Mistress: At What Price?. Anne Oliver
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‘I know, I know, but…’
‘Don’t let him call the shots, Pheebes.’
‘I won’t. But I’ve got to meet him halfway, don’t I?’
Mariel raised a brow at the gleam in Phoebe’s over-bright eyes. ‘And where’s that?’
‘Um…a spot we like to go. Oh, and in case I don’t see you, I won’t be around when you get up. I’m on an early-morning flight to Melbourne. There’s a music festival on. So I’ve asked Brad Johnston to drop you home. You remember Brad; he’s keen to catch up with you again.’
‘Ah…’ Stomach sinking, she glanced over Phoebe’s shoulder, saw the familiar fuzzy-haired guy weaving his way through the crowd. More than keen, if Mariel wasn’t mistaken.
‘You two came together?’ Dane asked.
‘Yeah, my wonderful sister came to keep me company…um…because Kyle couldn’t make it. You don’t mind, do you, Mari?’
‘Of course not, but I think you should consider—’
‘No need to bother Brad,’ Dane cut in, his voice disturbingly deep, disturbingly close. ‘It’s all arranged, I’m taking Mariel home.’
Chapter Two
‘OH? OKAY…but…’ Phoebe’s eyes darted between the
two of them.
‘I’ll let Brad know,’ he told her.
‘Okay. Thanks, Dane. See ya later, sis.’ Phoebe pecked Mariel’s cheek and was gone in a whirlwind of pink and perfume.
‘Arranged?’ Mariel muttered, glaring at him while every internal organ traded places.
‘Wait here,’ he ordered, and was gone before she could utter another word of protest.
Hardly. But she stood immobile, feet stapled to the floor, while she watched him dispatch Brad in less than five seconds. Why weren’t her legs moving? Why wasn’t she getting the heck away before it was too late?
Dane could tell Mariel was unsettled by the sudden turn of events as he made his way back. Her eyes glinted dangerously, that beautiful mouth a slash of coral in her pale face. But, he noted with satisfaction, she’d made no attempt to disappear amongst the guests.
‘I was hoping to leave early,’ she said the moment he reached her side. Setting her cup down, she unzipped the diamante bag that swung from her shoulder. ‘About now, in fact. I wouldn’t want to spoil the evening for you. You probably came with someone…’ She pulled out her mobile. ‘I’ll call a cab.’
‘I told you. I’m taking you home. And it’s not a problem; I came alone.’
‘Oh…’ He saw her register that fact as her eyes clashed with his again.
Not a problem? Dane gave himself a mental slap on the forehead. They had unfinished business that went back ten years. To a night of youthful passion on a girly patterned quilt, the night-cooled fragrance wafting inside on the moonbeams.
Then a very ugly end outside his father’s garage.
Not a matter that could be sorted out tonight, Dane knew, but he’d taken one look at Brad and some sort of proprietorial instinct had kicked in.
‘But you’ll want to stay, enjoy…’ She waved a carefully manicured hand. ‘Whatever…’
‘I’m ready to leave when you are.’
‘Very well,’ she said with quiet formality, her spine rigid. ‘Thank you. I’d like to leave now, if that’s okay. My body clock’s still on Greenwich Mean Time.’
‘We’ll say our goodbyes, then.’ He placed a hand on the small of her back. He hadn’t counted on the heat that rushed into his palm at that first electrifying contact. Beneath his palm the sensuous fabric of her designer dress shifted against her flesh, making him wonder how she would feel without the silk.
Just smooth, sleek skin.
She flinched as if burned. So she felt it, too, he mused as he steered her towards their hosts. Interesting. Had she and her French lover called it quits? She’d returned alone, and there’d been a definite chill in her reply when Paris had been mentioned.
The paparazzi, eager for their quota of celebrity guest snaps, were milling about the property’s open gates. A security guard waved Dane through. Bulbs flashed and a blur of faces bumped up against the window.
‘You’d be accustomed to this?’ he asked, steering his way through the photographers. ‘I should have asked if you were okay with it.’
‘Yes and yes. But in this case they’re not aimed at me.’
‘That ain’t necessarily so. You’re somewhat of a celebrity yourself these days.’
‘Not so much here. And it’s not as if I’m your date or anything.’
He glanced her way before spinning the car onto the country road, leaving the press behind in a spray of dust. ‘They don’t know that.’
She didn’t reply. In fact she looked serenely ahead, watching the moon-drenched paddocks and stands of gum trees flash by. Every so often a light glinted from a farmhouse behind the regular curtains of foliage.
She wasn’t as calm as she let on, he noted. The grip on her bag was white-knuckled, and her thumbs massaged the strap in tiny jerky movements against her thighs.
Thighs that looked smooth and silky and…very naked.
Eyes on the road. Only on the road. Sweat broke out on his brow. He switched the air-conditioning to full blast. ‘Too cold?’ he asked a moment later, more to fill the silence than anything else. Silence that seemed to throb with the sound of the bass from the stereo speakers.
‘No…no, it’s…cool.’
She changed position, and he didn’t have to look to know she’d stretched those long naked legs out in front of her. Within the Porsche’s confines her roses-and-sin perfume wound around his senses like a long-forgotten dream. He thanked whatever lucky star was out tonight that it was only a short drive over the next ridge of hills.
Through childhood she’d always been his best mate, generous and loyal and stubborn. By seventeen she’d turned into a confident, ambitious young woman who wanted to take on the world. And leave him behind.
He shook off the edgy thought and glanced her way again. At twenty-seven…Well, right now she was all about lusciousness and impact. But how well did he know this grown-up version? ‘You were saying you’re not modelling now?’ he prompted into the silence.
She hesitated. ‘No. My business partner and I parted ways.’
‘Luc?’ She’d carefully avoided mentioning the fact that he’d also been her lover. ‘Phoebe told me all about him.’ Slight emphasis on ‘all’.
‘Yes. Luc. I don’t want to talk about it. Him.’ She waved a disconcerted hand. ‘Any of it.’
‘I’m sorry,’ he said, and hoped he sounded sincere. And why wouldn’t he be? He’d only ever wanted the best for Mariel.
‘How’s your father?’ She spoke suddenly, as if she’d plucked something—anything—out of the ether to switch topics.
‘He was okay when I spoke to him a couple of months ago.’And that was all Dane needed to know, all Mariel needed to know, and all he wanted to say about his old man.
‘And your mother?’
‘Still living in Queensland, last I heard.’ With her man of the moment.
‘So…by that I take it you don’t live at home now?’
Home. Dane scowled