More Than a Mistress

by Sandra Marton

  “Then why—I mean, what—”

  “I told you. I panicked.” His scowl deepened. “Listen, you think it’s easy for me to say this, Princess? I’ll tell you right now, it’s not.”

  “To say what? I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about.”

  “I have no intention of getting into any kind of permanent relationship here. I told you that, straight out.”

  Her heart skipped a beat. Was he going to tell her he’d changed his mind? Not that she wanted him to. Those few seconds of craziness this morning, when she might have, were mercifully past.

  “I know you did,” she said carefully. “And I told you the same thing.”

  “Exactly. Still, there we were, planning our day together.”

  Alex looked even more confused. “Are you telling me you never spend the daylight hours with the women you sleep with?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous! Of course I do. It’s just that—that…

  It’s just that what, Baron? That you never really wanted to, until now? That the thought of teaching this woman to handle a fast car, or to eat chili dogs and ride roller coasters, gives you more pleasure than anything you’ve done in your entire life?

  Panic swept over him, like a rogue wave rolling in across the ocean and threatening to forever change the landscape.

  “It’s just that I didn’t want to have to hurt you by telling you not to get the wrong idea.”

  “About what?”

  Why was she making this so difficult?

  “About something happening here. Between us, I mean. Because—because it isn’t.”

  “My oh my,” Alex said sweetly. “You do think a lot of yourself, Cowboy.”

  “I want to go on seeing you, Alex.” A muscle knotted in his cheek. “But I’m not going to put down stakes, or roots, or whatever it is women want me to put down. Is that clear?”

  Alex raised one eyebrow. “Excuse me,” she said coolly, “but I don’t recall exhibiting any interest in you as a gardener.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “I do, indeed. And didn’t you hear me make a similar statement just yesterday?”

  “Yeah.” The muscle in his cheek danced again. “But that didn’t stop you from going along with the plans I was making for today.”

  Alex laughed. “I don’t know which is worse, Travis, your oversize ego or your lamebrained way of looking at things.” She stepped forward, her smile turning into a scowl, her index finger aimed at the center of his chest. “You made the plans. I went along with them out of politeness. Do you really think that means I was trying to dig a hole for those roots you don’t want to plant?”

  Two bands of red feathered along his cheekbones.

  “I didn’t say that, exactly.”

  “No?” Alex flashed her brightest smile. “What did you say, exactly?”

  “Just that—that we don’t want to let this thing get out of hand.”

  “Our affair, you mean.”

  “Yes. Our—our…” Why was the word so hard to say? The Princess wasn’t having a problem with it. She wasn’t having a problem with any of this. She was ready, willing and downright eager to have the kind of easy come, easy go relationship he always wanted with a woman and rarely found—in which case, why was he feeling so damned ticked off? “Our affair,” he said, finally.

  She nodded her agreement, but a sudden weariness seemed to settle over her. All she wanted to do was go home, take a long, hot bath and try to get her life back on track. Because it wasn’t on track; it hadn’t been, since the night of the auction.

  “Actually,” she said softly. “Actually, I think—I think we should end this.”

  “End what?”

  “This—whatever you want to call this relation—”

  She gasped as Travis hauled her into his arms and crushed her mouth under his.

  “It’ll be over when it’s over,” he whispered, against her lips. “You got that, Princess?”

  She knew the right thing to do was tell him that she didn’t take orders from men anymore, especially ones who were arrogant, egocentric and unremittingly macho…but his mouth was on hers again, his arms held her tight, and, with a soft moan of surrender, she gave herself up to the kiss.

  After a long time, he lifted his head and smiled.

  “Now,” he said smugly, “how about lesson number one on the Porsche?”

  Alex frowned. “But you said—”

  “Yeah, but we straightened all that out.” He grinned. “So, what do you say? You want to take the wheel or not?”

  Tell him no, Alex thought. Say, thank you, Travis, but you were right. We should maintain our perspective, keep some distance. After all, she’d spent yesterday with him, and the day before. Did she want to be with him, again?

  “Princess?”

  She looked up into those deep green eyes and her heart turned over.

  “I’d love to,” she said, and he smiled.

  * * *

  Alex stepped on the pedal as Travis’s car flew up toward the lip of Eagle Canyon.

  “Easy,” Travis said. “Princess, hey, slow down, will you? Those look like some pretty tight turns up ahead.” He groaned, pretended to shut his eyes as she laughed and whipped through them. “Lord, I’ve created a monster!”

  “Oh, damn.”

  “What?”

  “The gate’s just ahead, and it’s closed. I’ll have to stop and punch in the code.”

  “Thank goodness,” Travis breathed, but he was grinning.

  Once through the gate, Alex accelerated again. She brought the car to a squealing stop in front of Thorpe House and turned toward Travis.

  “Well?”

  He looked at her. They’d driven with the windows open and the wind had tousled her hair. He hadn’t given her time to put on any makeup, so the color in her face came from excitement. And she was wearing an old T-shirt of his along with a washed out pair of his jeans, the cuffs rolled to mid-calf. She was, in other words, a rumpled mess…and she was so beautiful that it made him ache just to see her.

  “Travis?” She laughed and tossed back a strand of hair that had fallen over her cheek. “Don’t tell me my driving was so awful that it left you speechless!”

  “Well,” he said, “I don’t think Michael Andretti has anything to worry about, just yet…” He grinned when she made a face. “Okay, okay. The truth is, you weren’t bad.”

  “The truth is, I was terrific!”

  “Yeah, you were pretty good.”

  “I was great!”

  Travis laughed, leaned forward and brushed his mouth lightly over hers. “Another couple of lessons, you’ll be ready to go out and buy yourself a red convertible.”

  They smiled at each other and then Alex cleared her throat. “Well…”

  “Well.”

  “Thank you for a wonderful day.”

  “You’re welcome.” He curved his hand around her jaw, bent to her and kissed her again, lingering over the shape and taste of her mouth. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  “No,” she said quickly. “I, ah, I have things to do tomorrow.”

  He drew back and smiled politely. “Of course. Actually, so have I. How about dinner tomorrow evening?”

  “Call me,” she said brightly. “And we’ll see.”

  She reached for the door and he reached for her, the pressure of his hand viselike. “Don’t play games with me, Alex.”

  She looked at him. “Games?”

  “And don’t play dumb, either. I told you yesterday, I don’t share.”

  “Yes.” Her smile was quick. “Yes, you did. While it lasts, you said, you’ll be faithful to me.”

  “And I expect the same of you.”

  “Certainly. It’s just that I do have a life of my own, Travis. You reminded me of that this morning. And I’m glad you did.”

  His eyes darkened. “You mean that, don’t you.”

  It wasn’t a question, not the way he said it. But she did mean it. Of course, she mea
nt it…

  A lump formed in her throat. She swallowed once, twice, then pasted a smile to her lips.

  “Yes. Yes, I do. I told you, Travis, I want to enjoy my freedom.”

  “Fine.” The muscle in his cheek ticked as he slid behind the wheel, then slammed the door. “I’ll pick you up at seven tomorrow evening.”

  “But I asked you to call me first.”

  Her protest came too late. Travis had already put the car in gear and roared away. She stood looking after him until nothing remained but plumes of dust. Then she sighed and climbed the steps to the house.

  * * *

  He came for her, every evening. Drove her home, in the small hours of each following morning, as if they’d never discussed not spending all their time together. They were together weekends, too, at Malibu—except for the weekend they flew up to the Napa Valley and walked the vineyards at Peregrine.

  “I’ve given my approval to the sale,” Alex said, as they sat on the steps of the veranda of the big Victorian house on the hill. “You can tell your father Peregrine is his, whenever he wants it.”

  “Fine,” Travis said, lifting her fingers to his lips. He smiled at her, rose to his feet and tugged her up beside him. “I made reservations at that inn on the coast.”

  “Mmm.” Alex winced.

  “What’s the matter, Princess?”

  “Headache,” she said, then smiled. “I’ll be fine, as soon as we reach the inn. Staying there sounds wonderful.”

  It would have been, but by early evening, she felt exhausted. By nightfall, her teeth were chattering and her bones ached. And by morning, she had a fever of 102.

  Over her protests, Travis phoned for a doctor.

  “Flu,” the doctor said matter-of-factly. “It’s going around. She needs rest, plenty of liquids, aspirin…”

  Alex moaned, sat up and tried to get out of bed. Travis put his arm around her.

  “Going to be sick,” she whimpered.

  “Not without me,” he said, and carried her to the bathroom.

  To her dismay, he stayed with her, supported her while she retched, gently wiped her face with a cool, wet cloth and carried her back to bed.

  “As I was saying,” the doctor continued, “she needs rest, liquids, aspirin for the fever, light foods when her stomach can hold them. She’ll be fine in a few days.”

  Travis looked at Alex. “What can I do to make you feel better, darlin’?”

  “You can take me home,” she whispered. “As nice as this place is, I’d really rather be sick in familiar surroundings.”

  Travis looked at the doctor. “We live in Malibu, but we came by plane. Can I fly her home?”

  “I don’t live in Malibu,” Alex said wearily, “I live in—”

  “Sure,” the doctor said. “I’ll give her something to control the nausea, you get that fever down with the aspirin, wrap her up in blankets, and you can take her to Malibu.”

  “But I don’t live in—”

  “Shut up,” Travis said gently, and then he smiled and shook the doctor’s hand. “Thanks, Doc.”

  “No problem.” The doctor grinned. “Just be sure and take a bucket with you, just in case.”

  * * *

  Alex said she felt like a Red Cross package.

  Travis said she looked like a disaster area.

  But he said it tenderly, as he strapped her into the seat beside him in the Comanche. She did, too. Her face was pale, her eyes huge and dark. Her hair was lank, after two days without shampooing, and the bucket she held clutched in her lap didn’t do much to improve the picture.

  She looked tired and ill and fragile, and in that moment, he knew that he felt something for this woman he had never felt before.

  It scared the hell out of him.

  “What?” she said, as a furrow appeared between his eyes.

  “Nothing,” he said briskly, and turned his attention to the plane.

  * * *

  She was sick for five days.

  She threw up. She sweated. She moaned. She shivered.

  And Travis took care of her.

  He held her head when she was sick, bathed her when she was hot. He soothed her when she moaned and warmed her with his body when she shivered. And then, on the morning of the sixth day, Alex woke up, stretched, yawned—and announced that she could eat a horse.

  Travis sat up, too. “Does that mean you’re feeling better?” he said, with a hopeful smile.

  She grinned. “I feel wonderful.” Her grin faded. “Were you here, all the time? Or did I dream it?”

  “Well,” he said modestly, “not all the time. I took five minutes off, every now and then, for things like showering and making coffee.”

  “Yes, but you were with me all the rest of the time.” Her eyes met his. “You didn’t have to do it, you know. You could have taken me home. I have a housekeeper.”

  His smile tilted. He cupped her face, smoothed her hair back from her temples and kissed the tip of her nose.

  “Yes,” he said softly. “I know.”

  The look on his face was gentle, as was the touch of his hands, and the warmth of his smile made her want to lean into his arms and cling to him—cling to him, forever—proof, surely, that she was still under the weather. Otherwise, she’d never have wanted such a thing.

  “I wanted to take care of you, Princess. It’s as simple as that.”

  Alex nodded gravely. “Thank you.”

  Their eyes met, their glances held. Travis wanted to gather her into his arms, hold her, tell her—tell her…

  Instead, he cleared his throat. “There’s nothing to thank me for,” he said lightly. “Just be sure and put me in for the Nobel Prize and we’ll call it an even trade.”

  She laughed—until she looked past him and glimpsed herself in the mirror. “Oh my goodness! Is that me?”

  “Is what you?”

  “That—that creature I see in the mirror. Whoa. What a mess!”

  Travis leaped for her as she flung back the covers. “Hey. Not so fast, darlin’. You’re liable to fall on your face.”

  “We’ll all fall on our faces, if I don’t get hold of some soap and water.” She rose from the bed, wrapping the sheet around herself. She knew it was silly to be so modest now but this had nothing to do with modesty and everything to do with the sudden realization that something had changed between them. “Travis? If you could just lend me something to wear, until I get home…?”

  A funny look came and went on his face, so quickly that she thought she’d imagined it.

  “Sure.” He rose from the bed and came toward her. “After we shower, I’ll lay out something for you to put on.”

  “No. I mean—I mean, I think I’d better shower alone.” She managed a quick smile. “I’ve got lots of secret little feminine things to do, after all. Wash my hair. Shave my legs…”

  Travis eyed her warily and then he nodded. “Okay. But if you feel the least bit woozy—”

  “I’ll yell, I promise.”

  The shower felt wonderful. Alex stood under the stream, eyes closed, soaping, shampooing, scrubbing and rinsing until she felt clean. Images came and went: Travis, holding her. Helping her. Urging her to drink cool juices.

  I wanted to take care of you, Princess. It’s as simple as that.

  Her lover had become her friend. For some reason, the thought was as frightening as it was exhilarating.

  “Princess?”

  She took a breath, shut off the water and cracked open the shower door. Travis stood outside—at least, she thought, as she began to laugh, an enormous white towel stood outside, with a man’s denim-clad legs peeping out from under it.

  She stepped onto the mat and let him enfold her in the towel.

  “Mmm,” she sighed, as he drew her close, “that feels lovely.”

  Travis nodded. “Yeah,” he said, and sternly warned his body to behave itself. Alex had been ill. She was still fragile—and heaven only knew how she’d react, when she saw what he’d done. He w
rapped the towel snugly around her, stepped back and motioned her ahead of him, into the bedroom. “Well,” he said briskly, “I’ve laid out something for you to wear. If it’s not what you want, just tell me.”

  She laughed as she padded across the carpet. “Anything that makes me look human again will be just…” Her words trailed away as she looked at the clothing on the bed. A pair of her jeans. One of her silk blouses. Panties that were hers, and a bra. She looked up. Travis was at the closet, his back to her. “Oh, Travis,” she said, and smiled. “That was sweet of you.”

  He didn’t turn around. “What was?”

  “Going to my house and picking up some stuff for me to wear. That was really—”

  He swung toward her. “I picked up everything,” he said gruffly.

  Alex cocked her head. “I don’t understand.”

  “Well, maybe not everything, but most of what was in your closet and in your dresser drawers. Your housekeeper collected the things she thought you’d want and I brought them here, but we’ll go back, if I forgot anything, and—”

  He looked at her puzzled face, fell silent and stepped aside. Alex stared past him, into the closet, where her clothing hung side by side with his.

  “Travis?” Her gaze flew to his. “What is this?”

  “You’re moving in with me.”

  “Moving…?” Alex laughed. “No, I’m not. I have a house. A life. And we agreed—”

  “Nothing’s changed.” His voice was rough and so was the way he reached for her and enclosed her in his arms. “It’s crazy, not living together.”

  “But we agreed—”

  “I know all about that. But while we’re together—”

  “While it lasts, you mean.”

  He nodded, his green eyes on hers. “Yeah. While it does, I want you with me.”

  Alex bristled. “Did it ever occur to you to ask what I might want, Cowboy?”

  His hands covered hers. Gently, persistently, he drew the towel from her fingers and let it fall to the floor so she stood within his embrace, naked.

  “All right. I’m asking, Princess. Do you want to be with me, or don’t you?”

  She looked up at him, knowing what her answer should be, knowing she should demand her independence, that there was no way she ought to let him take control of her life—or of her heart.