by Flora Dain
* * * *
Down in the entrance hall Nera is whip-smart in tight latex and thigh boots as she supervises departing guests and welcomes new arrivals. A rock festival is planned for next month and technicians and producers are already arriving to assess the site.
She hails me with a tight-lipped smile. “Ah, there you are, Tunis. The Panther’s flying out this morning. You’re to meet on the plane. Izzy’s waiting for you. He’ll drive you to the airfield.”
I glance across to see the Bad Man of Rock flanked by two of the Bash Babes. He gives me a half-wave, and I look away quickly.
Nera leans close. “I take it you’ve had breakfast?”
Food’s the last thing on my mind. I just want this over with. “Thanks, Nera. I had coffee in my room. Terrific news about the Wannabe Fund. I’m glad you made so much money.” She looks pleased, so I take a deep breath. “Can I ask you a favor?”
Her glance flickers to her watch but her smile stays in place. “Ask away.”
“Can I borrow a couple of costumes for the week from my room? I’m not sure what I’ll need….” I tail off, feeling awkward.
“I’ll have them packed up for you.” She lowers her eyelids. “And they look terrific on, by the way. You’ve made quite an impression. I’m sure he’ll have the time of his life. So, enjoy your week.”
She turns away to greet a group of technicians, and I feel a touch on my arm. It’s Mel, dazzling in tight latex and high heels. She’s also awaiting her purchaser but with a lot more enthusiasm than I am. Her blazing hair’s been streaked gold and bronze in the salon and springs round her shoulders in a tawny halo, making her pale eyes sparkle.
“Gosh, Tunis, a week with the Panther, of all people—who’d have thought? If only you’d done some training, you silly girl. Anyway, if you get back alive, you must do a special on him. Mind you, get some quotes.” She gives me a wink. “And wish me luck. Garth’s driver’s just fetching the car.”
I grin and kiss her on the cheek. “Have a terrific time, Mel. And don’t worry about Ben. He’ll come round, especially if you get an exclusive on the back of it.”
I sound braver than I feel.
Mel looks at me in surprise then leans forward and lowers her voice to a hiss. “You sure you’re okay? Izzy’s tapping his watch but I just wanted to let you know we’re on to something about Fitzlean. You know that business outside the club last year, that night you passed out on camera?”
I freeze. “What?”
“Jake’s been in touch. Remember how Fitzlean said he was in charge all that night? Jake’s found out there’s some security footage that proves Fitzlean wasn’t anywhere near the club that night. Even the Panther came late. He got there after we did. Jake’s back tomorrow. We’ll find out more then.”
My blood runs cold. “Mel, please, please don’t do anything just yet. We don’t know the full story—”
“Ah, but that’s just what we’re going to find out. Don’t you see? Fitzlean’s story doesn’t add up. Maybe somebody else was there that night. Maybe that’s why things went wrong and he’s covering up for them. And now he’s gone we’ve got a good chance of finding out more. By the time you get back, we might even have enough to work it into the end of our report. It’ll be terrific—a news scoop tacked onto the last few minutes of the official build-up to the premiere. It’ll be a sensation.”
“No, Mel… Look. Talk to me first, okay? Don’t make any hard decisions till I get back. And for goodness’ sake—”
“Hey, honey, what’s with all the girl-talk? We gotta cat waitin’ ta meet ya, y’know.”
Izzy’s standing over us, grinning.
Mel beams up at him, overawed by this wrinkly remnant of rock royalty. “Wow—Izzy Bash in person. I can hardly believe it. This is a real honor.”
“Mel, please listen to me.” I step between them. “I mean it. Do be discreet. You’ve no idea who you’re dealing with—”
Mel snorts. “Oh don’t I? He’s been lurking in the shadows all week, barking orders, pulling strings. I know a power-mad psycho when I see one and that asshole badly needs a lesson. Bye, now. You have a great time.”
She blows me a kiss and sashays off through the crowd, leaving a trail of onlookers gawping after her.
I watch her go with a sinking heart. But now I’ve got problems of my own.
Izzy turns to me with a grin. “Mornin’, ma’am. Izaak Bashnikov at your service. I’m here to escort you to your chariot.”
Wrinkly Bad Men of Rock aren’t really my thing, but I manage a chilly smile. I’m instantly taken aback by his shrewd, penetrating look.
“Hey, kid, you’re kinda white. Ya nervous?” His blue eyes crinkle with real concern.
His kindness is so sudden and so unexpected I swallow. “It’s just… I wasn’t expecting to be auctioned at all. It’s still a bit of a shock.”
Just then fans of all ages, from seasoned film hands to junior kitchen staff, appear from nowhere and mob him for autographs. Eventually they’re shooed away by two of the Babes.
It’s another twenty minutes or so before we finally emerge into the sunshine and reach the car. Two more Babes are in front, one driving and the other riding shotgun.
As we settle into the long back seat, his hand accidentally touches mine and he clasps it briefly. “Hey, you’re real cold, honey. Don’t be scared.” His lopsided grin vanishes and his wrinkled face twists into a mask of genuine worry. His faded blue eyes look intelligent and kind.
All at once I feel my eyes sting.
As the car pulls smoothly away, he reaches across and pats my shoulder. “Hey, honey, take it easy. Wassup?”
“It’s just… I’ve got a bit of a thing about the Panther. Not in a good way,” I add quickly, as his grin threatens to break out again.
To his credit, he stays solemn. “Honey, you’ll be fine. The hoods an’ whips an’ stuff? S’all showbiz. Underneath he’s a real nice guy.”
“You know him, then?”
“Sure I know him. Known him since he was a kid. I know everybody. I bin around long enough. An’ believe you me, he’s one of the best. You’ll see. Hey, we’re here.”
The car draws to a halt and I peer out at the private jet looming over us. It bears the Panther’s logo, etched in black silhouette on the tail fin and along the side—a rampant black leopard under the curve of a long, elegantly penned whip.
Three crew members dressed in black are lined up to greet me at the foot of the steps.
“Las’ chance, honey. You wanna go back?” He looks genuinely worried now.
I attempt a brave smile. “I’m fine. I’d better go through with this. He’s paid an awful lot of money. And it’s a good cause.”
His smile flickers briefly but I hurry on, keen to get away. I want this over with. “Thanks, Izzy. You’ve been really kind. You know, for a Bad Man of Rock, you’re surprisingly nice.”
His face creases into his trademark grin. “Aw, shucks, honey, for a chick scared of cats ya gotta lotta guts.” He leans toward me with a sly wink. “An’ go easy on the nice. I gotta look bad for the fans, if you get my meanin’.”
The car pulls silently away while I shake hands with the crew and at last I start the long climb up the short flight of steps. And as I climb, a strange thing happens, considering how nervous I’ve been up to now. I feel a spike of hot anger.
Indignation slowly burns away my fear as I’m gripped by one all-consuming thought. This was all a trick.
And if I ever get to see him again, Cade Fitzlean’s got some tough explaining to do.
I step into the cabin. It’s dim inside after the glare of the sunlit tarmac and full of quiet hush after the roar of the engines out in the open air.
For a few seconds I sense pale, padded luxury around me. Light streams in through the cabin windows and I glimpse the tower and the turrets of Beat Hall.
How far away the fairy tale seems now.
As my eyes adjust, I see a dark figure waiting in the shadows.<
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Little hairs rise all over my body as I make out first the glitter of his eyes, then the dark shape of the hood and the darker patches where the beard and the thick braids fall in coils over his shoulders and his chest.
He walks slowly toward me. In this confined space, he seems huge. I stand very still.
It’s the figure from my dream, just as I remember him and just like I saw him that night over a year ago. And now I have a new, fleeting image of him—letting fly with the bullwhip on poor little Eileen only days before.
And the sheer, feline power and grace in the way he moved…
“I thought you’d never get here.” His voice is deep and rich. It seeps through me like honey.
It’s the voice from my dreams…
He reaches up with one hand to peel off his hood and it comes away with the beard and the braids still attached. It’s a costume.
“Well? I’m waiting for you to throw up.”
I stare up at him, my eyes full of joy and my heart full of rage. All at once I’m in his arms, pummeling his chest, while Cade crushes me to him, laughing, and covers my face with kisses.
* * * *
As the jet takes off, I lean across him for one last glimpse of Beat Hall, its towers and pinnacles rising over the trees, the colored pennants still fluttering in the sunshine. He keeps his arm firmly around my shoulders, unwilling to let me go.
Soon a smiling flight attendant brings us flutes of champagne on a silver tray.
“Lunch in twenty minutes, Mr. Fitzlean.” She introduces herself as Lisa, gives me a friendly nod then retires to prepare our meal.
He turns to me and raises his glass. “Salut.”
I sip gratefully. As the tiny bubbles hit my tongue, I lean on his shoulder. “So would you mind telling me what all that was about? Letting me think I was being sold off to a complete stranger? Were you being deliberately cruel or was it your idea of a joke?”
He sits up with an expression of disbelief. “Cruel? I take you for an intelligent woman. Our arrangement’s a secret. How else am I supposed to spirit you away for a whole week? If I’d bought you openly at the auction, we might as well have fucked all week by the pool and invited the world’s press to watch.”
He takes a swig of his drink, eyeing me over the rim. “I’m beginning to wish we had. It would have been a damn sight easier.”
He looks away with a sigh, suddenly serious. “If you must know, I dreaded you finding out who I was. After the auction I waited till the last possible moment in case you freaked out. I was surprised you were so cool about it—enough to let Izzy bring you out here, anyway. He said you seemed scared to death but you behaved like a princess. I figured if you really freaked, I’d just about have enough time to throw you off the plane before we got airborne.”
“And if I throw up now?” I ask, sweetly.
He grins. “I’ll probably throw you off anyway. You’ve cost me enough.”
I start to pummel again but he captures my wrists with one hand, laughing softy. “Anyway, our session with the quirt gave me hope.”
This surprises me. “Why?”
He runs a finger down my throat, making me arch my neck, and lowers his voice to a soft purr. “Because it’s as scary as the bullwhip. Stock whips are more for effect than contact. And you took it surprisingly well.”
I glare at him. “Well, you can keep it for the bulls.”
He kisses the tip of my nose. “They’re a lot less fun. Anyway, after a whole week together, did you seriously think I was going to let another man get his hands on you?”
Lunch is served on a small table laid with formal white linen, crystal and silver. Lisa brings us a tasty smoked salmon starter, followed by chicken with prosciutto, green beans and a crisp white wine. Over coffee we toy with a bowl of cherries.
Cade watches me throughout, his gaze thoughtful and disturbing. “Did you enjoy the auction? I thought it was an interesting way to end the week.”
I’d planned a protest but now I melt. He makes me face my fears—first heights, now this. I give in gracefully, a cherry part way to my lips. “Do all your surprises give people heart attacks?”
“Has to be worth it if we’ve fooled the world’s media into thinking we’re six thousand miles apart. For all they know I’m in LA and you’re being ravaged by a wild beast in some underground cavern.”
I sip some wine and dangle another cherry. “Izzy’s nice. He’s nothing like I expected. He produced your record, didn’t he? He says he knows you really well.”
“He does. After my mother went, he helped to bring us up. We owe him a lot.” He eyes me over the rim of his glass and lowers his voice. “He was my mother’s lover.”
“The maniac?”
“What would you call him? He organized the first rock concert at Beat Hall. When my father took it on, the place it was a wreck. Izzy turned up, put together an entertainment program and together they turned the place round. That was how he and my mother met. By the time my father found out about them, Izzy was raking in so much money, Dad decided to play dumb.”
“What was she like, your mother?”
He shrugs. “Beautiful, creative. Wild child.”
“Wild?”
“She’d get everyone out of bed at two in the morning to look at the moon—that kind of wild.”
I smile. “She sounds sweet.”
His lip curls at the corner. “You try it three times a week. It soon palls. Not too popular with wealthy backers, either. To be fair, my father stood it as long as he could.”
“Do you still see him?”
“When I’m in Europe. Maybe you’ve heard of him. Sir Gerald Fitzlean?”
His tone stays light but I sense tension. “The diplomat?”
This is news. I have heard of him—and of the wild parties with too many blondes.
“That’s him. We’ll see him later this week. He wants to meet you.”
I stare. “Me?”
“Sure. I’m not the only man in the world who thinks you’re beautiful.” He pushes away his chair and takes my hand, drawing me close.
“But… How does he know about me?”
He kisses me gently on the cheek. “He’s seen you on TV. Plus, I’ve told him about you. So has Izzy. And if you’ll stop pestering me with questions, we’re going to do something I’ve been wanting to do for a while.”
He folds his arms round me and holds me close, his eyes dark and needy, and captures my mouth, his tongue and his lips soft at first then fierce, sending electricity sparking through me. I press against him, thrilling to the feel of him curving over me, the heat from his hips burning into my lower belly, a clear sign of his hunger and as urgent as mine.
But Mel’s news is still burning into my brain. So I’ve got one more question.
“So you’re the Panther? And that was you that night? You were there—professionally?”
His smile fades abruptly. “Is this the reporter’s friend asking?”
My heart sinks. “I’m just curious. And over lunch it’s called conversation, Cade,” I add gently.
Why’s he so edgy about this? It can only mean that Mel’s on to something. But maybe now’s not the time to ask. We’ve got a whole week. I’ll try later.
“You call this conversation?” His eyebrow arches a fraction and all at once the blue of his eyes deepens to midnight. His hand lingers on the small of my back, his fingers playing a warm, soft rhythm of their own as his intention gleams on his eyes. “I’d call it something quite different. Darker. And definitely dirtier. Bring the cherries.”
The plane has a bedroom, all pale, sleek and low-slung. It has flowers in bowls, soft lighting and all around us the hum of the engines make a soothing lullaby. He flicks a remote and I hear the strains of a Tchaikovsky love duet that always melts my soul.
He pulls me to him and kisses me with light, soft kisses while he runs his hands over me, tearing at my clothes and searching deep between my breasts. “Mm, you taste good. Better than lunch.�
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I smile against his kiss and run my hand lightly along his face, still tingling with relief and joy at the thought that we’re together now for a whole week.
He throws himself down onto the bed and sprawls out with his hands behind his head. “Now the Panther wants to play. Strip.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
“A corset and black stockings? The Panther’s a lucky beast. Well, not quite as lucky as me, maybe, but close.” Cade is reclining on the pillows, intent and watchful. The heat in his eyes fires my soul.
As the music swells over the deep bass undertone of the engines, I slowly strip for him, moving to the music, my hips swaying as the shocks of the past twelve hours melt away one by one. My moves are more for me than for him, the movement soothing me in the way that only dance can.
But the gleam in his eyes is catching. It fires a glow that burns deep and slow and heats with the music, flaring each time his eyes narrow or his breath quickens.
His expression darkens as I slowly unfasten the corset, taking my time with the tight lacing. I let it slide to the floor then peel off the stockings. As I fling away the second one, he rises to his feet and looms over me.
“Now lie on the bed, face up. I want to look at you.”
He kneels next to me, his expression remote. “Spread your legs and put your arms up over your head.”
I shiver. “Why? What are you going to do?”
He glances at me, his eyes opaque. “Do you ever stop asking questions? Why do you think? I want to examine you. For the whole of this week you’re mine, twenty-four seven. That means there’s a lot we could do, but we may have to go easy. We’ve been pretty intense so far. I don’t want to overdo things.”
He leans over and drops a kiss right on my navel, his lips moist and hot. His voice lowers to a deep, velvety purr. “But first I want some dessert.”
For dessert he wants cherries and me. I lie very still while he deposits them in some surprising places then teases them out and eats them, occasionally leaning over me to place one in my mouth with his teeth and follow it with a deep, searching kiss. When they’re all consumed, he follows with his lips in all the same places till I’m twitching with arousal then he swings me up onto his chest and lets me tease him back.