It Started With One Night: The Magnate's Mistress / His Bride for One Night / Master of Her Virtue

He smiled back. ‘Possible. But not probable. Look, let’s not spoil tonight with such talk. Let’s just eat some wonderful food together and drink this wonderful champagne. I want to get you delightfully tipsy so that I can take you back upstairs and have my truly wicked way with you.’

Although Tara’s stomach flipped at the prospect, she stayed calm on the surface, suspecting that Max was watching her for her reaction. As much as she was curious, she wasn’t sure if the reality would be as exciting as the fantasy. And even if it was, what about the consequences? Did she really want Max thinking she would do anything he asked? What next?

‘You think that’s the answer to my co-operation?’ she asked coolly. ‘Getting me drunk?’

‘Is it?’

‘I hope not.’

‘Then how about this?’ And he extracted a small gold velvet box from his pocket.

Tara stared at the ring-sized box.

An engagement ring. He’d bought her an engagement ring. He was going to ask her to marry him!

The shot of adrenalin which instantly charged through her bloodstream made a mockery of her denial to her mother that marriage to Max was not what she wanted at this moment in her life.

Clearly, her body knew things which her brain did not.

‘Go on,’ he said, and reached over to put the gold box on the white tablecloth in front of her. ‘Open it.’

Something about the scenario suddenly didn’t fit Tara’s image of how a man like Max would ask her to marry him. It was all far too casual. He was far too casual.

She sucked in a deep breath, then let it out slowly, gathering herself before opening the box. When she did, and her eyes fell upon a huge topaz dress ring, she was ready to react as she was sure Max expected her to react, with seeming pleasure and gratitude.

‘Oh, Max, it’s lovely! Thank you so much.’

‘I knew it would match that dress. That’s why I wanted you to wear it tonight. Go on,’ he said eagerly. ‘Put it on. See if it fits.’

She slipped it on the middle finger of her right hand.

‘Perfect,’ she said, and held it out to show him. The diamond-cut stone sparkled under the candlelight. ‘But you really shouldn’t have, Max. You make me feel guilty that I didn’t buy you anything. I had no idea you were such a romantic.’

‘I think I’m catching the disease from you.’

‘I don’t know why you keep calling me a romantic.’

‘When a girl of your looks reaches twenty-four still a virgin then I know she’s a romantic.’

‘Maybe. Maybe not. I consider myself more of an idealist. I didn’t want to have sex till I really wanted it. I wasn’t waiting for love to strike so much as passion. Which it did. With you. I didn’t realise I was in love with you till the following morning. How long did it take till you realised you loved me?’

‘The moment you smiled at me in that shop I was a goner.’

‘Oh, Max, now who’s being the romantic?’

He smiled. ‘Aah, here comes Jarod to take our order. Let me order for you tonight, darling. Now that you’re breaking out in other ways, I think it’s time you tried some different foods.’

‘If you insist.’

He grinned. ‘I insist.’

Tara sat back and sipped her champagne whilst Max went to town with their meal order. He’d always liked ordering the rarest and most exotic foods on the menu for himself.

Clearly, Max was happier now with her than ever. Tara glanced down at the topaz ring and told herself it had been silly of her to want it to be an engagement ring.

Max was right. She was a romantic.

‘You don’t like it,’ Max said.

Tara glanced up to see that Jarod had departed and Max was looking at her with a worried frown.

‘Of course I do,’ she said with a quick smile. ‘It’s gorgeous.’

‘So what were you thinking about that made you look so wistful?’

She shrugged. ‘I guess I’d like to spend more time with the wonderful man who gave it to me.’

‘Your wish is my command, my darling. How would you like to quit that job of yours and come with me when I go overseas?’

Tara’s mouth dropped open.

‘I take it that stunned look on your face means a yes?’

‘I…I…Yes. Yes, of course. But Max, are you sure?’

‘I wouldn’t have asked you if I wasn’t sure.’

So why haven’t you asked me this before now?

The question zoomed into her mind like an annoying bee, buzzing around in her brain, searching for the truth. What had changed in their relationship that he suddenly wanted her with him all the time?

Tara hated the answer that would not be denied.

The sex. The sex between them had changed.

‘Why now, Max?’ she couldn’t stop herself asking whilst her stomach had tightened into a knot.

He shrugged. ‘Do you want the truth? Or romantic bulldust?’

‘Romantic bulldust, of course.’

He laughed. ‘OK. I love you. I love you so much that I can no longer stand leaving you behind when I go away. I want you with me, every day. I want you in my bed, every night. How’s that?’

‘Pretty good. Now how about the truth?’

Max looked at her and knew he would never tell her the truth, which was that he was afraid of losing her if he left her behind. He suspected she had never felt anything like she’d felt with him today. How, now, could he expect her to patiently wait for him to come home? She might not actively look for other lovers, but men would always pursue Tara…

‘The truth,’ he repeated, doing his best to look in command of the situation. ‘The truth is I love you, Tara. I love you so much I can’t stand the thought of leaving you behind when I go away. I want you with me, every day. I want you in my bed, every night.’

And wasn’t that the truth!

Tara tried not to burst into tears. She had a feeling that sobbing all over the place was not what Max wanted in a mistress. Because of course, if she did this, if she quit her job and let Max pay for everything whilst she travelled with him, that was what she would be. Possibly, that was all she would ever be. There was no guarantee their relationship would end in marriage, no matter how much Max said he loved her.

Still, there’d never been any guarantees of that. He’d never given her any. And he wasn’t giving her any now.

Tara thought of what her mother had said about how he would never give her what she wanted. Once again, she tried to pin down in her mind what she actually wanted from Max at this stage in her life. That ring business had rocked her a bit. Suddenly, she wasn’t at all sure. The only thing she was sure of was that she didn’t want to lose Max. Now more than ever.

‘I’ll have to give Whitmore’s two weeks’ notice,’ she said, her voice on the suddenly breathless side. Her heart was racing madly and her mouth had gone dry. ‘I can’t just leave them in the lurch. February is top tourist season for the Japanese.’

‘Fine. But what about next weekend? I have to go back to Auckland, negotiate with some owners there about a hotel. If I arrange plane tickets for you, would you join me there?’

‘I wouldn’t be able to leave till the Saturday morning. We’d only have the one night together.’

‘Better than nothing,’ he said, blue eyes gleaming in the candlelight.

‘Yes,’ she agreed, a tremor ripping down her spine. By next Saturday, her body would be screaming for him.

She picked up her glass and took a decent swallow, aware that he was watching her closely.

‘Are you all right, Tara?’ he asked, softly but knowingly, she thought.

‘No,’ she returned sharply. ‘No, I’m not. And it’s all your fault. I feel like a cat on a hot tin roof.’

‘Aaah.’

There was a wealth of satisfaction—and knowledge—in that aaah.

‘Would you like me to have our meals sent up to the penthouse?’

Tara blinked, then stared at him. If she blindly said yes, it would be the end of her. She would be his in whatever way he wanted her. There would be no further questioning over what she wanted, because what she wanted would be what he wanted.

But how could she say no when she wanted it too? To be his. To let him take her back into that world he had shown her today, that dizzying, dazzling world where sensation was heaped upon sensation, where giving pleasure was as satisfying as receiving it, where the mind was set free of worry and all its focus was centred on the physical.

‘Can we take the champagne too?’ she heard herself saying, shocked to the core at how cool her voice sounded.

‘Absolutely.’ Max was already on his feet.

‘Will you still respect me in the morning?’ she said with a degree of self-mockery as he walked round the table towards her.

Placing one hand under her chin, he tipped up her face for a kiss which was cruel in its restraint.

He’s teasing me, she realised. Giving me a taste of what’s to come.

‘Tell me you love me,’ he murmured when his mouth lifted.

‘I love you.’

‘Let’s go.’

CHAPTER SEVEN

‘I’M BEING punished for last night,’ Tara groaned.

‘You’ve just got a hangover,’ Max reassured her, sitting down on the side of the bed and stroking her hair back from her forehead. ‘You must have had too much champagne.’

‘I’ll never touch the stuff again,’ Tara said, not sure which was worse. Her headache or her swirling stomach.

‘Pity,’ Max said with a wry smile. ‘You really were very cooperative.’

‘Don’t remind me.’

Max laughed. ‘I’ll get you a couple of painkillers and a glass of water.’

Max disappeared into the bathroom, leaving Tara with her misery and her memories of the night before. Impossible to forget what she had allowed. Ridiculous to pretend that she hadn’t thrilled to it all.

Tara groaned, then groaned again. She was going to be sick.

Her dash to the bathroom was desperate, shoving Max out of the way. She just had time to hold her hair back and out of the way before everything came up that she’d eaten the night before. It came up and came up till she was left exhausted and shaken. 84

It’s just a hangover, she told herself as Max helped her over to the basin, where she rinsed out her mouth and washed her face. Or the same virus I had yesterday morning. I couldn’t possibly be pregnant. Mum put that silly thought into my head. And it is silly. I had a period, for pity’s sake.

‘Poor darling,’ Max comforted as he carried her back to bed and placed her still naked body gently inside the sheets. When she started shivering he covered her up with a quilt and tucked it around her. ‘No point taking any tablets if you’re throwing up. I’ll go get you that glass of water. And a cool washer to put on your forehead. That helps sometimes. Take it from one who knows. I’ve had a few dreadful hangovers in my time. Still, you must be extra-susceptible to champagne, because you didn’t have that much. I think I had the major share. And we wasted a bit. On you.’

‘Don’t remind me about that, either,’ she said wretchedly. ‘Could you dispose of that disgusting champagne bottle? I don’t want to look at it.’

‘Come, now, Tara, you loved it last night. All of it,’ he said as he swept the empty bottle off the bedside table and headed for the doorway. ‘But I will tolerate your morning-after sensitivities,’ he tossed over his shoulder, ‘in view of your fragile condition.’

Her fragile condition…

Tara bit her bottom lip as the question over her being sick for a second morning in a row returned to haunt her. Max was right. She hadn’t had that much champagne. Hard to pin her hopes on the gastric virus going around, either. With that, Jen and her kids had been running to use the loo all the time. Then there was her sudden recovery yesterday afternoon and evening, only for her to become nauseous again this morning.

If she hadn’t had a period recently then she would have presumed she was pregnant, as her mother had. Was it possible to have a period and still be pregnant? Tara had read of a few such cases. They weren’t proper periods, just breakthrough bleeding, mostly related to women who’d fallen pregnant whilst on the Pill. Nothing was a hundred per cent safe, except abstinence. Her mother had told her that, too.

‘Oh, God,’ she sobbed, and stuffed a hand into her mouth.

‘That bad, huh?’ Max said as he strode back into the bedroom, carrying a glass of water with some ice in it. ‘Do you want me to ring the house medico? I have one on call here at the weekends.’

‘No! No doctor.’

‘OK, OK,’ Max soothed, coming round to place the glass on the bedside table. ‘No doctor. I’m just trying to help. I don’t like seeing you this sick.’

‘What you don’t like is not having your new little sex slave on tap this morning!’

The horrible words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. She saw Max’s head jerk back. Saw the shock in his eyes.

Tara was truly appalled at herself. ‘I’m sorry,’ she cried. ‘I didn’t mean that. Truly. I’m not myself this morning. I’m a terrible person when I’m sick.’ And when I’m petrified I might be pregnant.

The very thought sent her head whirling some more. She didn’t want to be pregnant. Not now. Not when Max had just asked her to travel with him. Not when her life had just become so exciting.

‘It’s all right, Tara. I understand.’

‘No, no, you don’t.’

‘I think I do. What happened yesterday. And last night. It was a case of too much too soon. I became greedy. I should have taken things more slowly with you. You might have enjoyed yourself at the time, but hindsight has a way of bringing doubts and worries. It’s good, in a way, that this morning has given us both a breather. Even if it’s not under pleasant circumstances for you.’

‘You don’t mind?’

His smile was wry. ‘Mind? Of course I mind. I’d love to be making love to you right at this moment. But I’m a patient man. I can wait till next weekend. And next time, I promise I won’t frighten you with my demands.’

‘You…you didn’t frighten me, Max.’

He stared into her eyes. ‘No? Are you sure?’

‘I’m sure. I liked everything we did together.’

He let out a sigh of relief. ‘I’m so glad to hear that. I have to confess I was a bit worried that I might have gone too far last night. Not at the time. But when I woke, this morning.’

Not as worried as she was this morning.

Max sat down beside her on the bed and started stroking her head again. ‘Still, I don’t want you to ever think you have to do anything you don’t want to do, Tara. I love you, not just having sex with you. All right?’

She nodded, but tears threatened. Max might say that now, but what if she was pregnant? Would he be so noble when faced with her having his baby? Or would he do and say things which might threaten their relationship for good?

Endless complications flooded into her mind, almost overwhelming her with fear, and feelings of impending doom.

But you don’t know you’re pregnant, she tried telling herself. You could very well be wrong.

Yes, yes, she would cling to that thought. At least till Max left. She couldn’t continue thinking and acting this way or she would surely break down and blurt out what was bothering her. And she really didn’t want to do that. Max had enough things on his mind these days without burdening him with premature news of an unconfirmed pregnancy.

No, she had to pull herself together and stop being such a panic artist. Max had a couple of hours yet before he left for the airport. Surely she could stay calm for that length of time. Why spoil the rest of his stay with negativity and pessimism? What would that achieve? He was being so sweet and understanding this morning. It wasn’t fair to take her secret fears out on him, especially when it was only a guess, and based on nothing but her feeling nauseous two mornings in a row.

Hardly conclusive proof.

‘Max…’

‘Yes?’

‘I’m feeling a bit better now. My stomach is much more settled. Do you think I should try something to eat? Maybe some toast?’

‘I think that would be an excellent idea. Eating is another good cure for a hangover. I’ll have Room Service send some up.’ And he stood up to walk round to the extension that sat on his bedside chest. ‘I’ll order myself a decent breakfast at the same time. Just coffee won’t cut it this morning. Not with airline food beckoning me later today. I need something far more substantial.’

Tara pulled herself up into a sitting position, dragging the sheet up with her over her breasts and tucking it modestly around her. As much as she might have discovered a new abandon when she was turned on, she was still not an exhibitionist.

‘You know, Max,’ she said when he’d finished ordering, ‘you should keep some staple foods in your kitchen. Cereals last for weeks. So does long-life milk and juice. And bread freezes. It’s rather extravagant to order everything you eat from Room Service.’

‘Maybe, but I intend to keep on doing it. I work incredibly long hours and I have no intention of spending my precious leisure time in the kitchen. I have far more enjoyable things to do when I’m on R & R.’ And he gave her a wickedly knowing smile.

Tara was taken aback. Maybe she was extra-sensitive this morning, but she didn’t like Max describing the time he spent with her as R & R—rest and recreation.

She dropped her eyes to her lap to stop his noting her negative reaction and found herself staring at the huge topaz ring which was still on her finger. His gift was the only thing he hadn’t removed from her last night.

Suddenly, she saw it not as an anniversary present, but the beginning of many such gifts, given to her for services rendered; rewards for travelling with him and filling his rest and recreation hours in the way he liked most.

She pictured their sex games being played out in lavish hotel rooms all over the world, Max’s demands becoming more and more outrageous in line with the extravagance of his gifts. Soon, she’d be dripping in diamonds and designer clothes. But underneath, she wouldn’t be wearing any underwear. In the end, she would become his sex slave for real, bought and paid for, fashioned to fulfil his every desire. She would cease to be her own person. She’d just be a possession. A toy, to be taken out and played with during Max’s leisure time, and ignored when he went back to his real life. His work.

Of course, such a sex toy had to be perfect, physically. It could never be allowed to get fat. Or pregnant.

Pregnant sex slaves had two choices. They either got rid of their babies. Or they themselves were dispensed with.

Both scenarios horrified Tara.

‘Max!’ she exclaimed, her eyes flying upwards.

But Max was no longer in the bedroom. Tara had been so consumed with her thoughts—and her imaginary future—that she hadn’t noticed his leaving.

‘Max!’ she called out and the door of his dressing room opened. He emerged, dressed in one of his conservative grey business suits, though not teamed with his usual white shirt today. His shirt was a blue, the same blue as his eyes. And his tie was a sleek, shiny silver, a change from his usual choice. His hair was still damp from a recent shower and slicked straight back from his head.

He looked dashing, she thought. And very sexy.

But then, Max was very sexy.

An image flashed into her mind of his tipping champagne from the bottle over her breasts, then bending to lick it off. Slowly. So very slowly. She’d pleaded with him to stop teasing her.

But he’d ignored her pleas.

That was part of the game, wasn’t it?

The best part. The most exciting part.

‘What?’ he asked, frowning over at her.

‘I…I didn’t know where you were,’ she said lamely, hating herself for her sudden weakness. She’d been going to tell him that she’d changed her mind about travelling with him; that she didn’t really like the way things were heading.

But the words had died in her throat at the sight of him. It was so true what they said. The mind could be willing but the flesh was very weak.

‘Thought I might as well get dressed before Room Service called,’ he explained. ‘I know how you don’t like the butler coming in when you’re in bed. Besides, no point in staying in my bathrobe with you feeling under the weather, is there?’

The front door bell rang right at that moment. Max hurried from the room, returning in no time, wheeling a traymobile. By then, Tara had decided she was being a drama queen. Max loved her and she loved him. It was only natural that he would ask her to travel with him. And it was only natural that she would go.

As for her pregnancy…

That was as far-fetched an idea as her becoming some kind of mindless sex slave. She had always had a strong sense of her own self. Her mother called her wilful and her sister said she was incredibly stubborn. If Max started crossing the line where she was concerned, she would simply tell him so and come home. Nothing could be simpler.

‘Now, that’s what I like to see,’ Max said as he tossed her one of the Sunday papers. ‘Almost a happy face.’

She smiled at him. ‘Nothing like feeling better to make you feel better.’

He scowled. ‘Now she tells me, after I’m dressed.’

‘That was not an invitation for more sex, Max Richmond. I think we’ve indulged enough for one weekend. I would hate to think that all I’d be if and when I travel with you is a means of rest and relaxation.’

He frowned at her. ‘If and when? Did I hear correctly? I thought you’d agreed to come with me. It was just a matter of giving your notice.’

‘Yes, well, I’ve been having some second thoughts.’

Tara knew how to play that game. The hard-to-get game.

For years before she’d met Max, she’d played it to the hilt. Whilst she’d not been so successful with Max, she suspected that it would do him good to be a little less sure of her.

‘Aah,’ he said. ‘I see. Hence, the sex-slave accusation.’

‘Yes…’

Max sighed, then came over to sit on the bed once more.

‘I don’t know how many times I have to tell you this weekend, Tara, but I love you. Deeply. I want you with me for more than just sex. I enjoy just being with you, even when we’re not making love. I enjoy your company and your conversation. I enjoy your wit and your charm with other people. Taking you out is a delight. You are a delight. When you’re not sick, that is,’ he added drily, dampening her pleasure in his compliments.

‘Charming,’ she said. ‘So if I ever get sick, I will be tossed aside, like a toy whose batteries have run low?’

‘No more of this nonsense!’ he pronounced, and rose to his feet. ‘You’re coming with me and that’s that. So what would you like on your toast? There is a choice of honey, Vegemite and jam. Strawberry jam, by the look of it.’

‘Vegemite.’

‘Vegemite toast coming up, then.’

Tara raised no further objections to travelling with him.

But she resolved not to ever let him take away her much valued sense of independence. She’d always been her own person and would hate to think that her love for Max would eventually turn her into some kind of puppet.

She munched away on her toast and watched him tuck into his huge breakfast, which he ate whilst sitting with her on the bed. He chatted away when he could, pleasing her with the news that the comment she’d made yesterday about never being able to resist a buy-one, get-one-free sale had inspired him to make such an offer with his hotel in Hong Kong.

Stay one week, get one free was now posted on its website and was already bringing in results with scads of bookings.

‘We won’t make a great profit on the accommodation,’ he told her. ‘But empty rooms don’t return a cent. Hopefully, the type of guest this promotion attracts will spend all the money they think they’ve saved in other places in the hotel. Pierce thought I was crazy, but that was yesterday. This morning he’s singing my praises. Says I’m a genius. Forgive me for not telling him that my little genius is my girlfriend. Male ego is a terrible thing.’

Tara suspected that it was.