More Than a Mistress

by Sandra Marton

  He wouldn’t touch her, though. Not yet. She was so soundly asleep.

  But he could look.

  Slowly, carefully, inch by tantalizing inch, he drew down the blanket that covered them.

  How beautiful his Princess was.

  The soft curve of her shoulder. The roundness of her arm. The fullness of her breasts and the curve of her hip…

  The sweet, honeyed taste of her, against his seeking mouth.

  His seeking mouth.

  Travis rolled closer and kissed her throat. He kissed her shoulder, nuzzled her underarm. He stroked his hand gently along her until she sighed, rolled onto her back…

  And awakened.

  He watched her, knew the exact second she remembered where she was and what had happened. Would she regret it? Would she turn to ice, as she had the last time she’d awakened in his arms?

  He waited, poised above her, for the first time in his life anticipating, and dreading, a woman’s rejection.

  If she tried to toss him out this time, he’d go without a word. Hell, no. He wouldn’t do that. If she tried to toss him out, he’d pin her to the bed, kiss her until she admitted the truth, that she wanted him now, that she’d wanted him then…

  A radiant smile curved Alex’s lips.

  “Good morning,” she said, and held up her arms.

  Travis went into them like a man returning home.

  * * *

  They drove back to the vineyard, this time walking through the endless rows of grapes with their arms around each other.

  “I love it here,” Alex said softly.

  Travis looked down at the bright head nestled against his shoulder and smiled. “Then why are you selling it?”

  She sighed and shrugged her shoulders. “Peregrine loses money, year after year.”

  “Well, of course it does.”

  Alex laughed, drew away from Travis’s encircling arm and plucked a leaf from a vine.

  “I know this may astound you, Mr. Baron, but a property is supposed to make money.”

  “This isn’t a property, Ms. Thorpe. It’s a philosophy.”

  “A philosophy,” Alex deadpanned, stepping out in front of him. “Well, that explains it. I mean, all this time, my lawyers and accountants have been thinking it’s a winery.”

  Travis grinned, grabbed her by the waist and spun her around.

  “Growing grapes, making wine—it’s a mystical experience, Princess.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Go on, scoff. I’m telling you the truth.”

  “So, in other words, if I light some incense, sacrifice a couple of chickens, maybe dance around a tree, naked, on a moonlit night…”

  “I like the dancing naked part.” Travis put his hand under her chin, tilted her mouth to his and kissed her tenderly. “But no, I didn’t mean that kind of mystical experience. See, you have to love the whole wine-making gestalt.”

  “The gestalt,” Alex said solemnly. “I don’t know…is that anything like goulash? Because I have to tell you, Travis, I really don’t like—”

  She squealed as he dragged her into his arms and kissed her.

  “Wine-making,” he growled, “is best done by those who are willing to break their backs in the fields and empty their bank accounts just so they can someday point to a bottle of twenty-dollar vino and proudly say, ‘There it is—and it only cost me fifty bucks to produce.’” He smiled. “In other words, you have to be nuts to go into this business.”

  Alex smiled into Travis’s eyes, rose toward him and placed her hands on either side of his face.

  “Nuts, like you?”

  He caught her hand, brought it to his lips and kissed the palm.

  “I’ve thought about it,” he admitted.

  “But?”

  “But, I have a law practice, and a life four hundred miles south of wine country. Plus, establishing a winery with a vintage good enough to make it profitable takes years.” He linked his fingers through hers and they started walking. “Like the grapes, you have to settle in, put down roots, commit yourself to making it all work…”

  “Sounds a lot like marriage,” Alex said lightly.

  A muscle knotted in Travis’s jaw. “Yeah. Yeah, I suppose it does.” His hand tightened on hers. “And I’ve already gone that route, Princess. Settling down, marriage…It didn’t work. Heck, it doesn’t seem to work very well for any of the Baron clan.”

  “I’m not sure it works for anybody.” Alex raised her eyes to his. “I’m not looking for marriage,” she said bluntly, “if that’s what you’re asking. My mother was unhappy with my father, right up until the day she died. And my marriage…well, you already know about that.” She took a deep breath. “I was an obedient daughter, and belonged to my father. Then I was a dutiful wife, and belonged to my husband. Now, I don’t want to belong to anybody but myself.”

  Travis nodded, reached out and tucked a flyaway strand of hair behind her ear.

  “That sounds perfect, Princess. And I’m glad we got it all out of the way, right upfront.”

  They smiled at each other and then Travis cleared his throat. “So,” he said briskly, “did I happen to mention I flew my own plane here, from L.A.?”

  “No,” Alex said, just as briskly, “no, you didn’t. You mean, that Porsche isn’t yours?”

  He grinned. “You’d be amazed how hospitable a dealer can be when he knows a guy’s a sucker for every new Porsche that comes blowing into town. What do you say, Princess? Will you trust yourself to me for the flight home?”

  She smiled. “Absolutely.”

  Travis smiled, too. How lucky could a man get? He’d found a beautiful, wonderful woman, one who pleased him more than any other he’d ever known. And she’d made it clear that she didn’t want to smell orange blossoms, or hear wedding bells…

  “Come here,” he said gruffly.

  He gathered her into his arms and kissed her…and tried not to let it trouble him that she’d basically just told him she was more willing to trust him with her life than with her heart.

  CHAPTER TEN

  TRAVIS had been flying his own plane since he was a kid.

  So had all the Barons. Espada sprawled over so many thousands of acres that there were times it made more sense to cross it by plane than by horse or Jeep.

  He loved to fly, loved the freedom he found in the air. But he’d never enjoyed it as much as he did on the trip back to Los Angeles.

  And it was all because of Alex.

  He could tell that she was a little nervous, when she first climbed into the Comanche.

  “It’s smaller than I’d expected,” she said, flashing him a quick smile as she secured her seat belt.

  Travis looked around as if he’d never seen his plane before. Compared to the Ultra-Light he and the rest of the Los Lobos gang had built the summer he was fifteen, the four-passenger Comanche was downright enormous. On the other hand, he figured it might seem a bit cramped if a person had only flown in the first-class compartment of a jumbo jet.

  “It’s not too late to change your mind, Princess,” he said.

  Alex shook her head. “Oh, no!” She looked at him, and he marveled at the rosy flush of pleasure in her cheeks. “I want to try everything, Travis, all the things people said were inappropriate.” She laughed. “Even the things I said were inappropriate.”

  He grinned. “Like what?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Everything. Eating a hot dog bought from a pushcart.”

  “Ah. Definitely a gourmet experience, not to be missed.”

  “Go on, laugh. But it’s something I always wanted to do.”

  “I am not laughing, Princess.” Travis grinned. “Why would a guy laugh, when he finds out his woman would rather have him spring for a two-buck hot dog than a two-hundred-dollar meal at the latest bistro?”

  “Is that what I am?” Alex said, her color deepening. “Your—your woman?”

  “Yes.” His smile tilted. “I know what you said—what we both said—about not gett
ing tied down, about not wanting commitment, but while you’re with me—”

  “For as long as it lasts, you mean.”

  “That’s right. For as long as it lasts, you’re mine.”

  The angle of his jaw dared her to argue. What would he do if she did? If she said, I’ll sleep with as many men as I want…

  Except, it would be a lie. How could she want any man, after Travis? How could she ever want…

  “Alex? If you don’t like the ground rules, tell me. Because I don’t share.” His voice roughened as their eyes met. “You see only me. You sleep only with me.”

  “Are the rules the same for you?”

  His mouth twisted. “Yes.”

  She nodded. “All right.”

  “Okay, then. That’s settled.” A minute went by, and then Travis cleared his throat. “So, what else is on this Wish List of yours, Princess?”

  She smiled. “Oh, lots of other dumb things.”

  “For instance?”

  “Well…driving a car like your Porsche.”

  “Aha. The lady has a hankerin’ to put the pedal to the metal, hmm?”

  “I had a little convertible once,” she said dreamily. “A red one…”

  “And?”

  Alex gave herself a brisk shake. “This is silly. I’m a grown woman, Travis. These are childhood wishes—”

  He reached across the seat and took her hand. “My very first car was a red convertible.”

  She looked at him. “Really?”

  “Uh-huh. It was a Mustang, so old it was damn near an antique.” He flashed her a quick smile. “Took me a whole year of savin’ up to buy it, too. What I got paid for workin’ the barns. Rodeo money—”

  “Rodeo…?” Alex laughed. “I was right! You are a cowboy.”

  “I rode bulls.” He squeezed her hand, took his away and laid it back on the Comanche’s yoke. “I had some crazy dream of becoming champion.”

  “Whoops,” she said, “there’s got to be a lawyer joke here somewhere. Like, it takes a lawyer to turn a bull into a steer…”

  “Very funny,” Travis said wryly. “What happened was, my second time out, I got two ribs busted and my nose broke. So I decided maybe there was a better way of making a dollar than getting my neck broke.”

  Alex clasped her hands in her lap. “Ah.”

  “Ah, what?”

  “That explains the nose. I wondered how that had happened.”

  “Uh-huh.” Travis touched his finger to the bump. “I was gonna have it fixed but Catie said—”

  “Catie?”

  “My stepsister. She said it would drive the girls wild.” He chuckled. “So I let it alone.”

  Alex smiled. “Well, I’m glad you listened to Catie. She was right.”

  “Was she, now?”

  “Stop fishing for compliments, Mr. Baron.”

  Travis laughed, reached for Alex’s hand and brought it to his lips. “Okay, darlin’. Now you know I was once crazy enough to think I could be a bull rider. And that I had me a red Mustang.”

  “I love it when you lapse back into that drawl of yours.”

  “Me? Drawl? Why, darlin’, whatever do y’all mean by that?” He smiled. “You going to tell me what else is on that list of yours, or do I have to guess?”

  Alex sighed. “Honestly, it’s all so silly…Okay. I always wanted to drive a fast car. And ride a roller coaster. Oh, and walk in the rain.”

  “You’ve never walked in the rain?”

  “Not barefoot. Not without an umbrella. Not with my face turned up to the drops.” She gave a little laugh. “I must sound like an idiot.”

  “You sound like a woman who’s fallen into exactly the right hands, Ms. Thorpe,” Travis said solemnly. “Here, right beside you, is a man who hates shoes—”

  “That’s because he prefers boots.”

  “Well, yeah.” He chuckled. “But not on the beach, where I live.”

  “You live on the beach?”

  “Uh-huh. I have a house at Malibu.”

  “Oh, that must be wonderful. The sea, the sand, the sky…”

  “Now you’re going to tell me you’ve never been to the beach,” Travis said, with a little smile.

  “Of course I’ve been to the beach. San Tropez. Martinique…”

  “What about right here, in southern California?”

  “The truth?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  She laughed. “Never.”

  “Never? As in, not even once?”

  “No. Carl and my father both thought too many liberal Hollywood-types owned houses on those beaches.”

  Travis shook his head. “What a deprived childhood you had, Ms. Thorpe! No wading in the water. No walking in the rain. No roller coasters or chili dogs…”

  “Chili dogs?”

  “Trust me on this, darlin’. A naked hot dog’s nothin’, compared to a chili…” Travis paused and pressed a button on the yoke. “Piper five-eight foxtrot.” His voice was suddenly brisk, his tone all business. “Roger. Traffic left to right, across my heading.”

  Alex sat back, watching with fascination as Travis scanned the sky around them. He had so many faces—it amazed her, how readily she’d written him off that first night, that first weekend. Had she been afraid of letting herself see the real man? No. That was silly. Why would she have done that? The real man was the one she’d been searching for, when she’d gone into the auction on Friday night.

  She’d wanted someone to teach her what sex was really like, and she’d found him. She’d wanted a lover women dream about—a lover she’d dreamed about, and she’d found that, too. Travis had awakened her to passion. She’d become a different woman, in his strong arms. And, when their affair ended, she’d walk away, head high.

  She’d gone into this with her eyes open, not wanting a fairy-tale ending but her own identity. Her independence. She had a lot of years to make up for. The last thing she wanted was a man who’d demand things of her—aside from the pleasure she brought him in bed.

  And she had brought him that pleasure. The things he’d whispered to her, the ways he’d touched her…oh yes, she’d made him happy, in bed.

  But he wouldn’t ask for more than that. Well, good. That was how she wanted it. It was exactly how she wanted it. She wanted a lover, in this new existence of hers, not a man interested in forever after.

  She wanted Travis, just as he was.

  Of course she did, Alex thought, and turned her face blindly to the window as the Comanche soared through the sky.

  * * *

  “I didn’t mean we had to do it all tonight,” Alex said, as she stared up at the huge steel structure that rose in stomach-bending loops, high above the Magic Mountain Amusement Park.

  Travis clasped her hand in his. “We aren’t,” he said lazily. “So far, all we’ve done is have hot dogs—”

  “Chili dogs,” Alex said, and smiled. “Fantastic!”

  “See what I mean, darlin’? You have to trust me. I said you’d love ’em, and you did.” He jerked his head toward the ’coaster. “And you’re gonna love that, too. Unless, of course, you’ve changed your mind.”

  “Just listen to you, Cowboy.” Alex laughed. “You’re trying to sweet-talk me into getting on that thing.”

  “I am, for a fact.” Travis put his hand under her chin and tipped her face to his. “I won’t let anything happen to you, Princess.” He bent to her and brushed his mouth over hers. “I’ll hold on to you, tight, all the way down.”

  She smiled into his eyes. “You promise?”

  “Cross my heart.” He drew her closer and kissed her, long and sweet. “I’ll always take care of you, Alex,” he said softly. “Always.”

  No, she thought, no, he wouldn’t.

  Her vision blurred again, the same as it had when they’d left the airport. But she managed to smile and kiss him back.

  “In that case, Mr. Baron,” she said lightly, “lead on.”

  But, once on the roller coaster, Alex screamed.
<
br />   She shrieked.

  She clung to Travis and swore she was going to die.

  And, when the ride ended, she dragged him to the end of the queue and made him take her up again.

  Travis figured she’d have begged for a third ride, if he hadn’t diverted her attention by asking her if she’d ever tasted cotton candy.

  “What’s cotton candy?” she asked, wide-eyed.

  He bought her a giant-size cone that had been dipped in what might have been endless yards of pink spun sugar. She tasted it cautiously, testing it with the tip of a tongue as pink as the candy. Travis felt his body clench as he watched her. A need so fierce it frightened him swept through his blood. He wanted to gather her into his arms, carry her away from the noise and the people, take her to some quiet place where only the moon and the stars would look down on them as they made love.

  “Oh,” Alex said, “Travis, this is wonderful!”

  He looked at her, at her smiling face and her sugar-studded lips.

  “Wonderful,” he said, in soft agreement, and he bent to her and touched his mouth to hers, drinking in the sweetness of the sugar and the sweetness that was uniquely Alex. “Wonderful,” he whispered, and he drew her into the shadows and into his embrace.

  Her arms went up and encircled his neck.

  “Travis,” she said, her voice trembling.

  “Yes, Princess,” he murmured, “yes, I know.”

  He didn’t know. He couldn’t. She didn’t know, herself, couldn’t imagine why her heart was racing. Why she suddenly wished they were alone, under the star-filled sky. So he could make love to her, yes, but for more than that. Oh, for so much more…

  Travis cupped her face in his hands. He kissed her, gently at first, then with growing passion.

  The cotton candy cone drooped from her fingers.

  “Princess,” he whispered. “Come home with me.”

  “Yes.” Her eyes were bright as they met his. “Oh, yes.”

  He drove quickly through the night, yearning to touch her but wanting, needing, the sweet pain of anticipation.

  He wanted her now, so badly that the thought of it nearly made him dizzy, the need for her curling through his blood like an aphrodisiac. And he could tell, by the way she’d trembled when he’d kissed her, that she wanted him the same way.