Mistress: At What Price?

by Anne Oliver

  She couldn’t say when the contact became more intimate. The glances hotter, the caresses more meaningful. Later, when he excused himself to talk business, she was aware that she knew where he was at any given moment. She’d look up and somehow there he’d be. And more often than not his gaze would meet hers. How long could you continue to play a game when the rules threatened to change?

  During coffee he made an inspiring speech about the social, economic and technological disadvantages faced by people living in remote areas of the country, and how OzRemote was helping to address these issues.

  Mariel couldn’t take her eyes off him—along with every other woman there, she suspected. He was by far the most charismatic man in the room. He spoke with knowledge, passion and eloquence. She could understand why he wanted to shrug off the Babe’s Bachelor of the Year association; his respected business reputation didn’t deserve it. He’d only participated in the contest to help raise funds for his charity.

  ‘How long have you known Dane?’ she asked Cass as they wandered back from the ladies’ room later.

  ‘Five years. I met him around the same time I met Justin. They were just getting their business off the ground.’

  Cass stopped, took a seat on a sofa, and Mariel joined her.

  ‘I’ve never seen him look at any of his other dates the way he does you,’ Cass said.

  Mariel couldn’t allow herself to think about that. She dismissed it with a half-laugh. ‘That’s because we’ve known each other for years. I’m not his usual type.’

  ‘No. You’re not a blondie, for a start. And he can’t seem to leave you alone. This is the first time I’ve ever seen him look remotely serious about anyone since Sandy. But that crashed in a big way.’

  Instantly curious, Mariel shifted closer. ‘Who’s Sandy?’

  Cass lowered her voice and said, ‘You didn’t hear this from me, but Sandy was a woman Dane was dating a couple of years back. We all thought it might have been serious but then, as Justin tells it, Sandy tried to hurry things along by getting pregnant.’

  Her words ricocheted through Mariel’s body like a volley of bullets and lodged deep in her own womb. ‘Dane has a child?’

  Cass shook her head. ‘Turned out she wasn’t pregnant—just out to snare herself a rich husband. But he wasn’t the happy father-to-be she expected. She changed her story quick, but it was too late.’

  ‘She never understood him, then.’

  Mariel understood. His childhood experiences were preventing him from taking the risk of making a family life of his own, and that, in her opinion, was incredibly sad.

  The band struck up a lively nineties party tune as they returned to their table, and couples took to the dance floor. Dane leaned close and said, ‘My father’s here. He’s leaving in a moment, so we’ll go say hello together. For appearances’ sake.’

  ‘Oh, Dane, he’s supporting you here tonight? That’s fantastic. Isn’t it?’ She looked up at him, but his face was a blank wall. At least his father had made an effort, she thought as he escorted her through the crowd.

  ‘Mr Huntington.’ She shook his hand, leaned in and dropped a quick kiss on his whiskered cheek. ‘Lovely to see you again.’

  ‘Mariel. And for God’s sake call me Daniel.’ His handshake was firm, the skin paper-thin. He smiled, and the heavy lines around his mouth deepened. ‘Haven’t seen you in years. This is Barbara.’ He turned to the woman beside him, who was dressed in a low-necked frilly blouse and a long black skirt.

  ‘Barbara. How do you do?’ Mariel extended her hand and estimated ‘Silicone Barbie’ to be in her mid-forties.

  Barbie’s botoxed lips curved. ‘It’s nice to meet you.’ Then her gaze rolled up to the stiff-necked man beside Mariel. ‘Hello, Dane.’

  He inclined his head. ‘Barbara.’

  ‘Oh, this is one of my favourite songs, and Daniel’s not up to dancing tonight—just one dance, Dane?’ she said, blinking her false eyelashes at him.

  Dane could have refused, but he had a few things to say to his father’s live-in lover. Now seemed as good a time as any. He turned to Mariel, let his lips linger on the sweet curve of her cheek. ‘Excuse me, Queen Bee. This won’t take long.’

  ‘It’s fine.’ She waved him away. ‘I’ll keep your dad company.’

  ‘I’m glad I’ve got you alone,’ Barbara said the moment Daniel and Mariel were out of earshot. ‘I wanted to explain about that night. The man you saw me with was my financial adviser.’

  ‘Yeah.’ Dane laughed without humour and leaned close so only she could hear. ‘Since when did financial advice extend to a candle-lit rendezvous? A very intimate rendezvous, from where I was sitting.’

  ‘I—’

  ‘I’m glad you have a financial adviser, Barbara, because you’re going to need one.’ Not wanting to attract the nearby dancers’ attention, he kept his voice low. ‘You’ve wasted eight years of your life waiting for Dad to depart this world, because he’s not going to leave you a cent. You’re not going to get your greedy, cheating hands on the Huntington fortune.’

  Her nostrils flared, her eyes widened and she tried to pull away, but Dane tightened his hold. ‘He hasn’t told you he lost everything he owned in the share market crash, has he? I bought the family property from him, to get him out of financial ruin. The home you’re living in is mine. In fact, the dinner you just enjoyed was at my expense.’

  The skin around her pumped-up lips turned white. ‘You’re lying.’

  ‘Ask him.’ Watching shock bleach the colour from her face was one of his life’s more satisfying moments, and his smile was genuine as he escorted her back to her table. ‘Thanks for the dance and the chance to talk, Barbara.’

  Instantly she was forgotten as he turned to his partner for the evening. ‘May I have the pleasure of this dance?’

  Without waiting for an answer, he took Mariel’s hand and led her to the dance floor. The band switched to a slow, romantic number and he came to a halt in the middle of the room, drew her close. So close that he could see tiny flecks of navy amongst the emerald in her amazing eyes.

  He’d never noticed that before. He was discovering a lot of things about Mariel that he’d never noticed before. The tiny mole at the outer corner of her right eye. The way her eyes turned dark—midnight in a deep forest—when she was aroused.

  They were dark now.

  She stepped in closer, so he could no longer see her face, but her fingers stole up his shirt, the sides of his neck, then beneath his hair, where she stroked lightly with her fingernails.

  The music throbbed in time with his heartbeat as his hands drifted over her bare back, absorbing the silken warmth of her skin, the fine hairs at the nape of her neck. She smelled like a fantasy of fresh flowers rather than of her black rose trademark perfume, and he nuzzled beneath her ear to inhale deeper.

  ‘Dane…’

  He thought she whispered his name. Like a sigh. But he couldn’t be sure over the sound of the music. Did she make that soft sensuous sound when she made love? he wondered.

  He could find out tonight.

  Her cheek against his felt cool and soft, and his lips tingled as he turned his head slightly to taste.

  He couldn’t resist—he traced the graceful curve of her spine, down to where it arched against him. ‘You were right. This is an excellent choice of gown,’ he murmured.

  ‘I thought so,’ she murmured back, and he felt her cheek bunch against his as she smiled.

  The music faded, or perhaps he just stopped hearing it. With his hand still on her back he pulled her closer, so that their bodies touched, breast to chest, thigh to thigh. She melted against him like butter on hot toast.

  His body tightened, his pulse thrummed. He wanted to stay just this way, locked in this embrace, until the room was empty and they were alone.

  But he was the host, and if he didn’t pull away now he’d be an embarrassment to both of them.

  He drew back and looked at her. Dark, dark eyes. Full lush
lips that begged to be kissed. The pulse-point in her neck beat frantically, matching his own. ‘I think that convinced them,’ he muttered, a rueful smile pulling at his lips. ‘It damn well convinced me.’

  Her small smile took a while coming. ‘Me, too.’

  He escorted her back to their table, and then to give himself a moment to cool down excused himself and headed for the men’s room. On his way back he saw his father, sitting alone on a sofa outside the ballroom.

  He rose slowly as Dane approached, looking older than the last time he’d seen him a few months ago in the solicitor’s office.

  When Dane had purchased the family home so that his father could continue living there.

  ‘Can we have a quiet word?’ his father asked.

  ‘What’s on your mind?’

  ‘I just wanted to tell you you’ve done a magnificent job here tonight. Thank you for inviting me and Barb to be a part of it.’

  ‘You’re welcome.’ Dane’s voice sounded brittle to his own ears. When his father didn’t speak he asked, ‘Was there something else?’

  ‘Yes. There is,’ he said slowly. ‘And it’s been a long time coming. I haven’t got many years left, and I’ve taken a good look at myself lately.’ He glanced down at his feet, then looked up at Dane. ‘It would have been easier to decline your invitation. Son.’ He paused. ‘Maybe we could let bygones be bygones and move on?’

  Son. Dane wrestled with his emotions. It was the first time he could remember hearing his father acknowledge him as such. All those years when he’d wished his dad would toss him one crumb of affection. Dane had never wanted for money, privilege, social standing, but he’d have given it all away for family.

  ‘Why now, Dad? Because I saved your ass? And you know that in the end I’m the only one who gives a damn? We both know Barbara’s not going to stick around. I told her about the sale, Dad. It’s time she knew.’

  His father didn’t answer. Just continued to watch him with tired eyes.

  Despite all that had happened, deep down where it was only him and his maker, Dane yearned for the connection. But the past pain and the fear—yes, fear, dammit—of being hurt again was an impenetrable wall. Instead, he blocked all emotion and said, ‘We’ve never been big on family; you’re just getting sentimental in your old age.’ He jutted his chin towards the woman he’d just noticed standing like an ice statue at the bottom of the marble staircase. ‘Barbara’s waiting.’

  His father searched in his pocket for a handkerchief, then mopped his face. ‘I’ll be going, then. Goodnight.’ He turned and began walking towards Barbara.

  Shaken at his own callousness, Dane caught up, touched his father’s shoulder. He was shocked at the frailty he felt beneath the shirt. ‘If you need anything…’

  His dad nodded without turning. ‘I know.’

  And as Dane watched him shuffle towards the stairs that lonely little boy inside him ached.

  He’d never been so impatient for a night to end. With Mariel never far from his side, he discussed the upcoming trip north with those involved, made small talk with people he barely knew.

  Outwardly he maintained his calm, professional façade, but anticipation sharpened his focus on the night ahead to a pinpoint. He couldn’t wait to get Mariel alone upstairs.

  Finally his hand tightened on Mariel’s as the few remaining guests drifted out of the ballroom. They remained where they were while staff bustled in and out, glass and metal tinkling as they cleared tables, stacked chairs.

  He looked at her. She looked back. Awareness glimmered in her eyes, desire softened her mouth. She drew a breath, drawing his attention momentarily to the amply displayed cleavage. But it wasn’t only her body and the delights he knew that were awaiting his discovery that drew him to her and held him in thrall. It was the whole package.

  Words were irrelevant. The whole evening had been building to this moment. Tension gripped him when their linked hands accidentally brushed his trousers. His kiss, when he leaned in, was restrained and chaste. He motioned to the door with their joined hands. ‘Shall we?’

  ‘Good idea.’

  Still holding hands, they reached the door to their suite. He swiped the keycard and tugged her inside. City lights filtered through the window, casting an amber glow about the room. Even before the door clicked shut his lips were feasting on hers, and they went right on feasting as he whirled her around, pinning her against the wall. He didn’t know where to put his hands first, so went with her shoulders. Smooth and fragile-boned. He barely lifted his lips to mutter, ‘I can’t be gentle, not tonight.’

  ‘I never said I wanted gentle. Those were your words, not mine.’ She laughed, a lightly hysterical sound. ‘And you were referring to a car.’

  She didn’t object, and that was all he needed to know.

  Tonight she was his, to pleasure and enjoy. The knowledge careened through his mind, through his limbs, as he gorged himself on her sweet honey taste. Like a crazed bee in a field of clover, he left her lips to sample every patch of bared skin, finally settling to suckle the tender spot between neck and shoulder.

  Her fingers rushed up his shirt, popping buttons. Yanking the hem from his trousers, she spread the fabric wide to rub circles over his chest. The heat from her palms scorched and seduced, their impatience thrilled and tantalised.

  There was no sound in their thick-panelled room save for the sounds they made themselves. It accentuated his harsh breaths, her desperate moans, fabric abrading fabric, skin rasping skin. The urgent sounds detonated small explosions inside him that reverberated like gunfire through his limbs. What they’d begun as a foil for the press had become something else entirely.

  Or had they already known this was how it would be?

  Impatience born of desires too long denied made his hands clumsy as he pushed the dress from her shoulders, leaving her breasts dazzlingly, breathtakingly exposed. Pale, creamy flesh. Dark, erect nipples.

  Greedy now, he wanted more. He wanted all. He met her eyes, dark in the dimness. ‘How does this creation come off?’

  ‘Here.’ She guided his fingers to the zip. ‘It’s tight.’ He fumbled for a frustrating moment, then came the satisfying sound as it shirred downward. She helped him shimmy it over her hips. Her panties—if she was wearing any—went the same way as the dress. All she wore were sparkly stilettos.

  Sweet heaven.

  She reached out, flicked his belt buckle open, wrenched his zip down… In seconds he was as naked as she.

  He toed off his shoes. His pulse was jack-hammering, his heart felt so huge, so tight, he thought it might be going into cardiac arrest. Was it possible to die of anticipation?

  He twisted his fingers into her hair, pulling out pins, letting them drop wherever. Lifting her arms, she teased the silken mass out with her fingers so that it tumbled over her shoulders.

  And then she was twining herself about him like a vine, gyrating her hips against his throbbing erection. She was all lean limbs and strong lines, and if his heart didn’t give out he was probably going to spontaneously combust.

  He’d never wanted like this, never burned this way. Tomorrow, that might concern him, but at this moment the only thing in his mind was their mutual goal. All the years till now, all the women till now, had been a dress rehearsal for this command performance.

  Seemed he’d waited half a lifetime.

  She’d waited a lifetime. Dane Huntington, teenage fantasy, here. With her. Mariel rubbed her lips over his, opened her mouth and drugged herself with his taste. Heat, desire, impatience. Dragging her towards oblivion. She couldn’t think; her head was too filled with his scent. She could only feel. Sensations, lovely sensations, streaking over her skin and zapping through her body like golden lightning.

  The ache low in her belly grew, expanded, until she was a writhing mass of wanton need. ‘Now,’ she demanded, arching her hips against his pulsing hardness. Instinctively she reached down between them.

  His answering groan, harsh against her ear,
had her shuddering. ‘Protection?’

  ‘On the Pill.’

  He hefted her higher and her thighs wrapped around his waist. And he snapped, tension tearing free, his eyes smoking in the half-light, the hard planes of his body taut beneath her hands. No preliminaries—she didn’t want them this time, didn’t need them.

  Still watching her, he shoved inside with one long thrust. They stared at each other for what seemed an endless moment, while needs and desire pulsed through their bodies and the air softened around them.

  Then he withdrew a little, but only to push again, harder. Again. In a rhythm they both knew how to move to. He took, he possessed, and she met him hunger for hunger, greed for greed.

  Her climax shot her into the realms of dark pleasure and bright chaos. She clung to him as he crested the wave and joined her in the sheer mindless joy of shared delight.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  DANE was roused from sleep by a pounding on the door. Instantly awake, he grabbed one of the hotel’s robes, stepped around last night’s discarded clothing and padded to the suite’s door.

  Room Service with their requested breakfast. ‘Good morning, sir.’ The waitress smiled as he stood back to let her enter.

  ‘Good morning.’ He pushed a hand through his bedroom hair. ‘It’s nine o’clock already?’ He’d slept like the dead. Hadn’t slept like that since he didn’t remember when. He did remember they’d finally found their way under the bedcovers together.

  ‘Yes, sir. Five past, actually. We’re running a little behind this morning.’

  He found his wallet, dug out a tip while she set the tray on the table in the entertainment area. ‘Thanks.’

  ‘You’re welcome. Have a nice day.’