The Billionaire's Virgin Mistress. Sandra Field
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liar?”
“Because he asked me to.”
“Oh, so you dance to his tune? But of course, I’m forgetting, he’s a very rich man.”
Cade’s breath hissed between his teeth. Had he ever known a woman to get so easily under his skin? “Del gave me a secure and happy childhood,” he grated, “and taught me a great deal over the years. Now he’s old and he’s sick, and it’s payback time.”
Tess said, going on intuition, “You didn’t mean to tell me that, did you? Any more that I meant to sound off about freedom and happiness.”
Infuriated by her accuracy, Cade picked up his mug and drained it. “You make a mean cup of coffee, Tess Ritchie,” he said with a wolfish grin. “In your lunch hour, go on the Internet and look up Lorimer Inc.—check me and Del out, get a few facts. I’m taking you out for dinner after work. I’ll pick you up here, sharp at six-thirty, and we’ll continue this conversation.”
She raised brows as elegant as wings. “Are you giving me orders?”
“You catch on fast.”
“I have my faults, but stupidity isn’t among them.”
“I didn’t think it was,” he said dryly.
“Good. Then you’ll understand why I’m not going out for dinner with you. Goodbye, Mr. Lorimer. It’s been…interesting.”
“So interesting that I’m not about to say goodbye. Come off it, Tess—you’re certainly smart enough to know I won’t vanish just because it suits you. Six-thirty. If nothing else, you’ll get a free meal at the hotel, prepared by one of the finest chefs along the coast.” His smile bared his teeth. “Besides, I’ve been told I’m a passable dinner date. Now hadn’t you better get ready for work instead of standing there staring at me with your mouth open? I wouldn’t want you to be late.”
“I’m not—”
He took the two steps off the deck in a single stride, loped around the corner of the cabin, got in his car and roared up the slope.
He’d gotten away from her without touching her again. For which he deserved a medal. And he knew exactly what he was going to do next. A self-imposed task, the potential results rather more important than he liked.
CHAPTER TWO
CAREFULLY Cade steered the Maserati between the potholes in Tess’s driveway. He was twenty-five minutes early. Only, he assured himself, because he’d completed his task, and the paperback novel he’d brought with him had failed to hold his attention.
Nothing to do with Tess, and the itch under his skin to see her again.
He climbed out of his car and knocked on her door. No answer. He knocked again, feeling his nerves tighten. Had he been a fool to take her for granted, and assume she’d be meekly waiting for him? She was no pushover. If she didn’t want to see him again, she’d take measures to put that into effect.
He tried the door, which, to his surprise, opened smoothly. Stepping inside, he closed it behind him. Ella Fitzgerald was crooning on the stereo; the shower was running full-blast.
Tess was home. She hadn’t run away.
It shouldn’t matter to him as much as it did.
Cade looked around, taking his time. Clothes were flung over the chair: a black dress, hose and sleek black underwear that raised his blood pressure a full notch. Dragging his eyes away, he took in the cheerful hooked rugs dotting the worn pineboard floor, and an array of cushions that brightened the sagging chesterfield. Books overflowed the homemade shelves. The room was spotlessly clean.
Absolutely no evidence that she’d ever had any access to Del’s allowance, or to any other substantial source of money, Cade thought. Basically it was the room of someone who lived off a minimal paycheck.
Someone who’d be far from immune to the Lorimers’ wealth.
The CD came to an end. He flipped through a stack of discs, discovering old favorites of his own, intrigued by how eclectic a collection it was. He selected a CD and snapped open the cover.
The shower shut off. As he leaned down to push the play button, a door opened behind him and he heard the soft pad of bare feet on the wooden floor. He turned around.
Tess shrieked with alarm, clutching the towel to her breasts. Her hair was wrapped in another towel, turban-fashion, emphasizing her slender throat and those astonishing cheekbones; her shoulders were pearled with water and her legs went on forever. He wanted her, Cade thought. Wanted her here and now. Fiercely and without any thought for the consequences.
He wasn’t going to do a damn thing about it. For starters, she was Del’s granddaughter and strictly off-limits. Plus—more importantly—he was far from convinced she was as innocent as she looked. Too much money was at stake.
She said shakily, “You’re early.”
“I did knock. The door wasn’t locked.”
“I usually don’t bother locking it. Although I guess I should when you’re around.”
He said hoarsely, “Tess—”
“Don’t come near me!”
The terror was back full force. “Sometime—soon—you’re going to tell me why I frighten you so badly,” he said. “I made a dinner reservation for seven—charming though you look right now, a towel won’t cut it.”
Her heart was still racketing in her chest. Sure, he’d startled her. But it was more than that. In his light gray suit, blue shirt and silk tie, Cade looked formidably sophisticated and wholly, disturbingly male. Not to mention sexy, a word she avoided like the plague.
She was the nearest thing to naked.
Power, she thought slowly, that’s what he breathed; although he was quite possibly unaware of it. Power. Money. Sexual charisma. All three put his danger quotient off the chart.
She didn’t do sex.
To her horror, she heard herself blurt, “If Del Lorimer’s my grandfather, that makes you my uncle.” This all-too-obvious fact hadn’t struck her until five minutes after Cade had driven away from her cabin this morning.
“I’m Del’s adopted son,” Cade said curtly. “No blood relation to your grandfather at all. Or to you.” Just as well, he thought savagely, given the way his hormones were acting up.
Adopted. Not a blood relative. But not her fate, either, Tess thought in a sudden snap of fury. Merely a man who was a total stranger to her, and who would remain just that—a stranger.
Unfortunately her thoughts didn’t stop there. Because she’d grown up in an environment where she could trust nothing, she’d always endeavored to remain honest with herself. If she were to be honest now, relief had been her predominant emotion that Cade Lorimer wasn’t related to her by blood; close on its heels had been utter dismay at all the implications of that relief.
It didn’t matter who Cade was. She just didn’t do sex.
Deeply grateful he couldn’t read her mind, she said tartly, “So you’re an adopted son. If I’m the newly discovered granddaughter, aren’t you afraid I’ll supplant you?”
“No,” Cade said coldly, and watched her lower her lashes, her face unreadable.
Then she looked up, meeting his gaze in unspoken challenge. “My clothes are on the chair,” she said. “Turn your back.”
Unwillingly admiring her spirit, he tore his eyes from the silken slopes of her bare shoulders and did as she asked. “You okay with this music?”
“Meatloaf, Verdi, Diana Krall,” she said wildly, “play what you like. And I’m not wearing a towel for dinner, I’m wearing a dress. The only one I own, so if it’s