The Mistress Deal

by Sandra Field

  Swiftly he lowered her to the floor, put his arms around her and kissed her with a fierce possessiveness.

  Lauren stood stiff as a china doll in his arms. For the second time Reece was kissing her. But this time there was no Bianca to impress; only the two of them in an empty apartment. This time he wasn’t acting. Fear flicked her nerves sharp as a whip, memories surging back of what it had been like with Sandor, that long-ago sensation of being smothered by his weight, by the power he had wielded over her.

  But then, as though a pendulum had swung from one extreme to the other, fear was usurped by a flood of other sensations. The warmth of Reece’s lips, so confident of their welcome. The slide of his palms down her back to her waist, the hard wall of his chest pressing against her breasts. Her blood started thrumming in her veins and an ache of desire—unquestionably it was desire—blossomed in her belly. In sheer surprise her body sagged in Reece’s embrace. Without even considering what she was doing, Lauren clutched the sleeves of his jacket and kissed him back; and wondered if she could faint from sheer pleasure.

  His lips teased hers apart. She felt the first thrust of his tongue and welcomed it with all her heart, her hands moving to his shoulders, then linking themselves at his nape, where his hair brushed her skin with tantalizing softness.

  His kiss deepened, an intimacy she was more than ready for, her body melting into his. His arms tightened around her waist, his fingers digging into the curve of her hip. With one hand he found the swell of her breast, caressing its firm rise with lingering sensitivity. Lauren gave a tiny, spontaneous cry of delight. He said huskily, against her mouth, “My beautiful Lauren…” Then, again, he swept her up into his arms.

  Through eyes dazzled with longing, she realized he was carrying her across the room, past the Picasso and the Chardin to the doorway of his bedroom. He pushed the door open with his foot, and once again she saw the wonderful bronze sculpture against the forest-green wall, and the shimmering lights of the park beyond the balcony. The bed looked huge, and it was this that finally made Lauren find her voice. “Reece, what’s going on? I—”

  He lowered her to the floor so that she was enclosed in his embrace, and said hoarsely, “You’re where you belong.”

  “But we—”

  He closed her mouth with his own, and in a surge of sweetness she forgot about Sandor’s cruelty. Had she ever in her life felt so encompassed by a man’s embrace? So certain that it was here in Reece’s bedroom that she did indeed belong? Knowing she was taking a huge step into the unknown, Lauren wrapped her arms around his waist, her palms seeking the warmth of his skin beneath his shirt. His muscles were tense, the hard curves of his rib cage exciting her beyond measure. Of their own volition her hands smoothed his chest and the taut, rippled belly, and all the while his tongue played with hers in a heated kiss she wanted to last forever.

  Against her mouth, he muttered, “I wanted you the first moment I saw you walk into my office—why else did I suggest this crazy arrangement of ours?”

  Her body froze, desire obliterated with horrifying suddenness. Wrenching her head back, Lauren gasped, “But you believed Sandor then, you said so.”

  He nibbled at her lips, saying thickly, “This is no time for talking. I want to see you naked, I want to—”

  “And now I’m proving you right, aren’t I?” she gabbled. “I’m easy, I’m promiscuous, I’ve only known you for four days and I’m about to fall into your bed.”

  “For God’s sake—you’ve had other lovers since Sandor, you must have.”

  “I haven’t! I told you I hadn’t.”

  “What does it matter?” Reece said impatiently, clasping her by the shoulders. “We’re meant to be together, I know we are. Anything else is irrelevant.”

  Her heart now felt as though it was encased in ice. “You think it’s irrelevant whether or not you believe me about something as basic as promiscuity?”

  “If you’ve had other lovers, Lauren, that doesn’t mean you’re promiscuous.”

  “You don’t believe one word I’ve said, do you?” she cried, pulling away from him. “How can that be irrelevant?”

  He said harshly, “We’re not marrying each other.”

  “No. Just having a one-night stand. Or a one-week stand.” She struggled to get her breath through the pain in her chest. “I must be mad to have kissed you—why did I do that?”

  “Because you wanted to.”

  He was right. For the first time in many years, she’d craved a man’s body, opened herself to his kisses and his touch without a thought for the consequences or the context: behavior so totally out of character that in the last few minutes she’d become a stranger to herself. And it was Reece who had done that to her. A man she scarcely knew, rich, ruthless, and full of secrets. Reece with his beautiful body and his implacable will.

  He said grimly, “At least you’re not bothering to deny it.”

  Swallowing hard, Lauren fought to find the words that might bring her back from the chasm into which she had so nearly tumbled. The simplest thing would be to turn tail and run for home as fast as she could; but if she did so, Wallace’s good name would be ruined. She said with icy precision, “I’ll function as a hostess for the Japanese wives—not as your mistress. The same goes for your contact at the yacht club. In other words, for the rest of our time together we can stop acting. And then I’m out of here. So fast you won’t see me for the dust.”

  His eyes like shards of glass, Reece said, “You’re burning your bridges, Lauren—I could be useful to you. I know a lot of people with the kind of money to afford your sculptures.”

  “As investments,” she said bitterly. “No, thanks. I’ve made my own way in the world so far, and I’ll continue to do so.”

  “With help from Sandor. And Wallace.”

  “That’s right,” she said furiously, “rub my nose in my mistakes. Of course, you never make them, do you? You’re not a fallible human being like the rest of us—I bet you’ve never done a single thing you’ve regretted with all your heart.”

  His fingers bit into her flesh with cruel strength. “I told you to stay out of my personal life,” he blazed. “But do you listen? You—”

  “So you have made mistakes…big ones, by the look of you,” she said in a dazed voice.

  “I—”

  “Won’t you tell me about them?” she begged. “Please?”

  “I will not—they’re none of your goddamned business,” he grated, pushing her away as though he couldn’t bear to touch her, then wiping his palms down the sides of his trousers.

  Cut to the quick, Lauren cried, “Thank God, I didn’t get into your bed. The only thing you’re willing to share is your body, isn’t it, Reece? Go ahead and do that with other women if that’s what turns you on. But I deserve more than that. I want a man who’ll share himself body and soul.” She bit her lip, wondering where her words had come from, certain in her heart they were true. “I’ll be ready Tuesday morning to go to Whistler. In the meantime, I don’t want to lay eyes on you.”

  “You’ll stay here tonight and tomorrow night,” he said in an ugly voice. “Or the deal’s off.”

  “You’re just like Sandor—in love with power,” she retorted, too angry to care what she said. “So how could you ever fall in love with an ordinary person? A woman with feelings and integrity? I wouldn’t make love with you if you were the last man on earth.”

  “Yes, you would,” he sneered. “If I’d kept my mouth shut about wanting you in my office, you’d be in my bed right now. Because you were willing, Lauren—that was no act.”

  She’d been more than willing: against all her experience and expectations, she’d been enraptured. Her shoulders slumping, she said wearily, “So you get the last word—good for you.”

  As she turned away, Reece made no move to stop her. Feeling as though she’d been run over by a truck, Lauren trailed to her bedroom and shut the door, leaning back against the frame. All this luxury and elegance, yet she might as w
ell be in prison.

  There were only six more days left in her sentence. Six days and six nights.

  It was the nights she had to worry about. Because Reece had been right: she would have made love with him. Just as if Sandor hadn’t time and time again convinced her she was a wipeout in bed, a failure as a woman.

  But she’d learned her lesson. She wouldn’t lay as much as a finger on Reece from now on.

  She couldn’t afford to. Not when acting could so easily turn into reality.

  CHAPTER SIX

  LAUREN worked like a woman possessed all the next day, and by seven that evening knew she had to stop. The carving of mother and child was as complete as she could make it; now she had to put it away for a month and then look at it afresh to see if it had accomplished what she’d hoped for.

  She was almost sure it had: that it was both powerful and true. Carefully she draped it in one of the towels from the bathroom. As always when she’d finished a piece, she felt drained yet restless, too wound up to settle to anything, too wired to sleep. One thing she knew: she’d prefer not to be in the condo when Reece returned from Seattle.

  On impulse she phoned Charlie. “It’s Lauren. Any chance you’re free for a visit?”

  “I’d love to see you. I haven’t eaten yet—feel like Szechuan food?”

  That’s just what Lauren needed: a crowded restaurant and some good food. “Great idea!” They agreed to meet in Chinatown, and Lauren went to have a shower. An hour later, she and Charlie were seated across from each other in a dimly lit restaurant decorated with red dragons and tasseled lights, sipping Chinese tea and eating meat dumplings in a ferociously spicy sauce.

  Charlie said briskly, “Okay, Lauren, come clean. What’s it like being the mistress of the richest man in town?”

  “I’m not!”

  “So you’ve come close,” Charlie said shrewdly. “I’m not surprised—I figured there was dynamite somewhere in Reece Callahan. You don’t get where he is without having all kinds of drive and a killer instinct.”

  “He’s an arrogant, hard-nosed tyrant who doesn’t know the difference between the truth and a lie. Especially if a woman’s doing the talking.”

  Charlie grimaced. “So he believes Sandor’s version of your past and he’s blind to what’s under his nose?”

  “Precisely.” Lauren swallowed too much sauce and nearly choked. Hastily she gulped some tea. “But it really doesn’t matter. Five more days and I’m home free.”

  “It matters. By the look of you.”

  Charlie was an old and trusted friend. Lauren said flatly, “Can you believe he turns me on? What’s wrong with me?”

  “I told you he was a hunk.”

  “I get the occasional glimpse that there’s a real human being buried inside him—and then he does something that makes me so angry I could spit.”

  Heartlessly Charlie began to laugh. “About time you paid some attention to the opposite sex.”

  “I’ve never stopped dating,” Lauren said indignantly.

  “Safe men. Predictable men. How long since you’ve been with a man who infuriates you and yet you want to jump his bones?”

  Lauren said in a staccato voice, “I will not jump Reece Callahan’s bones or any other part of his anatomy.”

  “What would be the harm if you did?”

  “I might find out I liked it,” Lauren blurted, then pulled a face of sheer horror. “Can you believe I just said that?”

  “I can and you did.”

  “And where would it get me, to have an affair with Reece? After next Saturday we go our separate ways.”

  Her expression suddenly serious, Charlie rested a hand on Lauren’s wrist. “Maybe you should go for it anyway. It’s time you got out of the prison Sandor built for you…you’ve let him run your life far too long. Sandor was a handsome, charming manipulator with an ego as big as an oil tanker and not a shred of human kindness…you deserve better than to trail in his wake for the rest of your life.”

  “Your description of Sandor would apply equally well to Reece Callahan,” Lauren said tartly.

  “They’re as different as night and day—and you know it.”

  “So Reece is better looking.”

  “Sandor was hollow inside,” Charlie announced. “Reece isn’t. That’s the difference.”

  “Huh,” Lauren said, unconvinced. “The fact remains, I was taken in by Sandor, and I’m in no hurry to repeat my mistake.”

  “Of course you were taken in by him. He was your instructor, he was talented, sexy and charismatic. And you were very young when you first met him. Why wouldn’t you be taken in?”

  Lauren gave a deep sigh. “I’m afraid to trust my instincts anymore,” she said unhappily. “Basically, I’m afraid to trust men. In case I get hurt again.”

  “But you take so many risks in your work. Couldn’t you spread them out to include the men in your life?”

  “Once I get back to New York, I might.”

  “You could start right here in Vancouver.”

  “Charlie, are you serious? Are you really advising me to have an affair with Reece?”

  “Yep.”

  “Surefire recipe for disaster.”

  “You might indeed find out you like it.”

  It wasn’t an opportune moment for Lauren to remember how her body had melted into Reece’s, her lips parting to the thrust of his tongue. She took another gulp of tea, hoping her flushed cheeks could be attributed to the sauce. Charlie said smugly, “I rest my case.”

  “You don’t miss a trick, do you? But how can a man I totally dislike have my hormones doing the hiphop?”

  “Good question. By the time I’ve eaten my curried duck, maybe I can come up with an answer.”

  “I shouldn’t have dumped all that garbage about Reece on you, Charlie—”

  “It wasn’t garbage and I think you should hang in there with him. I do trust my instincts, and they’re telling me he’s a very different ball game from Sandor.”

  “Maybe I’ll try not to lose my temper so often,” Lauren said thoughtfully, “that’d be a start.” Then, reaching for the bill, she glanced down at her watch. “Eleven-ten?” she exclaimed. “It can’t be!”

  So it was nearly quarter to twelve by the time Lauren inserted her key into the lock of Reece’s condo. Before she could fully turn it, the door was wrenched open. Reece said furiously, “Where the hell have you been?”

  He was wearing jeans and an open-necked shirt; his hair was tousled and his eyes blazed blue. He was also, Lauren saw, white about the mouth. “Out with a friend,” she said, puzzled. “What’s the matter?”

  He grabbed her by one arm and hauled her into the room. “For God’s sake, are you okay? And where the devil were you?”

  She didn’t like being manhandled; never had since her days with Sandor. But remembering her resolve, Lauren said as calmly as she could, “I was having dinner in Chinatown.”

  “Why didn’t you leave me a note telling me where you were?”

  “Because it didn’t occur to me,” she said truthfully. “Let go of my arm.”

  “I didn’t have a clue what you were up to!”

  “Reece, I’m twenty-seven years old and you’re not my keeper!”

  “And who’s this friend? What’s his name?”

  “It was a woman and what’s it to you?”

  “We’re yelling at each other again,” he said flatly. “Lauren, I genuinely thought you were in some kind of trouble.”

  His jawline was tight, and his shoulders still rigid with tension. “Trouble?” she repeated, frowning. “What kind of trouble?”

  “This is a big city. Any number of things could have happened. So next time just leave me a note, will you?”

  “I live in Manhattan—I’m streetwise. You don’t have to worry about me.”

  “You’re an extremely attractive woman who’s carrying a purse with a wallet in it, and while this may not be New York, Vancouver’s got its own share of criminals.”


  “So you can fly to Seattle but I’m supposed to sit home in your condo and wait for you to get back? You’ve got the wrong woman!”

  “You think I don’t know that?”

  “Not for much longer, though. Whistler and the yacht club—then you can kiss me goodbye.” Her sense of humor getting the better of her, she added, “Metaphorically, that is.”

  “Keep your metaphors,” Reece said violently. “I want to kiss you right now and I mean that literally.”

  “Because I’m easy,” she flashed.

  “Because you make me say things I have no intention of saying. Because the sheen of your hair, the curve of your lips are driving me out of my mind. Because you’ve ambushed my orderly, very-much-under-my-control life. How’s that for starters?”

  “Oh,” said Lauren.

  He ran his fingers through his already disordered hair. “I was pretty sure you wouldn’t abandon our agreement without letting me know—so I decided you were in some kind of trouble. But I had no idea where to start looking for you.”

  Something shifted deep within her. “You’re saying you trust me? About the agreement?”

  “You might drop it in the middle of one of our yelling matches,” he said wryly. “But you wouldn’t sneak off when I’m not here. Not your style.”

  “I would have been home earlier, but my friend and I got talking.” Lauren added generously, “I’m sorry I worried you, Reece—that wasn’t my intention.”

  He turned away, heading for the living room. “I need a drink,” he said. “Want anything?”

  “Sure, I’ll have a glass of wine.” Running her fingers absently over the copper sculpture, she said, “I still don’t understand why you were so upset. It wasn’t for the sake of my big blue eyes—so what else was going on?”

  He passed her a crystal glass of Chardonnay, and took a healthy swallow from his whiskey. “Leave it, will you?”

  “You sure know how to shut doors in people’s faces.”

  “Talking of shut doors, I went into your room. Looking for you. The sculpture’s beautiful, Lauren.”

  She didn’t like the thought of him in her bedroom. But she’d already lost her temper once in the last five minutes and she wasn’t going to do it again. “That was the main reason I had to go out…I’m always at a loose end when I finish a piece.”