The Rich Man's Blackmailed Mistress

by Robyn Donald

  She sounded like a wimp, she thought despairingly, not a sophisticated woman who knew how to deal with men of his sort.

  Except that she’d never come across another man with Kain’s particular combination of powerful personality and spectacular good looks.

  ‘I’m sure we can arrange something.’ Coolly he took her elbow and she found herself being shepherded across the room to where Mark stood talking to one of the artists.

  ‘Hey,’ she said, shaking off her unnatural obedience. ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘Saying thank you and goodbye.’ Kain’s voice was implacable, but he gave her a narrow smile that somehow invited complicity. ‘I have excellent manners,’ he told her serenely.

  Amusement bubbled up. ‘Oh, really?’ she parried, adding on a challenging note, ‘Dragging women around by the arm isn’t polite in any etiquette book I’ve ever read.’

  He grinned. Her stomach lurched, and to her chagrin she felt tingles of sensation scud down her spine, ending up as smouldering heat in the pit of her stomach.

  ‘Sometimes brute force is the only way to get what you want,’ he said, and nodded at Mark Russell.

  Mark had already seen them coming towards him, his smile broadening when he recognised Kain.

  What followed was a comedy, Sable thought, one in which she didn’t know her part.

  Kain said easily, ‘Hello, Mark. I’m just about to snaffle Sable.’

  Was that what he’d meant when he referred to brute force? It was about as subtle as a sledgehammer!

  She said stiffly, ‘I don’t think you understand, Kain. I organised this evening—I don’t intend to leave until it’s over.’

  The two men with her exchanged looks. Without missing a beat, Mark said, ‘And you’ve done it brilliantly, but everyone’s going now, and if anything comes up I’ll deal with it. Kain, have you met Tonia Guthrie?’

  The artist, a thin, middle-aged woman with a narrow face and a furrowed forehead, looked irritated, but within a few seconds Kain’s unforced magnetism had won her over so completely that she blurted, ‘You know, I’m wishing I still did figure work! Have you ever posed? That superb bone structure would make for a magnificent portrait.’

  He smiled. ‘No, and I’m afraid I have no interest in having my portrait painted, but I think that’s the nicest compliment I’ve ever had.’

  The woman coloured, then laughed with him, clearly forgiving him for interrupting her talk with Mark.

  Mark smiled benignly at them both. ‘Great to see you here, Kain. Are we going to have your company at the auction?’

  ‘I’m not sure, but there’s always a chance.’

  ‘I hope you can make it. Goodnight, Sable. And take tomorrow morning off—you’ve done a great job here, and you deserve it.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Sable said stiffly, furious with him for having his eyes fixed so firmly on the chance that Kain might buy one of the pictures that he’d sacrifice her.

  Her thoughts were reinforced as they walked out to the door.

  Kain said, ‘Stop steaming, Sable. Your boss sees a mark and naturally he wants to cement some sort of interest. He might run a charitable foundation, but it’s business and he needs the money to spend on the poor and voiceless.’

  Instantly she flared into defence of her boss. ‘It’s very worthwhile—’

  ‘Of course it is.’ He looked down at her. ‘And he’s a damned good hustler.’

  Outside in the sultry heat of an Auckland summer night, Sable ignored his words to say crisply, ‘Tell me what this is all about, please. Is Brent all right?’

  ‘Relax. Knowing Brent, he’ll be enjoying himself very much. I don’t know about you, but I haven’t eaten for about nine hours. Come and have dinner with me.’

  As though in answer her stomach chose just that moment to remind her uncomfortably that she’d only managed to snatch a handful of blueberries for her lunch.

  His lips twitched. ‘I suspected as much. There was something in the way you recommended those mushrooms that indicated a hollow inside you. I live by the Viaduct in a block with an excellent restaurant. Afterwards I’ll take you home—or if it suits you better I’ll order a taxi for you.’

  Several more guests walked past them, their nods and smiles failing entirely to hide keen interest.

  Sable hesitated, then mentally shrugged and gave in to curiosity. In spite of that urgent warning whisper from some primal instinct, eating dinner with him in a restaurant wouldn’t put her in any sort of danger. ‘Thank you—I am hungry.’

  His apartment was in an art deco building that had once been a department store. Overlooking the harbour bridge and the Viaduct basin area with its waterfront restaurants and vibrant nightlife, the store had been rejuvenated with taste and flair—and a lot of money.

  Kain indicated a bank of lifts, so the restaurant was upstairs, presumably to take advantage of the view. Sable noted the clever homage to the building’s age, and more period details graced the foyer once they reached their destination. Eyeing a splendid bronze nymph carrying a torch, she repressed a grin. Tonight’s featured artists would undoubtedly despise it, she thought cheerfully.

  A niggle of apprehension made her tense when Kain took her arm and led her into a room—a large, superbly decorated living room.

  After a swift, incredulous glance around she swung away from him, her face cold and still. ‘This is your apartment,’ she said icily, heading for the door.

  He caught her arm, his fingers gripping just enough to stop her without bruising. ‘Don’t be so skittish. We need privacy.’

  ‘You might—I don’t,’ she shot back, anger sharpening her voice. ‘Let me go right now.’

  ‘Not until you’ve heard what I have to say.’

  CHAPTER THREE

  KAIN caught Sable’s free hand in a steely vice, almost paralysing the fingers that were folding into a serviceable fist. Grimly he said, ‘Stop that right now. I’m not going to leap on you.’

  His grip tightened a fraction, warning her not to pull away. Like enemies they stared at each other, dark eyes clashing with arctic grey, neither giving an inch.

  Sable tried to concentrate on leaving. Right now. But all she could think of was Kain’s nearness, the way he’d pulled her closer—so close her nostrils quivered at the faint, sexy smell that was his alone.

  Although his gaze was flinty, she saw heat kindle in its depths, and shivered at the basic feminine knowledge that told her he wanted her.

  She should be terrified.

  Instead she felt a flare of wild exultation and had to fight a crazy impulse to take a step towards him—near enough to rest her head on his shoulder and feel the strength of his chest against her sensitised breasts.

  Her body ached with keen, tantalising frustration and her lips felt hot and tender. She caught her breath and forced herself to say bleakly, ‘Let me go.’

  Kain released her. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said with curt brusqueness. ‘That was unforgivable. I don’t usually manhandle women.’

  Her glare tried for contempt, but didn’t quite make it beyond resentment. ‘I’d hardly call it manhandling,’ she said reluctantly.

  Kain noticed less of her normal crispness in her tone, and he knew that the flash of hunger he’d seen in those mysterious eyes had been authentic.

  And she, in her turn, had discerned his fierce response to her.

  Sable’s satiny skin invited a man’s touch, and the red lips hinted at a recklessness that made him think of tangled sheets and long, long nights…

  But what the hell was going on behind those steady, unreadable eyes? She was a very cool customer indeed, sexily chic in the sleek outfit of black and red that matched her hair and lips.

  A stray, unwanted thought increased his annoyance at his unusual susceptibility.

  What colour was the soft mouth beneath the gloss of lipstick? And when she creamed away the colour each night did all that controlled passion go with it?

  Ignoring the unsubtle clamour
in his body, he told her bluntly, ‘If you really want to leave I’ll organise a taxi for you.’

  Somehow reassured by that—and thrilled in some primitively unregenerate part of her because for a moment she’d glimpsed the man behind the intimidating authority—Sable said, ‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, tell me what this is all about.’

  One black brow rose. ‘I will, but I’d like you to stay; I did promise to feed you, after all.’ And he smiled.

  Walk into my parlour, said the spider…

  Sable blinked to keep her head from spinning. That wicked smile was wielded like a sword; he knew exactly how to disarm a woman.

  If she had any sense at all she’d go.

  An unusual recklessness persuaded her to say, ‘First I’d like to know why you brought me here.’

  And held her breath for his answer.

  ‘Are you always this suspicious about being asked out to dinner?’ Kain asked, his voice amused. Then his tone altered, and his broad shoulders lifted in a slight shrug. ‘You looked pale and a little tired; I thought food was in order.’

  Sable ignored the first question. ‘I’m always pale—it’s my natural colouring.’

  ‘How are your iron levels?’

  Her head came up with a jerk. Was he teasing? Yes, he was smiling. Coolly she said, ‘They’re fine, thank you.’

  ‘Good.’ He turned. ‘I’ll get a menu for you to look at.’

  Sable glowered at his retreating back; effortlessly, with an authority that came from inner strength, Kain Gerard dominated every space he was in. He had that magical thing called charisma, the star quality that made everyone notice him.

  OK, so his stunning good looks would automatically attract attention from women, but that compelling magnetism was based on his personality, not on his looks. He looked competent to the nth degree, as though he could deal with anything.

  She envied him that inbuilt confidence; her own had been hard-won and was still precarious.

  Did he take that constant attention and respect—the inviting, fascinated glances from women—for granted?

  He’d be hell to love. There’d always be other women…

  Embarrassed by the trend of her thoughts, she got to her feet and was turning towards the door when that tell-tale prickle at the back of her neck warned her he’d returned.

  ‘Retreat, Sable?’ His smile was idly mocking.

  Feeling foolish, she said, ‘No.’

  After all, instinct told her that she didn’t have to worry about her physical safety. Her emotional safety might be something else, but one meal wasn’t going to overturn her life.

  He held out a menu. ‘Choose what you want for dinner, and when you’ve done that there’s something you might like to see.’

  ‘What?’ Although she accepted the menu, she stayed stubbornly in place.

  He touched a switch and the curtains glided back to reveal a terrace; she noted the satin gleam of a lap pool and the shimmering ebony curtain of water that fell into it.

  ‘Look,’ he said, indicating.

  Sable gasped and walked across to stand beside him.

  ‘It’s one of the big cruise liners going out,’ he told her. ‘She’s on her last voyage and this is her tribute to Auckland.’

  ‘It could be a picture out of a fairytale.’ Her voice was soft and wondering. Startled by her delight at the sight of the huge thing slipping silently down the harbour, decked with lights like a huge Christmas tree, she firmed her tone. ‘A sight like that brings out the child in me.’

  ‘How old are you?’

  After a moment’s hesitation she admitted, ‘Twenty-six.’

  ‘Six years younger than I am.’ Together they watched the graceful relic of a more leisured age slide across the inky waters. ‘Five thousand years of so-called civilisation haven’t changed our basic natures. At heart we’re the same as those ancestors who huddled around a fire for protection, and in all societies light means safety and security. Now, check that menu while I pour you a drink. Non-alcoholic, if you’d prefer it,’ he added deadpan when she turned to refuse it.

  Something equivocal in his tone alerted her, summoning instincts she’d long forgotten. Had he heard something about her father’s addiction? Lightly she said, ‘Actually, if you have it, a glass of lime and soda water would be wonderful.’

  He produced that and handed it to her, waiting while she rapidly chose a dish. Then he left her again to deliver the order; she could hear his voice in the distance on the telephone. After a tiny sip of the refreshing drink she set the glass down on a table and looked around the room.

  The penthouse wasn’t anything like Brent’s minimalist, decorator-driven apartment. Kain had clearly had input into the furnishings; its restrained luxury and strong lines fitted him.

  He was frowning when he came back, a frown that deepened when she picked up her glass and held it in front of her like a pathetic shield. ‘Come out onto the terrace,’ he said.

  How had he known that outside she could breathe more easily? She hadn’t even realised it herself. Surrounded by the sounds and sights of a busy city she felt less restricted, more able to concentrate on the lush planting and the huge starry sky overhead than focus so completely on him.

  They ate there as well. And, for all his forceful personality, Kain was surprisingly easy to talk to. Surprised, and a little alarmed, Sable realised she was speaking without thinking, and several times she suspected she might have given too much away.

  So it was with an odd feeling of betrayal that she heard him ask over coffee, ‘Just what is your relationship with Brent?’

  Loyalty to Brent drove her reply. ‘I have no intention of discussing him behind his back.’

  ‘I’m afraid you’re going to have to.’ Kain’s tone—autocratic, completely uncompromising—chilled her.

  Chin jutting, she demanded, ‘Why?’ And how are you going to make me?

  He replied with formidable composure, ‘Because if you and he are in love, I’ll back off.’

  Stunned, she stared at him. His smile stirred an unknown sensation deep inside her, a heat that beckoned, melting all her inhibitions in a fiery temptation.

  Surely he couldn’t mean…

  ‘I’m not sure I understand.’ Infuriatingly, her voice wobbled uncertainly, and the moment the words had emerged she wished she could call them back.

  ‘It’s quite simple,’ he said, leaning back in his chair and surveying her with heavy-lidded eyes. ‘I find you very attractive.’

  His bluntness shocked and stirred her in equal measure. She could read nothing in his handsome face apart from enigmatic amusement, yet his eyes gave him away; beneath the lowered lids she discerned a glitter of desire.

  An involuntary shiver—part fear, part keen anticipation that temporarily paralysed her thoughts—tightened her skin. For several increasingly taut seconds she dithered, finally saying with a hint of defiance, ‘I’m not in love with Brent.’

  Kain’s expression didn’t change except for a hardening of his gaze. ‘So why is Brent convinced that he’s in love with you?’

  Sable really liked Brent, who seemed younger than his years and oddly naïve; it was distasteful to be discussing him with his big, arrogant cousin. ‘He knows how I feel,’ she said steadily.

  ‘I suspect he hopes he can change your mind.’

  ‘He already knows it’s not going to happen.’ She hesitated, then said abruptly, ‘I haven’t ever given him any reason to feel that I’m interested in him other than as a friend.’ It was as far as she was prepared to go.

  ‘So moving into his apartment wasn’t an indication that you were prepared to allow him certain privileges?’

  His disbelieving tone made her lips tighten, and she said stiffly, ‘No, he was being chivalrous. I had to leave my previous flat unexpectedly. I’m planning to be gone by the time he gets home, and he knows that.’

  Kain examined her face, his cold eyes piercing and far too astute. Although she met that steady gaze without flinc
hing, Sable was feeling very uncomfortable by the time he said, ‘You’re sure?’

  ‘Absolutely sure.’

  After another penetrating look he nodded as though making up his mind about something. ‘I think the best way to deal with the situation is for you and me to become lovers.’

  ‘What?’ The word came out in a strangled squeak. The sounds of the city faded until all she could hear was the uneven, leaping thud of her heartbeats in her ears.

  ‘Relax,’ he advised, an ironic smile curving that beautiful, stern mouth. ‘Just how far the supposed affair goes would be entirely up to you. I’m not suggesting we jump into bed in ten minutes’ time.’

  He watched swift heat scorch her delicate skin. So she could blush, could she? Strange that he should find it so intriguing.

  Would she take the bait—go for the billionaire in the bush rather than the millionaire in the hand?

  With a quick shake of her head, she said, ‘That’s an overreaction if ever I heard one. When he comes back he’ll probably have met someone else to fancy himself in love with—’

  ‘And if he hasn’t?’

  That made her pause, but she quickly recovered. ‘He might be determined, but he’s not going to harass me.’ She gave him a direct look. ‘Is he?’

  ‘No.’ Although Brent was good friends with his cousin, he refused to compete with him; finding Sable ensconced as Kain’s mistress would put an automatic stop to any hopes he might have.

  She said triumphantly, ‘So there’s no need for a fake love affair to persuade him that I’m not in love with him.’

  His eyes gleamed, and he reached out a hand and snagged hers, drawing her to her feet. ‘It doesn’t need to be fake,’ he said and bent his head and kissed her startled mouth.

  It was a claim, open and demanding, and it smashed through her barriers with shaming ease. Later, thinking it over, Sable would blame her response on a wild rush of hormones to the brain, but right then she had no chance to think, no time to do anything but surrender to a compelling hunger that battered down her instinctive resistance.