too. She looked up at him, eyes blazing. “I really, really despise you!”

Travis laughed. “Ah, darlin’, where’s all that hauteur gone to? I know that’s a mighty big word for a cowboy to use but I never said I was a cowboy, Ms. Thorpe. You were the one who decided that.”

The music changed, became a waltz. Travis began moving in time with it. There was no choice. Alexandra began moving, too.

He circled the room with her in his arms, faster and faster, holding her so that her body was pressed to his. Her breasts, her thighs…God, how he wanted her. He could almost feel the heat of her, burning his skin. Yes, hatred blazed in her eyes but he knew women, and desire. And he could see something more in those eyes, besides hatred.

“What are you afraid to admit, Alex?”

His whisper was velvet-soft. Alex felt breathless. How had this happened? How had he taken control?

“I’m not afraid of anything.” Even she could hear the tremor in her voice.

“Then tell me the truth,” he said roughly. “Admit that you want me.”

“I don’t!”

Travis laughed. “Liar,” he said, and whirled her faster and faster.