The Secret Mistress

The spectacular view of La Paz at night was not the drawcard. She desperately needed to put distance between her and the man who’d deliberately raised memories of their affair. And its ending.

“I must say you look as dynamic as ever,” she threw at him, forcing herself to attach a conciliatory smile. “I’d say life has been treating you well.”

“It could be better,” he replied, watching her move away from him with a dark amusement that raised Shontelle’s sense of danger several notches.

“I expect you’re married by now,” she added, trying to drive a moral wedge between them.

His white shirt was half unbuttoned, revealing a provocative arrowhead of his broad muscular chest, dark skin tipped by a glimpse of the black curls she knew spread across it. His forearms were bare, too, sleeves rolled up, flaunting his strong masculinity. She hated the thought of his wife knowing him as intimately as she had.

“No. As it happens, I’m not married.”

The cold, hard words were like nails being driven into Shontelle’s heart. Had she made a mistake? A flood of hot turmoil hit her. Fortunately she’d reached the window. She swiftly turned her back on him, hiding her wretched confusion, pretending to be captivated by the spectacular view.

Surely to God he was lying! He’d been betrothed to another woman—the Gallardo heiress—before and during their affair two years ago. He’d lied then, by omission. He’d left Shontelle blindly believing she was the only woman who counted in his life when there were two others who had a longer, deeper claim on him.

How could anyone not count Elvira Rosa Martinez?

More to the point, it had been totally unconscionable of Luis to remain silent about the young woman designated as his wife; the sweet, convent-raised, beautifully mannered Claudia Gallardo.

His silence had spelled out where Shontelle stood in his life—a handy bit of foreign fluff on the side, out of his mainstream, suitable only for fun and relaxation. But then he hadn’t made any promises, she savagely reminded herself.

“I assume you’re not married, either, since you’re travelling with your brother,” he drawled, each word sounding closer.

He was coming after her.

“I’m here on business, Luis,” she said tersely, wishing she hadn’t raised anything personal. He couldn’t be believed anyway. He’d undoubtedly say—or not say—whatever suited his purpose.

“Do you have a lover tucked away at home, waiting to serve your inclinations?” His voice had the stinging flick of a whip.

“I’m all out of lovers at the moment,” she answered flippantly, disdaining even a glance at him.

“Which is why you came on this trip, mmh?”

The silky taunt hit her on the raw. The urge to swing around and let him have the sting of her tongue almost blew her mind off her purpose here. She gritted her teeth, folded her arms to hold wayward impulses in, and stared fixedly at the myriad of lights beyond the window.

“It looks like a fairyland outside, doesn’t it?” she remarked as lightly as she could.

It was true. La Paz was the highest capital in the world and it appeared to be built in a moon crater. From where she was viewing it from the low downtown area, the lights of the city rose in a great circular curve, going up so high they seemed to be hanging in the sky. Incredible there were actually people living behind them.

“You need a magician to get you out of it,” Luis mocked, standing right behind her now.

“We need a bus,” she said quickly, fighting her intense awareness of his nearness.

“The curfew doesn’t lift until six in the morning.”

Her heart skittered. What was he implying? They had all night to negotiate?

“I don’t like your hair constricted in a plait,” was his next comment, confusing Shontelle further.

Her spine crawled at his touch as he lifted the rope of hair away from her back. She knew what he was going to do but her mind couldn’t accept it. He couldn’t still love her hair. He couldn’t still want her!

Or maybe he didn’t.

Maybe he was playing some cruel cat-and-mouse game.

She wanted to look at his face but she was frightened to. What if he was waiting to feed off her feelings? Pride insisted she deny him the satisfaction of knowing she was rattled. Could he hear the mad thumping of her heart? Stay calm, stay calm, stay calm, she recited feverishly.

He’d worked off the rubber band and was separating the twisted swathes, seeming to take sensual pleasure in the feel of her hair. Impossible to ignore it. Impossible to stay calm.

“What do you want from me, Luis?” she blurted out.

“What I had before.”

Her mind fragmented under the force of her own desire to have him again, and his apparent desire to recall and repeat the passion they’d shared. Some tattered shreds of reason shrieked that he was only playing with her, using his power to make her succumb to him, but she had to know, had to see.

As she jerked around to face him, her arms flew out of their protective fold and lifted into an instinctive plea for truth. “What do you mean?” she cried.

He still held a skein of her hair and he wound it around his hand as his eyes blazed their dark purpose into hers. “I mean to seize the day, Shontelle. Or to put it more graphically...the night. You want a bus. I want one more taste of you.”

Shock waves slammed through her.

One more taste...

Only one...

Payment for the bus.

“Not such a difficult deal, is it?” he taunted. “Just a matter of giving me what you gave of yourself two years ago...in your desire to get what you wanted of me.”

“I didn’t get what I wanted then,” she protested, her voice thin and shaky under the appalling weight of devastated hopes.

A savage fury flared into his eyes. “Was I not all you wanted of a Latin lover?” His mouth curled with cruel intent. “Well, let me try not to disappoint you tonight. We have many hours ahead of us. I promise you a feast of hot-blooded sensuality.”

Hot and hard and ruthless.

The awful part was, Shontelle could not stop her body from pulsing with excitement at what he offered. Only with him had she ever known intense physical ecstasy. She hadn’t even felt a twinge of attraction towards anyone else in the past two years. Just the thought of touching Luis again, feeling him...quivers of anticipation shot through her.

But he was treating her like a whore, laying it out that she could only get the bus in return for sex.

Sex...not remotely connected to love. Not even the slightest semblance of love. It was wrong, wrong, wrong! Her heart twisted in torment as he twisted her hair more firmly around his hand and tugged her closer to him. Then his other hand slid over her breasts, his palm rotating caressingly, his eyes glittering their triumphant knowledge of what had pleasured her in the past, and to prove him right, her nipples instantly stiffened into begging prominence.

“Stop it!” she hissed, hating his power to arouse her even as she revelled in the sharp sensation that stimulated a host of nerves, arcing from her breasts to the innermost core of her sexuality.

One black eyebrow arched mockingly. “You no longer like this?”

He was the devil incarnate, tempting her. The truth was, she didn’t want him to stop. She didn’t want him to ever stop. But he would. This was only to be one more taste. Unless...

Something deeply primitive stirred in Shontelle.

He wasn’t married, so he said.

And he still wanted her.

He also wanted a payback for his wounded pride.

Well, so did she. So did she!

“I don’t normally go for one night stands,” she said.

“But these are special circumstances,” he returned silkily.

“Just let me understand you clearly, Luis...”

With her heart thumping to a wild beat, Shontelle flicked open the shirt button over his chest curls and slid her hand inside, seeking and deliberately tweaking one of his nipples. His sharply indrawn breath was music to her ears. She had power over him, too. It wasn’t a one-way street.

Her eyes flirted challengingly with his as she spoke through the provocative, physical teasing. “...If I stay with you the night and let you have your...” She lowered her gaze to his mouth, regarding it assessingly. “...taste of me...” She let the words linger for a moment, then flicked her gaze up, raising her eyebrows in pointed questioning. “...I get the bus? Is that the deal?”

“Yes,” he hissed at her.

“Then make your calls now, Luis. Let me hear you arrange the delivery of an appropriate bus to The Europa Hotel as soon as the curfew is lifted tomorrow. When you’ve done that, I’ll call Alan to assure him everything’s all right and I’ll be staying with you until morning.”

His jawline tightened. His eyes narrowed. He didn’t like her calling the shots, but he’d dealt her the cards, made the rules of the game, and Shontelle figured he couldn’t fault her over playing them. A sense of triumph poured a burst of adrenalin through her veins. No one was a victim unless they allowed themselves to be.

She pursed her lips into a considering little smile. “A feast of hot-blooded sensuality sounds good. I do hope you’re up to it, Luis.”

The moment the words were out, she felt a swell of danger—a dark and fierce emanation from him swirling around her, sending shivers down her spine. He smiled right back at her as he released her hair—a smile that promised himself a deep well of satisfaction. He plucked her hand from inside his shirt and drew it slowly down, palm against him, fingers splayed.

“Feel for yourself how up to it I am, Shontelle,” he drawled, his other hand gliding up her throat to cup her chin.

He was fully erect, his arousal straining against the barrier of clothes. He guided her into stroking him as he tilted her head and bent his own. “Just to make sure I do want the taste,” he murmured, then covered her mouth with his, not giving her any chance of reply.

Shontelle didn’t even think of trying to deny him. The urge to taste him, too, was far too strong for any denial. And his mouth was soft, sweetly seductive, at first, his tongue merely flicking over the soft inner tissues of her lips, sensitising them with delicious tingles.

She responded, wanting to know if the passion they had once shared could be triggered again, beyond pride, beyond all the differences between them. Her free arm instinctively curled around his neck to hold him to her and the kiss deepened, pursuing a more erotic, more exciting intimacy.

Her body started clenching with a need it had all but forgotten. She grasped the hard proof of his desire, fingers digging around it, revelling in the feel of him. She was so caught up in her own strong responses, it came as a shock when he abruptly ended their kiss, removed her hand from him and broke out of her embrace.

“You must be hungry for a man, Shontelle,” he mocked, lifting the fingers that had been squeezing him to his mouth. He lightly nipped them. “Definitely an appetising taste. Please excuse me while I execute my half of the deal. I look forward to the rest of the night.”

He walked away from her, seemingly completely in control of himself. Shontelle was left feeling shattered, her legs trembling, drained of strength, her stomach churning so much she wanted to be sick, her heart aching, her mind zigzagging helplessly through a maze of fierce contradictions.

She loved him... and hated him.

She craved more of him...yet wanted to cut out his callous heart.

Was it to be a night of intense life... or a night of heart-killing desolation?

She didn’t know...couldn’t decide...couldn’t tear herself away from whatever might pass between them.

He picked up a telephone, pressed a sequence of numbers, spoke with the arrogant authority of his name, his position, the power that came automatically with great wealth...Luis Angel Martinez...the only man who’d ever moved her like this...and maybe the only man who ever would.

Was there anything to win by staying?

The bus, her mind answered.

But the bus had no relevance to the question.

She wanted...needed...to win something for herself. So she had to stay and see this night through, even if she lost everything.

One night...one night...unless she could turn it into something more.

CHAPTER FOUR

LUIS was rock-hard and in pain but the shattered look he’d left on Shontelle’s face was worth every second of the discomfort. No way was she going to turn the tables on him! He hoped the witch was burning with frustration.

He deliberately kept his back turned to her while he talked on the phone to Ramon Flores who could organize any form of road transport in La Paz. It was local courtesy to speak Quechua, the old Inca language, and Luis did so with perverse pleasure, knowing Shontelle would not be able to follow it. Her grasp of Spanish was good, but she only had a sketchy knowledge of the native dialects.

Let her stew in uncertainty, he thought. She was too damned sure of her power to get what she wanted. Before this night was out she’d learn who was master of the situation, and he’d kiss her goodbye with the same brutal finality she’d shown him two years ago.

“The bus is not a problem, Luis,” Ramon said predictably. “But...”

The pause sharpened Luis’ attention. “But what?”

“It would be useless to ask any of my local drivers to deliver it. They would be stopped and arrested before the bus got to The Europa. The military edict is no gathering of crowds. They consider three people together a crowd. A local man taking out a bus...it would not be allowed. Too suspicious.”

Luis frowned. He hadn’t thought of that. Yet if he didn’t deliver...no, he had to. He refused to look weak and ineffectual in front of Shontelle Wright. There had to be a way.

“Your Australian friend...he might get through, being a foreigner,” Ramon suggested. “Since he is prepared to risk his tour group in trying to get out of La Paz, tell him to come to the depot and take the bus himself. It will be fully fuelled, ready to go.”

It made sense, but it wasn’t the deal he’d agreed to with Shontelle. Her words, not his, he reasoned. He didn’t have to toe her line. The essence of the deal was the same. The bus would be available for Alan to take. That was all his erstwhile friend had requested.

“Someone will be at the depot to hand over the bus?” he asked.

“Curfew lifts at six. I’ll have a man at the gates at six-thirty.”

“Thank you, Ramon.”

“Your friend is a fool, Luis.”

“His choice.”

“It’s our bus. This could bring trouble kicking back to us.”

“I’ll wear it. You are simply following my orders, Ramon.”

“As you wish.”

Luis slowly lowered the receiver, his mind engaged in hard reappraisal. This whole enterprise was stupid, inviting trouble. Alan’s tour group was safe at their hotel. What was another week or two out of their lives? Better locked away in luxury than dead. It was just as stupid for him to get involved, putting the Martinez reputation for finely balanced political sense on the line.

For what?

A woman who had used him...a woman worth nothing!

Madness to have been tempted into wreaking some sweet vengeance. It was beneath him. He should dismiss her from his suite right now, send her off with a bitter sense of failure. That was vengeance enough.

He turned to do it.

She stood framed by the blackness of the night beyond the window, the twinkling stars of light from the city surrounding her, lending her an air of etherial mystery. Her long hair gleamed like a stream of moonlight and her golden skin glowed, the perfect foil for eyes that shone like emeralds. Her full lips were slightly apart, as he’d left them, waiting it seemed for another kiss, insidiously beckoning him.

He forced his gaze down the long graceful line of her neck to the blood-red T-shirt. She had no heart, he told himself. No heart. But the lush softness of her breasts moved as though to the beat of one, a beat that tugged on him with inexorable and tormenting strength.

How was it possible, he wondered, to feel such desire for a woman...yet hate her with equal ferocity?

“Is the bus assured for tomorrow morning?” she asked, her voice strained.

The conviction swept into Luis’ mind. This was no fun for her. Which was only right and just. She’d had her fun last time. It was his turn tonight. He could send her away right now, defeated, but what satisfaction was there in that? He wanted—needed—the same physical satisfaction she had taken from him, over and over again.

“Yes,” he said. “You’ll get the bus.”

Which put their deal on the line.

Luis watched her take that in, and all it implied. Her gaze dropped from the hard challenge in his. Her hands interlocked in front of her waist, as though testing how much strength she had, fingers flexing...and he craved their touch on him again. Her breasts and shoulders lifted slightly as she drew in a deep breath. He found himself holding his own breath, waiting for her decision, willing her to concede to him, his whole body focusing energy on her, determined on drawing her into the ring with him.

She spoke, still with her eyes downcast. “If you have a wife, Luis, this is a rotten game you’re playing and I won’t be a party to it.”

Luis clenched his teeth. It was because of her he didn’t have a wife, but he’d rot in hell before she dragged that admission from him.

“If I had a wife, you would have had no access to me, Shontelle,” he stated bitingly.

Her lashes slowly lifted, her eyes meeting his with an oddly poignant expression of irony. He caught a sense of fatalism, yet there was no resignation to defeat in it, more a feeling of being ready to ride whatever outcome ensued from the situation. It disturbed him. It wasn’t what he expected from her. Not what he wanted, either.

“What time should I tell Alan the bus will be at our hotel?” she asked. “He’ll want to have the tour group ready to go.”

The hotel! It was on the tip of his tongue to state that Alan would have to collect the bus from the depot. A surge of pride stopped him. If he didn’t win his ground with this woman, he would always feel whipped by her. Which was totally intolerable. No way would he give Shontelle Wright any cause to scorn him again.

It might be sheer madness to risk his own skin to balance the scales, madness to risk blotting the Martinez reputation for steering clear of trouble, but he would get the damned bus himself rather than give Shontelle a loophole out of this deal. She had to be his for this one night. Somehow it was a need that drove to the very core of his manhood.

“Seven o’clock,” he answered tersely. “Given that it’s not stopped by the military. That I cannot control.”

A sigh whispered from her lips. She nodded acceptance. “Fair enough! I’ll ring Alan now.”

Done!

Yet Luis’ triumph had a bittersweet taste. She had wrung more from him than she was worth. But she would pay, he promised himself. He would strip her of every bit of power she had over him before dawn came. Then he would be free of her. Finally free of her.

CHAPTER FIVE

SHONTELLE tried desperately to focus her mind on how to tell Alan she was spending the night with the man who’d stolen her heart two years ago and hadn’t valued it...a man who’d used her for pleasure...and when she’d taken the pleasure away, had vindictively taken out his displeasure on her brother. There was simply no way Alan was going to understand.

One more night...

With any luck she should at least win something from this encounter. It would either set her free of Luis Angel Martinez...or...give her hope of something more from him, more than she had believed possible.

He wanted her...perhaps as badly as she wanted him. It was what she was gambling on. Plus the fact he hadn’t married. The Gallardo heiress hadn’t got him. And maybe—just maybe—Elvira Rosa Martinez didn’t know her son as well as she thought she did.

“The telephone is free for you to use,” Luis dryly reminded her, gesturing to it with a casual grace that belied any tension on his part over her decision to stay.

He looked so arrogantly sure of himself.

But he did want her.

Shontelle pushed her legs into action and a wry smile onto her mouth. “This is not going to be an easy call.”

He returned a derisive look. “Did you think it was easy, looking like a fool for ordering a bus out in this volatile climate?”

He had a point.

Both of them fools.

For some reason, that thought boosted Shontelle’s morale.

Luis did not move away from the telephone to let her speak privately to Alan. He propped himself against the edge of the writing desk, apparently intent on hearing every word. She had no choice but to stand next to him, which heightened her awareness of the strong force field coming from his dominating maleness.

She turned her back on him once the call was put through. She didn’t want him witnessing her awkwardness in explaining her decision to Alan. It was bad enough knowing he was listening without him watching her every nuance of expression.

“Where are you calling from?” Alan demanded, the moment she announced herself.

“I’m still with Luis in his suite. He’s got you the bus, Alan.”

“What did he want for it?”

“It’s no problem. You can tell everyone to be in the hotel foyer, ready to leave at seven o’clock, all going well.”

“All going well?” Suspicion sharpened his voice. “What’s Luis up to, Shontelle?”

“Alan, he’s ordered the bus. He can’t guarantee the military won’t stop it before it reaches the hotel.”

She heard him expel a long breath. She also heard Luis straighten away from the desk, moving to stand behind her.

“Right! That’s it then,” Alan decided. “I take it you’ve finished talking and you’re ready to leave. Give me five minutes and I’ll be at the side door into the Plaza to bring you back here.”

Hands slid around her waist, distracting her. Luis was standing close behind her, very close, but not touching except for his hands. Her buttocks clenched in sheer nervousness. Her heart leapt into her throat when he started unbuckling her belt.

“Shontelle?”

She dragged her attention back to Alan, belatedly recalling he’d been offering the protection of his escort back to the hotel.

“Uh...no. No, we haven’t finished here,” she rushed out.

“Just starting,” Luis murmured, darkly purred words that set her pulse pounding. The buckle undone, he unbuttoned the waistband and drew down her zipper.

Shontelle held her breath. Her mind blanked out on all active thought, waiting, poised on the edge of an explosion of sensation should he move his hand inside her clothes and...

“What’s going on there?” Alan demanded, his voice getting edgier.

She gulped, forced herself to think. An answer was needed. Fast. “I’m going to spend the night with Luis, Alan,” she gabbled, almost yelping as her trousers and underpants were pulled down to her thighs.

“What?” Alan squawked.

Her brother’s shock was nothing to Shontelle’s at being so summarily stripped. Exposed. Vulnerable to anything Luis might choose to do with her. This was going too far, too fast. The urge to drop the telephone and yank up her clothes was muddled by Alan’s yelling at her.

“I’m coming to get you right now.”

“No!” She jerked around to face Luis, wanting to stop his actions, too. “No!” she repeated for him.

Wild, reckless and wicked intent blazed at her. He ignored her protest, picked her up, sat her bare bottom on the desk, lifted one of her legs, propped her foot against his thigh and proceeded to undo her bootlace. Shontelle lost track of what she should be doing. Luis was undressing her with ruthless efficiency. His powerfully muscled thigh was bent towards her, reminding her of how magnificently perfect his physique was. But shouldn’t she stop this...this taking? If she moved her foot up...