Claiming His Mistress

He hadn’t meant to wait another moment, but the slick warm softness of her drew him into stroking, feeling, claiming this intimate part of her and driving her arousal to the same fever pitch as his own. Where he was rock-hard, she quivered, and he knew precisely when she couldn’t bear any more excitement. She wrenched her mouth from his, gasping, moaning.

“Put your legs around me now,” he commanded, hoisting her up against the wall, one arm under her buttocks as he inserted himself into the hot silky heart of her, thrusting hard, needing to feel engulfed by the female flesh welcoming him.

Her legs linked behind his hips, pressing him in, obviously needing the sensation of being filled by him, every bit as needy as he was for sexual satisfaction. It was more than enough permission for what he was doing. The only thought he had as he continued to revel in the freedom of unbridled lust was…yes…yes…yes…

It felt so good…better with every plunge…the tense excitement building faster…faster…his whole body caught in the thrall of it…and finally, a fierce pulsing of intense pleasure exploding from him…the sweet, shuddering relief of it…

He knew she had climaxed before him. Probably with him, as well. He would have liked the sense of fully feeling the physical mingling with her. Impossible with a condom. But protection was more important than any fleeting and false sense of togetherness.

Her legs were limply sliding down his thighs. Excitement over. Aftermath setting in. He separated himself from her and helped steady her as she stood once more against the wall. The clasp around his head loosened, her hands dropping to his shoulders. He was glad they were both wearing masks. He didn’t want to see the expression on her face. For him, this encounter had run its course, and the sooner they parted, the sooner he could get it out of his head.

He’d wanted her.

She’d wanted him.

They’d satisfied each other and that was that.

The spectre of Katie Beaumont could now be put to rest again.

Katie was stunned out of her mind. It was all she could do to stand on her own two feet. The impression of Carver was so strong—the shape of his head, the texture of his hair, the broad muscular shoulders, the sprinkle of black curls across his chest, the whole feel of him—her head was swimming with it. Her entire body was swimming with the sense of having been…possessed by him.

It had to be sheer fantasy, driven by long unanswered needs, yet…

Who was this pirate king?

She could tear off his mask…but if he looked totally different to Carver, how would she feel then?

Wait, she told herself.

It was safer if she waited.

He might say something to reveal more about himself.

Her heart was still thundering in her ears. Impossible to think of anything to say herself. He was readjusting his clothes, all under cover of the cloak that had sheltered their intimacy. Her skirt had slithered back into place when he’d moved away from her. There was no urgent need to reposition the G-string panties. It made no difference to the line of her dress.

Besides, she didn’t want to touch herself there…where he had been. Not yet. She wanted to savour the lingering pleasure of all he’d made her feel. Like Carver…

He straightened up. It was difficult to tell if he was the same height as the man she’d once loved, given the boots he wore and her own high-heeled sandals. Was the cloak making his shoulders look broader than she remembered? They felt right. She stared at his mouth. The light was dim here, but surely the shape of those firmly delineated lips were…

He compressed them, frustrating her study. He plucked her hands from his shoulders and carried them down, deliberately placing them on her hips as he stepped back.

“The dance is over, Carmen.”

The cold, harsh statement was more chilling than the night air, bringing instant goose bumps to her skin.

Somehow she found her voice. “So what happens now?” It came out in a husky slur.

“I told you I walk alone.”

Another chilling statement, striking ice into her heart.

He lifted a hand and ran light fingertips down her cheek. “This is one man who can take what you give…and leave. But I do thank you…for the pleasure.”

He took another step away from her, his hand gone from her face but still raised in a kind of farewell salute. He paused a moment, as though taking in the image of her—Carmen left against the wall, abandoned by him after he’d taken his pleasure of her…and after he’d given what she’d virtually asked of him.

She didn’t move.

This was the end of it.

He was going.

“The pleasure was mine, too,” she said, driven to match him even now. “Thank you for the dance.”

He inclined his head in what she thought was a nod of respect, then turned and strode away, taking with him the spectre of Carver, the cloak swirling around his swiftly receding figure.

Fantasy…

She stood against the wall for a long time, needing the support as she fought the tremors that shook her. It was better this way, she kept telling herself, better to have the memory and not the disappointment that reality would surely bring.

It might be like an empty memory right now…but it was something.

He’d made her feel like a woman again.

CHAPTER THREE

AS SHE rode the train from North Sydney to Town Hall for her all-important appointment in the city, Katie did her best to keep her nerves under control by thinking positively.

The facts and figures she had marshalled—costs and estimated profits—for her business proposition were neatly organised in the slim-line black leather attaché case she carried. References from previous employers attested to her good character and sense of responsibility. Trustworthy and reliable were tags that were repeatedly emphasised.

She was wearing her one good all-purpose black suit, having teamed a cherry red sweater with it since red was supposedly a power colour. Her hair was clean and shiny and as tidy as her curls ever allowed. Her make-up was minimal. She wore new stockings and sensibly heeled black court shoes.

There was nothing to object to about her appearance or preparation, so hopefully she would clinch a deal that would give her a more interesting and satisfying future than her current situation. Max Fairweather had told her this particular company matched investors to budding businesses. With luck, her bud of an idea could flower into a fleet of specialised taxis for transporting children.

Because of her fear of being rushed or late, it was barely nine o’clock when she stepped off the train. Since her appointment wasn’t until nine-thirty, she walked slowly along George Street, then up Market Street to the address Max had given her. It turned out to be a skyscraper with a very impressive facade of black granite and glass.

Big money here, Katie thought, even more determined to fight for the investment she needed. She took a deep breath and entered the huge lobby. The directory on the wall gave her destination as the eighteenth floor, with either elevator one or two providing an express ascent.

There were still ten minutes to go before her appointment. Reasoning that being overly punctual was not a black mark against her, and the company would surely have a reception area with chairs where she could sit and wait, she pressed the button to summon elevator two.

A few seconds later the doors opened…and shock rooted Katie’s feet to the floor.

Standing inside the compartment, directly facing her, was a man whose identity was unmistakable. She hadn’t seen him for almost ten years but she knew him instantly and her heart quivered from the impact he made on it.

Carver Dane.

Carver…who, in her heart of hearts, had been behind the pirate’s mask…a fantasy, stimulated by a host of frustrations and the wild and wanton desire to feel what she had once felt with him. The mask had let her pretend. The mask had made a dream briefly come true. But that was all it had been. A dream!

The man facing her was the real person!

Shock hit him, too. No doubt she was the last woman in the world he expected to see or wanted to meet. His facial muscles visibly tightened. There was a flare of some violent emotion in his eyes before they narrowed on her in a sharply guarded scrutiny that shot her nerves into a hopelessly agitated state.

Only a few nights ago she’d been fantasising about the intimacy they’d once shared. The raw sexuality she’d indulged in—with a masked stranger who’d strongly reminded her of Carver—suddenly flooded her with embarrassment. Here was her first and only love—in the flesh—and she simply wasn’t prepared to face him, especially when that memory was so fresh.

“Are you coming in, Katie, or would you prefer not to ride this elevator with me?” he asked.

“I…I was wondering if you were stepping out.”

“No.” His mouth curled into a sardonic little smile. “I’m on my way up.”

She flushed, painful old memories rushing over her embarrassment, making it more acute. The expensive suit Carver was wearing was evidence enough that his status had risen beyond anything her father had predicted, but what he was doing here Katie had no idea. While she wrestled with her inner confusion the elevator doors started to slide shut.

Carver reached out and pressed a button to reopen them. “Well?” he challenged, a savage glitter in his dark brown eyes.

A surge of pride got her feet moving. “I’m going up, too,” she declared, stepping into the compartment beside him. She was not her father’s little girl anymore. She was an independent woman, all primed to establish her own business, and she was not about to be intimidated by anything Carver could bring up against her.

He released the button holding the doors. As they closed her into sharing this horribly small space with Carver, Katie fiercely hoped the elevator lived up to its promise of being an express one. She couldn’t bear being with him for long, knowing they couldn’t ever be truly together, not how they’d once been.

“What floor do you want?” he asked.

“Eighteen.” It was easier to let him operate the control panel than lean across him and do it herself. “Thank you.”

“You’re looking good, Katie,” he remarked as the compartment started rising.

She flashed him an acknowledging glance. “So are you.”

“You’re back home with your father?”

“No. I’m on my own. How’s your mother?” she retaliated, burning with the memories of how each parent had played a critical part in breaking up the relationship they saw as destructive to the best future for Carver and Katie.

“She has to take it easy now. Not as well as she used to be.”

And probably plays that to the hilt, too, Katie thought bitterly. Lillian Dane would never give up her apron strings. She wondered how Carver’s wife coped with her mother-in-law, and was instantly prompted to add, “And your wife?”

The supposedly polite interest question was not immediately answered. The tension in the silence that followed it was suddenly crawling with all the conflicts left unresolved between them, and the string of circumstances that had kept the two of them apart, preventing any possible resolution.

Katie gritted her teeth as the memories flooded back—the pressures that had forced the break-up, the timing that had been wrong for them, even years later when Carver had come to England looking for her, just when she’d been between jobs and back-packing through Greece and Turkey…the letter he’d left, asking if there was any chance they could get together again, a letter she didn’t know about for six months…her phone-call, wild hope fluttering through her heart until the call was answered by his wife…then the confirmation from Carver himself that he was, indeed, married.

That was the cruellest cut of all!

Five years apart…then six months too late!

Though to be absolutely fair, maybe she’d read too much into his coming to London, too much into the letter, as well. It had only been an inquiry, not a promise. He might simply have wanted to put the memory of her to rest, and her apparent lack of response could well have effected that very outcome. She could hardly blame him for getting on with his life.

He wasn’t hers.

He’d never be hers again.

“My wife died two years ago.”

The flat statement from Carver rang in her ears, then slowly, excruciatingly, bounced around her mind, hitting a mass of raw places she didn’t want to look at. The sense of waste was totally devastating.

She wasn’t aware of the elevator coming to a halt.

She was blind to the doors opening.

It took Carver’s voice to jolt her out of it. “This is the eighteenth floor.”

“Oh! Sorry!” she babbled, and plunged out of the compartment, without even the presence of mind to say goodbye to him.

She found herself in a corridor with a blank wall at one end, glass doors at the other. Her legs automatically carried her towards the doors which had to lead somewhere. It wasn’t until Carver fell into step beside her that she realised he had followed her out of the elevator. She stopped, her head jerking towards him in startled inquiry.

“This is my floor, too,” he informed her, his eyes flashing derisively at her non-comprehension. “Are you seeing someone here?” he went on, moving ahead to open the way for her.

“Robert Freeman.” The name tripped out, though it was none of Carver’s business. “Are you seeing someone?”

He shook his head, holding one of the glass doors open and waving her through to what was obviously a reception area. “I work here, Katie,” he said quietly as she pushed herself into passing him.

Again her feet faltered, right in the doorway next to where he stood, shock and bewilderment causing her to pause and query this extraordinary statement. What did a doctor have to do with an investment company?

“You work…?” was as far as she got.

He bent his head closer to hers, murmuring, “I’m one of the partners… Andrews, Dane and Freeman.”

Not only was she stunned by this information, but she caught a light whiff of a scent that put all her senses on hyper-alert. Recognition of the distinctive male cologne was instant and so mind-blowing, she almost reeled away from it, barely recovering enough to hold her balance and move on into the reception area.

“How…how nice for you,” she somehow managed to mutter, though she was totally unable to meet his eyes.

He couldn’t have been the pirate, she frantically reasoned, but her gaze was drawn in terrible fascination to the mouth that now thinned at her lame response, and her heart was catapulting around her chest at the possibility that fantasy had crossed into reality.

It was the physical similarities that had got to her at the masked ball. Plus her own sexual response to them. But that didn’t make his identity certain. Far from it. Neither did the cologne. It was probably a popular brand bought and used by many men. She was not normally close enough to most men to notice a scent. It was silly to get so rattled by a coincidence that could be easily explained.

“Life does move on,” Carver remarked sardonically, responding to her inane “nice” comment.

“Yes, it does,” she quickly agreed, hating herself for being so hopelessly gauche.

He hadn’t become a doctor but he’d certainly moved up in the world, a long way up if this office building was anything to judge by. She didn’t understand why he hadn’t pursued a medical career, but he certainly had to have become a very successful businessman to be a partner here. His pride had surely been salved by such success. As for her pride…

Given the chance, would she have Carver back now that he was free again?

Could one ever go back?

He shut the glass door.

She screwed up her courage to look directly at him, to judge if there was anything left for them.

It was a futile effort.

“Laura will look after you,” he coolly instructed, gesturing towards the reception desk.

Having dismissed her into another’s hands, he turned aside and headed off down a corridor which ran off the reception area, striding fast as though he couldn’t wait to get away from her…like the pirate king after declaring the dance was over.

Katie stared after him, any thought of taking some positive initiative utterly wiped out by the comparison pounding through her mind.

Had it been Carver in the buccaneer costume? A widower, who walked alone, feeling the same compulsive physical attraction she had felt because the chemistry was still there for them? Always would be?

A convulsive shiver ran down her spine.

Even if it had been Carver, he’d made it plain he wanted nothing more to do with her…at least, not with the Carmen she’d been role-playing. He couldn’t have known who she really was.

But the man who’d accompanied her to this office floor did know the woman he’d just left, making it equally plain he was finished with her.

She watched him enter an office and disappear from view, heard the closing of the door behind him, and knew there was not going to be any comeback. He didn’t want any further involvement with her.

The dance was over.

It had been over for Katie Beaumont and Carver Dane years ago.

CHAPTER FOUR

ONCE inside the privacy of his office, Carver took several deep breaths, trying to clear the insidiously sexy aroma from his nostrils and haul his mind back from the chaos it had evoked.

It was definitely the same musky scent Carmen had worn… Carmen, so like Katie—her hair, her breasts, the whole feel of her, the intensity of her need for him.

Had it actually been Katie under that mask?

He shook his head, recoiling from the possibility and all it might mean, yet he couldn’t banish it. She was back in Sydney. She certainly had access to the high society crowd anytime she wanted to move into it. Her father’s connections and her old school network would open most doors. It could have been her.

The need to know drove him to the telephone on his desk. He snatched up the receiver, pressed the button to connect him to Robert Freeman and fiercely willed the other man to pick up. Instantly. Robert was the obvious conduit to immediate information about Katie Beaumont. She was here to see him. He had to know something.

“So how did the breakfast meeting go?” his partner inquired, not bothering with a greeting.

“As expected,” Carver answered briefly, too caught up in more urgent issues to go into detail. “I just rode up in the elevator with a Miss Beaumont. I understand you have an appointment with her this morning.”

“In five minutes. Some problem with it?”

“Do you know her personally?”

“Never met her. Comes with a recommendation from Max Fairweather. Wants to set up a business and needs cash.”

“Needs cash? From us?” Carver couldn’t stop his voice from rising incredulously. “Do you know who her father is?”

“Beaumont Retirement Villages. Max did mention it.”

“The guy is worth millions.”

“Uh-huh. Could be he disapproves of his daughter’s business plans.”

As well as her choice of men, Carver thought acidly.

“Very wealthy fathers can get too fond of flexing their power,” Robert went on. “We could reap some benefit here if the daughter is as smart as Daddy at capitalising on a customer need.”

“An interesting situation…” Carver mused, recalling Katie’s assertion she was on her own, not back with her father. She’d worked as a nanny in England in years gone by but what she had done with her life in more recent times was an absolute blank to him. It could be that everything she chose to do was an act of rebellion against her father…including sexual encounters where she took what she wanted…like Carmen.

Every muscle in his groin started tightening at the memory of her flagrant desire matching his. “Any chance of your passing her over to me, Robert,” he heard himself saying, not even pausing to consider the possible wisdom of staying clear of any involvement.

He’d once thought of Katie Beaumont as his. The temptation to re-examine the feelings that only she had ever drawn from him was too strong to let go. If she’d been behind the Carmen mask, they could still have something very powerful going between them. They weren’t so young anymore and the circumstances were very, very different.

“I’m clear for the rest of the morning,” he pressed, “and I must admit I’m curious to hear Miss Beaumont’s business plans.”

“Mmm…does she happen to be gorgeous?”

“You’re a married man, Robert,” Carver dryly reminded him, uncaring what his partner thought as long as he turned Katie over to him.

He laughed. “Just don’t be forgetting facts and figures in her undoubtedly delectable presence. Go to it, Carver. I’ll let Laura know to redirect the client to you.”

“I owe you one.”

“I’ll chalk it up.”

Done! He set the receiver down on its cradle, feeling a huge surge of satisfaction. Katie Beamont was his for the next hour or so. The only question was…how to play it to get what he wanted!

Katie was only too grateful that Robert Freeman was occupied on the telephone and not yet free to see her. She was far from being cool, calm and collected after the run-in with Carver Dane. Her focus on business was shot to pieces, and she was in desperate need of time to get her mind channelled towards her purpose in being here.

The shock of the link between Carver and the pirate king had left her shaky, too, forcefully reminding her of how terribly wanton she had been with the masked man. She had believed that secret was safe. And surely it was. It had to be. She was not normally a wild risk-taker. To have that kind of behaviour rebound on her now…here…no, she was getting in a stew over nothing. Even if Carver had been the buccaneer, he couldn’t know she had been Carmen.

It was good to sit down with the option of hopefully getting herself under control again. A few deep breaths helped. If she could just let the past go and concentrate on the future, managing this meeting shouldn’t be too difficult. Only the future counted now, she fiercely told herself, and neither Carver nor the pirate king held any part in that. She was on her own.

Definitely on her own.

She had to go into the meeting with Robert Freeman and prove an investment in her business would be worthwhile. All the necessary papers were in her attaché case. She simply had to pull them out and…

“Miss Beaumont?”

Katie’s heart leapt at the call from the receptionist, a pleasant young woman with a bright, friendly manner, obviously trained to put people at ease. She had auburn hair, cut in a short, chic style, and her navy suit, teamed with a patterned navy and white scarf knotted around her throat, looked very classy. The perfect frontline person for an investment company, Katie thought, and forced an inquiring smile.

Laura—that was the name Carver had given her—responded with an apologetic grimace. “I’m sorry. Mr. Freeman is tied up with some urgent business.”

“That’s okay. I don’t mind waiting,” Katie quickly inserted, relieved to be given more time to calm her nerves before she had to perform at her best.

“As it happens, that isn’t necessary, Miss Beaumont.” Her mouth moved into a conciliatory smile. “One of the other partners is free to take over your meeting with Mr. Freeman. In fact, you came in with him… Mr. Dane.”

“Mr.…Dane?” Katie could barely get the words out. Her tongue felt as paralysed as the rest of her at the thought of facing Carver across a desk, spilling out where she was in her life and asking him for money.

“He’s very experienced at assessing presentations,” Laura assured her. “Your time won’t be wasted with Mr. Dane, Miss Beaumont.”

“But I don’t mind waiting for Mr. Freeman. It’s no problem for me,” Katie babbled, unable to quell a rising whirl of hysteria.