Sandra Marton - More Than A Mistress

“Nine thousand,” the auctioneer shouted, and the crowd roared. “Nine thousand once. Nine thousand twice…”

“Ten,” the brunette screamed.

The blonde woman stopped. That’s it, baby, Travis thought. Turn around. Look at me.

And she did. Her eyes met his. Their gazes locked, and held. For one breathless moment, there was no one else in the room, no one else in the universe. It was only them. Travis, and the woman.

She knew it, too.

He saw her acknowledge it as her eyes widened, saw the impact of the understanding in the sudden, rapid rise and fall of her breasts. The tip of her tongue—a pale, silken pink—slipped over her soft-looking mouth.

Travis’s eyes bored into hers. Do it, he thought. Do it, do it…

“Going once,” the auctioneer said, “to the lady at table three, for ten thousand dollars. Going twice. Going—”

“Twenty thousand dollars.”

The crowd gasped. Every head swiveled toward the woman with the blond hair. Even the auctioneer leaned forward.

“Would you repeat your bid, please, madam?”

The woman took a deep breath. Travis thought he saw her tremble but he knew he must have been mistaken, because when she spoke again, her voice was cool, controlled, and touched with something that bordered on amusement.

“I said, I bid twenty thousand dollars.”

Bang went the gavel. “Sold,” the auctioneer said, triumphantly, “to the lady in red.”

And the crowd in the ballroom of the Hotel Paradise went wild.

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…”