At His Service: Millionaire's Mistress. Kelly HunterЧитать онлайн книгу.
charade.
She felt him shift again, then he tilted her face to his. In his eyes something flickered and sent her pulse scrambling. ‘Didi, how do you feel about extending this arrangement a little longer? Say, two and a half weeks?’
‘What do you mean?’ She tried to keep her voice even, her expression neutral.
But she knew what he meant and blood pounded through her veins. A ball of fire lodged behind her breastbone, shooting flares up and down the length of her body.
He wanted her, here. In this bed. And she didn’t need rocket science to work it out.
If she wanted, for two and a half weeks she could be Cameron Black’s live-in mistress.
CHAPTER EIGHT
DIDI backed up on the mattress towards the edge of the bed, holding the sheet in front of her breasts, her gaze scouring the room. Better, she thought, to look for something to cover herself than to look him in the eye because one glance at her response and he’d know the effect he’d had on her. And that would be a distinct disadvantage.
So he’d used the word ‘lover’ in this morning’s conversation—now he was suggesting an ‘arrangement’. And suggesting amazingly coolly for something as hot as an affair with Cameron Black would be. Too coolly. As if he were negotiating one of his property deals.
‘You know exactly what I mean,’ he murmured. ‘What do you say?’ His tone told her he expected an affirmative answer.
And how easy would it be—mistress to a millionaire, a heap of money in commissions? She’d walk away richer at the end. Ah, but would she still be happy when she walked away? Better, safer, to stick to their original agreement.
‘I … don’t think so,’ she said. Pleased with how calm she sounded even if she was coming apart inside, still avoiding eye contact. Still feeling vulnerable. ‘Um … do you have a bathrobe I can put on?’
With that same cool confidence he padded naked to the bathroom, plucked a terry robe from behind the door. Ah, and she couldn’t help but look, could she? But it didn’t seem to faze him—nor the fact that he was in a state of semi-arousal. No, well, it was that male pride thing, obviously.
He tossed her the robe on his way back and retrieved last night’s discarded trousers from the floor. He didn’t bother with underwear. He came around to her side of the bed. Her body hummed as remnants of last night’s electricity arced between them. Then he ran a thumb over her lower lip. ‘So … you don’t think so, huh?’
She jerked as if that electricity had zapped her. ‘I told you last night, I don’t like your type.’ To put on the robe she had to let go of the sheet … She closed her eyes so she couldn’t see him watching her and slipped her arms inside. Rising, she moved to the window and watched the morning traffic build.
‘No,’ he said behind her. ‘Last night you said you didn’t like me. There’s a difference. Tell me more about my type.’
‘I’ve told you before …’ She trailed off as she tightened the sash, aware of the robe’s familiar soap scent enveloping her. Cameron’s scent.
Her opinion of the type of man he was had changed since that first night. She’d seen a different side of him: a caring, thoughtful man who’d trusted her with a large sum of cash and allowed her to stay in his apartment—and look what she’d done to repay him. She’d brought in an uninvited guest last night and she’d barely scratched the canvas she’d promised she’d start.
Still, she didn’t have to like him on principle, she decided, hugging her arms around her. With his million-dollar lifestyle and Italian-made suits. She might have had a similar upbringing but she’d always been aware of the poverty never far from her door.
It was a long way from his.
She’d decided it was easier and less complicated to not like him … except now it was too late for easy and it had just got a whole lot more complicated.
She’d had sex with him.
‘Didi,’ he said behind her. ‘Regardless of my type, why stop at one night when there’s clearly a chemistry between us we could explore further?’
She could feel that simmering chemistry from half a dozen steps away. How could he feel so hot yet sound so cool? Nor did she need any further investigation. She already knew his was the kind of love-making that burned all the way through and left a brand on your heart and a glow on your skin.
Only if you let it.
‘As I said last night we have a working relationship,’ she said. ‘And in three weeks we won’t even have that.’
‘So we lay some ground rules.’ He planted an open-mouthed kiss on the back of her neck. Another on the soft flesh between neck and shoulder. Then steadied her with his hands as he turned her to face him.
‘Ground rules …?’ Her heart was pumping so hard she wondered it didn’t explode out of her chest.
‘You work here during the day and I work at the office.’
‘And nights …?’
‘We explore what we have in common.’ The glitter in his eyes didn’t need clarification. It was all about the sex and they both knew it.
‘And when the time’s up I walk away, no complications on either side.’
‘Exactly.’
Like a business transaction. ‘That’s plain enough.’ She stepped away from him again and began picking up her clothes from where she’d dropped them at the bottom of the bed last night.
What did she expect? She’d flirted with him, pushed his buttons, got him to play along with this crazy idea of convincing her sister he was her lover.
‘You don’t seem too thrilled about it.’
She flashed him a glare over her shoulder as she picked her T-shirt up off the floor. ‘Should I be?’
‘You liked it well enough last night. Didi.’ His voice softened. ‘What happened with your last guy won’t happen with us because we both know up front what we’re getting into. So long as we have mutual respect and understanding.’
She straightened and forced herself to look at him.
‘And I’ll include other benefits, of course.’
‘Other benefits?’
‘I attend a lot of charity events; some are quite formal affairs where a partner is expected. If we go out in the evening, I’ll pay any expenses, clothes, salon procedures et cetera.’
‘You mean you want me to accompany you? To functions where you’re exhibiting your next property development?’ She scoffed. ‘Like, I’m on the other side of the fence—how could I do that with a clear conscience?’
A look she couldn’t interpret crossed his face. ‘You’re not as far away from my side as you think, Didi.’ He scratched his chin. ‘The alternative would be for me to chaperone some other woman and I don’t think that arrangement would work.’
The thought of him with some other woman while she sat in his apartment working her fingers to the bone poured acid on her empty stomach, but she remembered, ‘Did you forget I may need to work through evenings?’
He shook his head. ‘Not every evening, Didi. You’ll need some down-time. I’m the last person who’d want to compromise your creativity. And I’ll ensure it’s not something you wouldn’t feel comfortable attending before I accept.’
She couldn’t look at him while she made her decision so she studied the pile of clothes in her hand. She’d have to be very, very careful not to let herself fall for him. Because she would not go through that kind of pain again.
She