The Billionaire's Virgin Mistress. Sandra Field
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cotton clung to the breadth of his shoulders. As he rolled up his sleeves, corded muscles moved smoothly under his skin. Moved erotically, Tess thought, and buried her nose in her mug. What was wrong with her? She never noticed the way a man moved.
The silence had stretched on too long. She said politely, “Is it still raining?”
“Supposed to stop tomorrow morning.” He took another gulp of beer. “What did you do all day?”
“Read in the library.”
“Right up your alley,” he said with a faint smile.
One smile. That was all. No reason for her to feel as though he’d given her the sun, the moon and the stars. The man had charm to burn, she thought crossly; but she’d always considered charm a slippery attribute at best. Picking up her mug to drain the last of the hot chocolate from it, she said tautly, “If you’re not able to drive me home tomorrow morning, I’m sure there’s a chauffeur hidden away in this barn of a house. I’ll get him to drive me…good night.”
“Wait a minute!”
Furious, she glanced down. His fingers—those elegant fingers—were clamped around her left wrist. “Let go,” she flared. “I’m not in the mood for macho.”
“Del won’t be home until the afternoon, and he wants to meet you—so you can’t go back before that. And when you meet him, don’t say or do anything to upset him. He’s to be kept quiet for the next while, and he’s not supposed to worry about anything.”
“You told him I was here? That I’d meet him?” she said, her voice rising.
“Of course I did. Why else are you here?”
“How was I supposed to leave? I don’t have a car, there’s no bus to Malagash Island and I don’t like hitchhiking in a downpour.”
Cade stood up, still clasping her wrist. “You’ll meet him, Tess. You don’t have to throw your arms around him. But, by God, you’ll be polite.”
“Is this your CEO act?” she snapped. “Well, whoop-de-doo.”
Her eyes were like green fire. Not stopping to think, Cade dropped his head and kissed her, hard and fast and with all the pent-up emotion of the last two days. Then he stepped back, his heart juddering in his chest. “I’ve been wanting to do that ever since I saw you jogging on the beach,” he snarled. “You be around when Del comes home, and watch what you say. If you’re half the person the islanders say you are, you wouldn’t want an old man’s death on your conscience.”
His kiss, so unexpected, so forceful, had seared through her like a bolt of lightning. Her adrenaline sky-high, any caution lost in rage, Tess wrenched her wrist free and blazed, “You’re the one who brought me here—what about your conscience?”
“My conscience is my concern. Just behave yourself tomorrow.”
“Don’t tell me how to behave—I’m twenty-two, not ten,” Tess retorted, itching to throw her empty mug in his face. Banging it on the counter instead, she pivoted to leave the room.
Like a steel clamp, Cade’s hand closed around her shoulder. “I’m not only telling you how to behave, I expect to be obeyed. Have you got that straight?”
“I’m not an employee you can fire when the whim takes you!”
“No,” he said in a voice like ice, “you’re Del’s granddaughter.” Then, with a deliberation that was subtly insulting, he released her and stepped back.
Was she really related to the old man she’d seen in the hospital? Or was this whole setup as unreliable as a bad dream? Unable to think of a thing to say, as furious with herself as she was with Cade, Tess marched out of the room with as much dignity as she could muster. As she raced up the back stairs, she realized she was scrubbing at her mouth, doing her best to erase a kiss that had been shattering in its heat, its anger and its imperious demands.
No wonder words had deserted her. No wonder she was on the run.
Once again, she locked her bedroom door.
CHAPTER FOUR
BY THE time the rain stopped the next day, an hour after lunch, Tess was in a foul mood. She’d go mad if she didn’t get some exercise.
She’d always hated being confined.
While Moorings must be worth a mint, she wouldn’t trade it for her cabin for all the money in the world. But would Cade believe her if she told him that? Somehow, she doubted it.
She slipped out the front door. The air was filled with the heady scent of wet pine needles mingled with salt from the sea. Breathing deep, she set off down a narrow path that, she hoped, would lead her to the ocean.
The path ended at a secluded cove ringed by rocks, where the water sparkled and danced, riffling onto a pale sand beach. Quickly she shucked off her borrowed sandals, and dipped her toe in. Cold, yes, but not unbearably so. She looked around. No one in sight, and Cade wouldn’t be back until late afternoon.
Like the mischievous little girl she’d never been allowed to be, Tess stripped to her underwear and, giggling breathlessly, ran into the water. In a mighty splash she flopped forward and thrashed toward the rocks.
She’d learned to swim at a local pool the year she’d spent in Boston as a housekeeper; her strokes were strong, if not particularly stylish. The exercise warmed her, and all the kinks—physical and emotional—of the last forty-eight hours washed away.
Heaven, she thought, turning on her back and floating so she could gaze into the guileless blue sky.
Cade settled Del in the master suite at Moorings, promising to bring Tess to meet him in an hour or so. He then went in search of her.
He drew a blank in the library, the dining room, the solarium and her bedroom. Her black dress was still hanging in the closet; so she couldn’t have left.
The beach, he thought. That’s where she’d go. Unless she’d left Moorings altogether: she hadn’t liked his ultimatum or his CEO act, and he wouldn’t put it past her to start walking the highway toward Malagash Island. He hoped to God she wouldn’t hitchhike; even on the back roads of Maine, that wasn’t a good idea.
If she wasn’t at the shore, where would he look next?
He hurried to his room, changed into running gear, and took off down the path. Wet leaves brushed his bare arms, and it was unseasonably warm. He was sweating by the time he emerged onto the beach.
A little heap of clothes lay on the sand and the beach was deserted. Cade jolted to a stop and scanned the surf, his pulse pounding in his ears.
Where the hell was she?
Then he caught sight of a wet head, sleek as a seal’s, out by the rocks. Tess. She was cavorting in the waves, diving, splashing and kicking. His relief was instantly engulfed in anger.
He yelled her name. Her head swiveled. She waved at him, and even from that distance he could see she was laughing. Anger notched up to sheer fury.
He ran the length of the beach, his sneakers sinking into the sand. Then, with ferocious speed, he leaped from rock to rock along the long outcrop of granite. When he was level with her, he shouted, “Come closer—I’ll lift you out.”
Treading water, she gazed dubiously at the chunks of rock. “I’ll swim back to the beach and meet you there.”
“Do as you’re told. Or so help me, I’ll jump in and haul you out.”
A wave sloshed over her bare shoulders. Laughing with delight, she said pertly, “It’s a gorgeous day! Why are you so angry?”
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