Sandra Marton - More Than A Mistress

Be honest, Baron. Some of the things he’d done in bed hadn’t been as erotic as that kiss.

It had been that way for her, too. He knew what that sexy little moan had meant, knew from the feel of her in his arms that she’d been as ready as he’d been. He understood the touch of her tongue against his, the gentle pressure of her teeth…

“…Mr. Baron?”

He blinked. The ditzy reporter was talking to him, holding out her mike as if it were the Holy Grail.

“Excuse me?” he said, and she smiled even more brightly and repeated her question.

He smiled back. Yes, uh-huh, he’d had a great time tonight. No, of course he hadn’t been nervous. Who could be nervous, when it was all for charity?

They were going to love this interview, at Sullivan, Cohen and Vittali.

Now it was Alexandra’s turn. The reporter turned her painted-on smile in her direction.

“And what brought you here this evening, Ms. Thorpe?”

Alexandra hesitated for a second, then began talking about her lifelong commitment to charity. Travis pretended to listen, and smiled like an idiot. If she wasn’t lying, he was a monkey’s uncle.

Whatever had brought her here tonight didn’t have anything to do with charity. He’d seen the look on her face, the wildness in her eyes. Something had driven her to this auction, and he needed to know what that something was.

But what had made her bid on him was easy to figure.

It had been desire. A desire that raged so fiercely within her that he’d felt its force on the stage. The same desire that had made her melt in his arms moments ago when he’d kissed her.

That first rigidity of her body, and then the way she’d shuddered and come alive in his arms. The feel of her breasts, pressed against his chest. Her lips, parting to give him access to the honeyed essence of her mouth. The whisper of sound that had spoken of surrender…

He knew he’d never forget it. There was no point pretending he didn’t have a long history with women. Still, that kiss, that incredible kiss, was different from anything he’d ever known.

Travis shifted his weight. What was he doing to himself? Another couple of seconds, the TV camera and the crowd were going to be treated to a sight he’d never live down. It was time to take this strange little play to a private setting, where the next scene could be played out, in full.

He slipped his arm around Alexandra’s waist, his hand splaying against her hip in warning.

“Okay,” he said cheerfully, breaking into the middle of some inanity of the reporter. “Okay, folks, that’s it.”

The little knot of journalists groaned. One of them began to ask another question but Travis just kept smiling. And talking.

“Hey, guys, don’t you think Ms. Thorpe and I are entitled to a little time alone?”

“You have a three-day weekend to be alone,” one of them said, and they all laughed.

“And a weekend to plan,” Travis said. He looked down at Alex. “Right, Ms. Thorpe?”

“Right, Mr. Baron,” she said, flashing him a smile that was vaguely reminiscent of the snarl of an angry Doberman.

“I just love that old-fashioned formality,” the reporter gushed. “Mr., Ms…. So charming!”

Travis laughed merrily as he began backing Alex from the dance floor. “Well,” he said, “Ms. Thorpe is just an old-fashioned girl.”

As if on cue, the orchestra struck up another waltz. Come on, Travis thought, come on!

People surged onto the floor to dance.

Travis didn’t waste any time. He let go of Alexandra’s waist, grabbed her hand and all but sprinted for the door. She tried to tug free when they were halfway through the lobby but his fingers tightened on hers.

“Keep going,” he said, and led her out the main doors, past the doorman and down the wide marble steps. Anybody watching would figure they were making a romantic getaway. He almost imagined it, himself, until they reached the street and she dug in her spiked heels, wrenched her hand from his and spun toward him.

“Exactly what do you think you’re doing?” she said, turning her angry face up to his.

“Calm down, Sugar.”

Alexandra stamped her foot. “Kindly do not ‘sugar’ me!”

“My car is parked just up the street.”

“Do you really think I give a damn where your car is parked?” Alex tossed her head. “Listen to me, Mr. Baron, and listen well. You are, without question, the most horrible man I ever—”

Travis rolled his eyes, grabbed her wrist and tugged her down the street and into a doorway.

“Don’t you ever think before you make a scene, lady? Or do you like being in the spotlight?”

“I cherish my privacy.”

“Yeah, well, you’ve got a strange way of showing it.” He waved his hand in the general direction of the main entrance to the Hotel Paradise. “What makes you so sure that nitwit reporter and her bozo cameraman weren’t hot on our heels, huh?”

He could see her face pale a little, even in the darkness of the doorway.

“Were they?”

He leaned out and looked. “No,” he snapped. “But you didn’t even think about it before you started chewing me out. Just once, you might try thinking of the consequences before you act.”

“Me? Me, think of the consequences?” Alex threw back her head. “Ha,” she said, without the least touch of humor, “oh, ha, Mr. Baron, that is a good one! That’s really something, coming from you.”

Travis folded his arms. “I,” he said loftily, “am not the person who got us into this mess.”

And now that he thought about it, it was a mess. He’d made an idiot of himself, prancing around onstage. And then the Thorpe babe had made an idiot of herself, running away. And just now—he’d kissed her in front of a zillion people in a way he’d probably never, ever live down.

“I am the innocent party in this entire unfortunate affair, sir!”

“Hey, Sugar. Don’t you pull that Ice Princess bit on me.”

“Are you deaf, Mr. Baron? Do not call me ‘sugar.’”

“Forgive me, Ms. Thorpe!” His mouth thinned and he shoved his face toward hers. Despite herself, Alex took a hurried step back. “Princess suits you,” he muttered. “That little lady’ll never know how right she was!”

“What little lady?”

“Never mind.” A muscle knotted in Travis’s cheek. “The bottom line here is that I am tired of being the villain in this piece.”

“Are you suggesting that I am?”

“You bid on me, remember?”

Color shot into her face. “Permit me to refresh your memory, Mr. Baron. This was a bachelor auction. The whole purpose of the event was for women to bid on men.”

“Uh-huh.”

“What, pray tell, is that supposed to mean?”

“It means you didn’t have to bid so much for me that you brought the house down.”

“I don’t have to listen to this—”

Travis grabbed her shoulder as Alex tried to brush past him. “And then,” he growled, “as if you hadn’t drawn enough attention to us already—”

“I drew attention?” Alex tossed back her head and laughed. “Oh, I love that, Mr. Baron. I wasn’t up on that stage, prancing around like a—a male stripper!”

A smile tilted across Travis’s mouth. He shifted his weight so that he blocked the doorway. All Alex could see were his broad shoulders and his ruggedly handsome face, only that and the dark night that surrounded them.

Her heart skipped a beat.

They were on a street in a busy city but she suddenly felt as if they were the last man and woman on Earth. It was the same way she’d felt when, with bravado in her blood and idiocy in her brain, she’d burst into the ballroom and spotted him onstage. The same way she’d felt on the dance floor, when he’d kissed her.