Mistress & a Million Dollars / Satin & A Scandalous Affair: Mistress & a Million Dollars

Her heartbeat accelerated. “Don’t get too used to it.”

“That’s good. Because I kind of like that snappy Briana Davenport, too, remember.” He stood her inside the glass cubicle and picked up the soap. “And now, let’s see what type of fireworks we can make for ourselves tonight.”

She opened her mouth to jokingly point out that water would put out any fireworks, but his kiss stole her words away. Before too long she didn’t care anyway. She went up in flames first, then he joined her, and it proved one thing. They were combustible together, wet or not.

Afterward, he left her on the bed and walked out of the room with a towel wrapped around his hips, saying he’d be back shortly. Satiated but trying not to show it too much, Briana pulled the edge of the comforter over her nakedness. It was silly to even consider hiding her body, but she was still tingling from his touch. She had been putty in his hands. And that wasn’t good. Not good at all.

He was back in a few moments, carrying a woman’s robe. He came over to the bed and held it open for her, but she stared at the oyster-colored silk as if it carried the bubonic plague.

“Don’t worry. It’s new.”

“Order in a supply, did you?” she said, relieved not to be offered something worn by one of his previous lovers. Then she saw the label still attached to the sleeve. She glanced up at him. “This is one of the pieces you bought at the casino.”

“Yes.”

She almost said something about his getting his money’s worth, but she didn’t want to bring that up. Not right now. Not after he’d made such wonderful love to her. Besides, her brain was tired from fighting.

She let her mouth ease into a smile. “I hope you don’t plan on me wearing them all.”

A surprised glint of amusement appeared in his eyes. “That was my intention.”

“Good luck,” she quipped, throwing the cover aside in an attempt to be blasé. Then she got up and slipped into the robe. “You’re going to need it, mister.”

A moment’s silence met her ears, and she looked back at Jarrod behind her, only to find his eyes dark with desire.

He turned her in his arms to face him. “Lady, having you in that robe is all the luck I need,” he murmured huskily, his gaze raking down her bare skin exposed by the open gown, making slow warmth heat her cheeks.

“Um…what about the pizza?”

“They deliver late.”

He kissed her then and it turned her inside out, and soon he had slipped the robe back off her shoulders, slowly, slowly making love to her once more.

As Briana watched him enter her, she knew one thing. It was wonderful to be wanted by a man who wanted her. Not just Briana, the model.

Five

The sound of muffled voices out in the living room woke Briana the next morning, but it was the angry undertone in Jarrod’s voice that made her sit up and listen. She hadn’t quite heard that disdainful tone before. She’d been the recipient of his derision, but his voice held so much contempt she felt sorry for the other person.

“This is the last time, Anita,” he was saying now, in a firm tone that brooked no argument.

“How can you say that, Jarrod? I’m your mother,” a woman’s voice said tearfully, making Briana gasp.

“You are not my mother. My mother is back in New Zealand looking after my sick father.”

“And who gave you the opportunity to be a Hammond?” Anita said, her tone coldly unemotional now. “If it hadn’t been for me, you would never have been given that silver spoon in your mouth.”

He made a harsh sound. “Yes, I suppose that’s the only decent thing you ever gave me.”

“There you are, then. You should be grateful.”

“Anita, don’t pretend you gave me up for adoption for my sake. It was for you, and you alone.”

Briana was out of bed by this time and slipping into the silk robe, curious in spite of herself. She had to see what Jarrod’s real mother looked like.

“That may be so,” Anita was saying as Briana tiptoed up to the bedroom doorway. “But I need money, Jarrod, otherwise I’ll lose the house.”

“That’s not my concern,” he snapped, as Briana carefully peeked around the doorframe and saw a petite, well-dressed blonde facing her hostile son. But even from here, Briana could see the hardness in her face. It was written clearly in her eyes and in the tight way she held her mouth. This woman was out for all she could get.

“You can spare ten thousand dollars for a loan, Jarrod. You probably make that much money every time you go to sleep.”

“I work hard for my money. I invested it well.”

“We’re not all good money managers, son.”

“Don’t call me that,” he growled, then swore and strode over to his briefcase and took out his checkbook. “This is it, Anita. This is all you’re getting.” He quickly wrote out the check, then shoved it at her. “Now here. Take it. And don’t ever come back.”

The woman greedily snatched the check, read the amount, and her eyes widened with glee. She folded the paper and put it in her handbag. “I won’t come back. I promise.” A minute later, she left without a word of thanks, or regret, and Briana’s heart squeezed with hurt for Jarrod. He didn’t deserve a mother like that. No one did.

“You can come out now, Briana.”

She stepped away from the door with as much aplomb as she could. “How did you know I was there?” she asked, moving into the living room.

“I heard the swish of your walk.”

“Oh, you did not,” she chided, slightly embarrassed. He’d been much too busy with Anita.

“I did.” His eyes slid over her with lazy sensuality. “Like now.”

The arm of the sofa was close by, so she casually sat herself down on it, her knees weak. Then she took a breath and concentrated on the woman who had angered him so much. “She’ll come back, you know.”

All at once, he turned toward the patio door, but not before she’d seen the bleakness in his eyes. “Yes, I know.”

“Will you give her more money?”

His shoulders stiffened but he didn’t turn around. “No. She’s gotten enough out of me over the years.”

She soaked up this information as she considered the tense line of his back beneath the gray polo shirt and black trousers. His clothes may be casual but their quality wasn’t. Neither was the tumultuous feelings he must hold inside him.

“How long have you known her?” she asked, not sure he would share any information with her.

He remained where he was. Then, “Anita first came looking for money in my early twenties.”

Her heart softened with sympathy. How terrible that his mother had come looking for money, and not her son. “Does she come often?”

“She turns up every couple of years and asks for a ‘loan,’” he said, and this time he did spare her a look over his shoulder, his eyes filled with cynicism.

Briana stood up and went beside him. “You don’t owe her anything,” she said quietly.

“I know.”

She put her hand on his arm. “But I guess it’s hard to cut ties, no matter what she’s done to you.”

He glanced at her, put his hand over hers. “She never hesitated to give me up, you know,” he said, surprising her with the admission. “She told me so the first time I met her. She said she’d been young and single, and a baby would have tied her down, and she’d had no intention of giving up her freedom.”

Briana winced at the other woman’s insensitivity. She hated thinking how he must have felt when he discovered she had so easily given him away. Up until then he had probably given his mother an excuse, some leeway, as to why she’d given him up. But to face the reality that she just hadn’t wanted a baby, hadn’t wanted him, and worse, that she hadn’t cared, must have been a dreadful shock.

“She’s just selfish, Jarrod. Lots of single mothers keep their babies, even back then.”

He dropped his hand and turned to face her. “Exactly. If she’d given me up for me, then I could have forgiven her. But it was all for her.” His jaw clenched. “I was better off without her.”

“Absolutely.” She paused, not sure whether to ask or not. “What about your real father?”

He shrugged. “Apparently he died years ago.”

She arched a brow. “You were never curious about him?”

“No. Should I have been?” He grimaced. “Look, I was never curious about my birth parents. Never. I had a terrific upbringing and so did Matt. As far as I’m concerned, Katherine and Oliver Hammond are my real parents and Matt is my real brother.”

Her throat almost closed up for a moment. “Good for you,” she said huskily, and meant it. She was beginning to see a new side to the Hammond family that was no longer tarred by Marise’s somewhat sarcastic comments. Not that she hadn’t liked the Hammonds when she’d met them at Marise’s wedding and the few times since. Only, now she could see a different dimension to them, and she liked what she saw.

She gave a slight smile. “It may sound crazy, but when I first heard how Howard believed his kidnapped son was alive, I thought for a moment it might have been you.”

Jarrod snorted. “There’s a thought. Son to Anita Stirling or Howard Blackstone? What a choice!” He shook his head. “No, I’m afraid I’m not the missing heir to the Blackstone fortune. Thank God!”

Briana had to agree with him. He’d been adopted by the Hammonds, raised by the Hammonds—he was a Hammond. To find out he actually belonged to his family’s enemy would have been hard to take. And now that she knew how cruelly his mother had abandoned him, the blow would be doubly hard.

Not that he wouldn’t rise above it, she knew, admiration stirring inside her with a new understanding of this man.

He put his hand under her chin, and for one heart-stopping moment held her gaze. Then he leaned forward and kissed her softly on the lips.

“Thank you,” he said, lifting his head.

“For?”

“Listening. Understanding.”

Her stomach fluttered like a butterfly’s wings. “I’m told I have a good ear for listening.”

He lifted a finger and ran it around her ear. “They’re beautiful ears. Perfect.” He placed his lips against it, then gently tugged at her lobe with this teeth.

She groaned as his lips began making their way down her throat. “Um—weren’t we going to the—”

Where were they going?

Oh yes.

“—Moomba Festival?” she finished.

“After.”

“After?” she murmured.

“After we make love.”

Regardless of the way Jarrod made love to her—with a passion that hadn’t diminished despite the numerous times he’d taken her in the last thirty-six hours—Briana didn’t deceive herself that anything had changed.

And obviously he’d thought the same. He certainly seemed in a hurry to dress and leave the room afterward, saying he had some work to do before they went to the festival. That was probably so, but she suspected he needed some time to himself. It wasn’t every day a man like him let a woman see his vulnerable side.

Still, she was relieved he had put up that wall of reserve again. It made her remember that the only reason they were together right now was the money.

So why fool herself that what she knew about him now made any difference? His dislike of the woman he thought she was hadn’t changed. He still put her in the same category as Marise—and as his mother.

Having met the older woman, Briana felt doubly insulted. She got out of bed, showered and dressed in one of the outfits Jarrod had bought in the casino. It was either that or put on yesterday’s clothes.

Then she left the bedroom and poured herself a much-needed cup of coffee. She was standing with her back against the black granite counter and sipping the hot liquid when Jarrod spoke from the doorway.

“You look great.”

She glanced up into his approving gaze. “Thanks,” she said somewhat sourly.

“I mean it,” he said, obviously sensing her withdrawal.

“I know.”

“And?”

“What do you want me to say, Jarrod? That I’ve been waiting all my life for you to come along and tell me how wonderful I look?”

His forehead creased in a deep scowl. “What’s the matter with you?”

She took a deep breath and told herself to take things easy. Okay, so nothing had changed, but then had she really wanted it to? Besides, if he wanted to consider her a money-hungry gold-digger, then nothing she said or did would change his mind.

She pasted on a sickly sweet smile. “How can there be anything wrong when everything is so right?”

He shot her a wry look. “Yes, I can see that,” he mocked, but there was also a guarded look in his eyes, as if he suspected she was feeling hurt because he’d shut her out after they’d made love.

Well, she wasn’t.

She placed her cup on the sink and tried to sound casual as she said, “I know it’s out of our way, but can we go to my apartment first? I’d like to get my camera so I can take some pictures of the festival.”

His eyes gave a flicker of surprise. “I have a camera you can use.”

“No, that’s fine. I’d prefer to use my own camera. It’s a very expensive one.”

“And you think mine isn’t?”

She conceded the point. “A camera’s a rather—personal thing.”

He scrutinized her response. “I never thought of it that way.” Then studied her further. “You like taking pictures, do you?”

All at once she felt uncomfortable. “It’s a change from being on the other side of the lens.”

He stared hard for a moment longer. “Give me five minutes, then I’ll be ready to go,” he said, and turned and walked into his study.

An hour later, they’d found a good vantage point along Swanston Street. The Moomba Festival was Australia’s biggest community festival and a Melbourne tradition for over fifty years, with firework shows, outdoor movies, the Moomba parade and lots of water-related activities on the Yarra River.

The parade was the highlight of the Moomba Festival and Melbourne families turned out in droves, creating a sea of color and excitement.

The celebrations continued in Alexandra Gardens and along the riverfront, with live entertainment, roving performers and water sports. Briana strolled next to Jarrod, clicking her camera whenever she saw something of interest. She particularly liked taking pictures of people’s faces when they were unaware of it. She loved to capture the wondrous expression of a child watching a magician, or the parents watching that child with such love on their faces.

“Don’t you get sick of people looking at you?” Jarrod asked after she’d taken a picture of a group of people who’d kicked off their shoes and were having dancing lessons.

She looked at him, startled. “Do they? I hadn’t noticed.”

“Everyone’s recognizing you.”

“Maybe it’s the camera. Maybe they think I’m someone important.”

“You are someone important.”

She laughed that aside. “Only to my father.”

He looked at her a moment or two, a rare, soft light entering his eyes.

Her heart skipped a beat. “What’s the matter?”

“You are.”

“Why?”

He gave a slight smile. “Maybe one day I’ll tell you.”

Just then someone jostled them and the moment was broken. She quickly glanced down and pretended to check a setting on the camera, his comment reminding her there never was going to be a “one day” for them.

When she looked up again, she trained her camera on some children having their faces painted. The thought that she and Jarrod were going their separate ways at the end of the month brought an unwelcome lump to her throat. Yet she didn’t want to feel even the slightest bit miserable about that. So why did she?

“Do you like being a model?” Jarrod asked as they continued their stroll in the sunshine.

She stumbled a little and he put his hand out to steady her. “That’s an odd question.” She could feel his warm, firm touch through her sleeve. “Why do you ask?”

“You seem to have quite a talent behind the camera.”

She was surprised by his perception. “Thank you. I enjoy it.”

“Perhaps it’ll turn into more than a hobby.”

“Perhaps,” she agreed in a noncommittal voice, and moved to take another photograph, making Jarrod drop his hand from her arm. She felt awkward, being unused to sharing her dream with anyone. Not even Patrick had noticed her talent for taking pictures. He’d been too busy complaining she had been ignoring him.

Just then she spied a vendor selling hot dogs, and her stomach growled, reminding her she hadn’t eaten. “Hey, how about we get some hot dogs for lunch?”

“Pizza last night, hot dogs today. Sure you don’t want to go to a restaurant?”

“No, this is fine.” She glanced around. “Let’s grab some food and go sit on that bench down there on the riverbank.”

“Good idea.”

A few minutes later, Briana placed her camera on the bench between her and Jarrod to keep it safe, and then she began eating her hot dog.

“You look like you’re enjoying that,” Jarrod remarked.

She nodded. “I am.”

His eyebrow rose a fraction. “So you don’t watch your weight?”

“Of course I do, but sometimes I like to break out.” She prided herself on the fact that she wasn’t anorexic thin like some of the other models. “Still, in the last two days I’ve eaten enough junk food to last me six months.”

His gaze swept over her. “You’ve got the perfect figure.”

She wondered why she didn’t care about any other man’s compliment, but Jarrod’s stirred awareness inside her.

“Then maybe I should be the body of Blackstone’s,” she joked. “Perhaps I’ll even get them to include that in my next contract.”

A curious look came into his eyes. “So they’re offering you another contract, then?” he asked in a measured tone.

“I expect so.” Her forehead creased. “You sound surprised. Why?”

There was a short pause. “I thought with all the controversy lately, the Blackstones might—”

“Drop me like a hot potato?” she cut across him, stiffening.

He inclined his head. “Something like that.”

She suppressed a shiver, refusing to think right now about not being offered a new contract. So far no one had held Marise’s antics against her. “You may not have noticed, but I was at Kim Blackstone’s wedding. I’d like to think that was a good sign.”

“Oh, I noticed,” he drawled, a sexy timbre to his voice. “And yes, definitely a good sign.”

Still, she needed to reiterate something. “Jarrod, as much as you don’t like the Blackstones, they are

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