The Maverick's Virgin Mistress

by Jennifer Lewis

  “Rick Jones.”

  “Jones?” She pursed her pretty mouth. “I don’t think I know anyone with that name. Which is funny, when you think about it. I guess he’s not a member.”

  “I don’t think so. I’ve mentioned his name a couple of times and no one seems to know him.”

  “How odd that you met him here, then. I suppose he must have been here as a guest. What does he do?”

  “Something in shipping. He’s in Hong Kong right now on business.”

  “There’s big money in shipping.”

  “I kind of got that impression. He lives in a hotel suite.”

  She laughed. “That’s one way to avoid cleaning and cooking.”

  “Yes. He’s totally unembarrassed about his inability to do either.”

  “I guess he saves his energy for other pursuits.” Cara lifted a brow.

  Alicia felt her face heat up. “You’re absolutely right. And he sails, too. We went out on his yacht.”

  “A yacht!” Cara clapped her hands together. “I love it. Was it one of those huge things with a full-size kitchen and a staff of ten?”

  “No, a slick racing yacht with barely room to turn around.”

  “Really?” Cara frowned and put down her fork. “Have you ever met Justin Dupree?”

  Alicia racked her brain. “Nope. Don’t think so.”

  “He’s a member so you’ll run into him sooner or later. He’s heir to some vast shipping empire. Absolutely rolling in it, or so they say. And he’s into yacht racing, too.”

  “Weird. I guess those pursuits aren’t all that unusual around here.”

  “Not if you’re loaded to the gills.” Cara rolled her eyes. “I’m glad it’s not him, though. He’s a serious skirt chaser. I’d be giving you some stern warnings.”

  “Well, I honestly have no idea what Rick is like when I’m not with him. We’ve only spent time alone so I haven’t actually met any of his friends.” She sighed. “He’s so gorgeous he must have women falling all over him.”

  “But he has eyes only for you.”

  “So far.” Alicia smiled. “He’s been unbelievable. I’m not very…experienced.” She cleared her throat, unwilling to admit exactly how inexperienced she was. “And he’s been so thoughtful and caring.”

  “He sounds like a keeper. Has he met Alex yet?”

  Alicia stopped, her glass suspended in the air. “Not yet.”

  Cara laughed. “You’re afraid, aren’t you?”

  “Of course not! Alex is perfectly reasonable.”

  “Oh, come on! He tried to stop you from seeing me when we were first friends. He thought I was fast or something, because I did a lot of dancing and cheerleading.”

  “He’s very traditional.” Why did she always feel such a strong urge to defend Alex?

  “Traditional? He’s downright Neanderthal when it comes to protecting you. Still, if you need a buffer there when you tell him about Rick, I’ll be there for ya. We could even get together right here in the café. Nice and informal.”

  “I don’t think so.” Alicia winced. “I only just started dating him. I don’t want to freak him out. Not yet, anyway.” She giggled. “But if things continue the way they’ve been going so far, I may well take you up on your offer.”

  “I’m glad to hear it. You deserve to meet someone fabulous.”

  “I agree.” Alicia raised her Diet Coke and clinked it against Cara’s wineglass. “To romance.”

  The snapper smelled sensational when it arrived, borne by the equally delicious waiter.

  She took a bite. “I can see why the chef cried. Then again, since I met Rick everything seems…brighter, richer, more flavorful. Is that crazy?”

  “Absolutely. Sounds like love.”

  “Oh, it can’t be love. Like I said, we only just met. We’ve had a few dates, and I spent one weekend with him.”

  “Sometimes that’s all it takes. Where is his suite?”

  “The Houston Omni, near the Galleria. It has views all over Houston—it’s incredible.”

  Cara paused. “The Omni? I’m pretty sure that’s where Justin Dupree lives. I went to a wild party there a couple of years ago. You could see all of downtown from his living room.” Her friend’s face turned serious. “Are you sure it’s not him?”

  Alicia shook her head, perplexed. “His name’s Rick. Of course it’s not him.”

  “I don’t know, Alicia. He’s a shipping heir, tall, dark and handsome, races yachts and lives at the Houston Omni. Don’t you think that’s a bit too much of a coincidence?”

  Alicia frowned. “That is odd.”

  “I have a weird feeling it’s the same guy.”

  Cold fear skated down Alicia’s spine. “Why would he change his name?”

  “I can’t even begin to imagine.” Cara frowned. “You know what? There’s a picture of Justin Dupree in last month’s Vanity Fair. Let’s go look at it and you can tell me if he looks anything like your Rick. They’ve probably still got a copy in the library.”

  Eight

  T he library’s stone fireplace and gleaming black and white floor always gave Alicia the sense of being in a grand castle.

  Today, she felt like she was heading for the execution block.

  Couldn’t Cara just let her enjoy her first-ever chance to brag about a hot date?

  Now a creepy mystery cast a shadow over her glorious weekend with Rick.

  Or at least she thought he was Rick.

  Cara riffled through a stack of magazines spread over a low shelf while Alicia stood nearby.

  Doubts skated around her mind, bumping into faith that it was all a silly misunderstanding. Hopefully Justin Dupree—whoever he was—would look nothing whatsoever like Rick.

  “There he is.” Cara stabbed the shiny page with a fingernail, then handed it to Alicia.

  Her red snapper turned into a lead ball in her stomach when she saw the picture: Rick, gorgeous in black tie, with both arms wrapped around the impossibly slim waist of a smiling blonde in a barely-there dress.

  She scanned the caption: “Shipping Heir Justin Dupree Squires Mila Jankovich to Blake Foundation Gala.”

  Her rib cage turned into a vice, tightening over her heart. “It’s him,” she breathed. “I can’t believe it. Why would he lie to me?” Tears already hovered in her voice.

  “I don’t know, sweetie, but we’ll find out.” Cara slid an arm around her back.

  Alicia’s initial shock was quickly morphing into anger. “Why didn’t he want me to know who he is? I noticed he didn’t introduce me to anyone at the yacht club.” She frowned and put the magazine down on a table. “And now that I think about it, he wouldn’t come into this club with me, either. Now I know why.” She blew out a breath. “It might have been awkward if one of his buddies slapped him on the back and said, ‘Hey, Justin!’”

  “It is odd. He’s a member here, though he doesn’t come all that often. I guess he travels a lot. Or maybe just hangs out at the yacht club, instead.”

  “You know him?”

  “I’ve met him. He’s friends with Mitch and Lance.”

  “Mitch and Lance Brody?” Alicia’s eyes widened.

  Cara smiled. “Do you know any other Mitch and Lance combos?”

  Alicia’s body grew cold. “Mitch and Lance think Alex set the fire at their refinery. They hate him.”

  A nasty possibility occurred to her. “Do you think they could have sent Justin my way to dig up information about Alex?”

  Cara stared at her, blue eyes wide with confusion. “I can’t imagine they’d stoop to something like that. I admit I don’t know Justin all that well, but I’m sure he’s too busy to get involved in intrigues.” She squeezed Alicia’s hand. “Oh, sweetie, I know how much he meant to you.”

  “Believe me, I am eternally in your debt.” Her voice sounded as calm and cold as she felt. “I’m glad I found out now and not after he’d had more fun at my expense.”

  “I’m pretty sure Kevin knows him. Maybe he can she
d some light on the whole situation.”

  Humiliation burned in Alicia’s gut. “Please don’t tell Kevin. Or anyone.” She glanced over her shoulder and was glad to find the library empty. “It’d be so awful if everyone knew. Or if Alex found out.”

  Ugh! She’d trusted her own instincts for once, followed her pathetic, girlish heart, and look what happened.

  She blinked to keep tears from springing to her eyes.

  “Hey, here’s a crazy idea.” Cara reached into her bag for a tissue and offered it, but Alicia shook her head. “Why don’t you ask him?”

  “Ask Rick? I mean, Justin?” She snorted. “I wouldn’t even know how to address him when he picked up the phone.” She shook her head. “I’d rather die than give him another chance to lie to me.”

  Her spine grew rigid as she realized the extent of his deception. “We spent the whole weekend together—literally every hour—so he had ample time to tell me who he really is if he was ever going to. Which apparently he wasn’t.”

  “It doesn’t make any sense.”

  “The only way it makes sense is if he wanted to keep me separate from his real life. A bit on the side.” She glanced back at the glossy issue of Vanity Fair. “Why does that woman look familiar?”

  “She’s a model.” Cara waved a hand as if to dismiss her. “Does some fashion stuff and a bunch of Revlon ads. Very overexposed.”

  “Great. His real girlfriend is a supermodel. I guess I should feel bad for her, too.” The tears threatened again. “I want to go home.”

  “Listen, Alicia, that picture means nothing. Just because he took some girl to a gala does not mean he’s engaged to her.”

  “Then why is he wrapped around her like a tortilla?” She shrugged her clutch bag higher under her arm. “It doesn’t matter anyway. It’s over between us.”

  “Oh, sweetie. Maybe there’s some perfectly reasonable explanation.”

  “Yeah. Maybe he was abducted by aliens and they sent him back to earth with a new identity.” She cocked her head.

  “I said a reasonable explanation.”

  “When you come up with one, give me a call.”

  “I’m so sorry.” Cara’s pretty face was taut with distress. “I wish I wasn’t the bearer of the bad news.”

  Alicia gave her a hug. “You’re a true friend. A lot of people would have let me go on seeing him because they didn’t want to make waves. I’m very grateful. I just need to go home and have a good cry.”

  Justin couldn’t understand it. He’d called Alicia when he landed in Hong Kong and left a message on her cell.

  No response.

  Okay, so some people had trouble with international dialing codes. He called back first thing the next morning, which was early evening in Houston.

  No answer. Left another message.

  Now, three days later he’d left at least six messages and had yet to hear a word from her.

  He loosened his tie and stretched out in the leather chair at his hotel desk.

  Not talking to her was driving him mad. If he couldn’t enjoy the feel of her soft body against his, he at least wanted to hear her warm, sensual voice over the phone. He missed her with an ache that tightened his muscles. He couldn’t remember ever hurting this badly for a woman.

  Alicia was so different from all the other women he’d dated. Self-possessed and calm, she didn’t try to impress him by bragging about her accomplishments. Instead, he had to tease them out of her.

  She was thoughtful and caring, as evidenced by the lovely dinner she made for him. Ever since, he’d been longing to try his hand in the kitchen so he could make something for her and return the gesture.

  In addition to being brilliant and kind, she was also smoking hot between the sheets—and anywhere else they happened to be when the mood struck.

  And fun. Sailing with her had been a blast. He could tell her first taste of speed had given her an appetite for more. She’d be a great racing companion, with her no-nonsense, practical attitude and her sunny approach to life.

  She was a great companion, period. And he wanted to spend a lot of time with her. Possibly even the rest of his life.

  Justin blew out hard. Suddenly everything looked different. Traveling wouldn’t be an end in itself if he had Alicia to come home to. He wouldn’t need to blow off steam by partying and jumping off mountains anymore.

  He could think of far better ways to unwind—in Alicia’s arms.

  His phone lay on the desk, its shiny black surface an affront. He wanted to pick it up and call her again, but there was such a thing as coming on too strong.

  Not something he’d ever thought about before.

  Usually he was the one hoping someone would back off. He generally tired of women before they tired of him—right around the time they started hinting at something permanent.

  That sent him off in a cloud of dust.

  Justin frowned.

  Maybe Alicia needed to cool off a little after all the time they’d spent together.

  When he got back he’d bring her a big bunch of flowers, deal with the awkward business about his name, and start over again.

  He leaned back in his chair. Only three more days. He could handle it.

  “You’ve been working late all week.” Alex frowned at Alicia as she came through the door at the ranch late on Friday evening. Her usual glow had noticeably dimmed and she seemed rushed and tense.

  “Busy. We’re gearing up for a visiting exhibition, which involved stripping down the big gallery and packing all the pieces away. Today the walls went up, but they still need painting.”

  She marched into the kitchen and threw her big leather bag on the island. “And I’ve got a bunch of phone calls to make about the plans for downtown.”

  “No wonder you look tired.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “But usually you love all that stuff. You hate having too little to do. Is something else going on?”

  She blinked, and if he wasn’t mistaken, she swallowed. “Nope. Nothing.” She bustled over to the fridge and started unloading storage containers onto the island.

  “Alicia….” He said her name in the singsong way that drove her crazy. “I don’t believe you.”

  “Don’t then.” She opened up a container and sniffed.

  Alex frowned. She hadn’t actually snapped at him, but that’s what it felt like.

  Something was definitely going on. His first instinct was to collar his baby sister and make her ’fess up. But his urge to protect Alicia sometimes threatened to drive a wedge between them. He held himself in check. She was a grown woman, and entitled to some privacy.

  He wasn’t going to say a single word.

  Not yet, anyway. If she was still moping by Monday he wouldn’t be able to restrain himself.

  The phone rang, and instead of moving to answer it like she usually did, Alicia started spooning leftover casserole into a baking dish.

  “I’ll get it,” he said. She did too much around here. Who was he to assume it was her job to answer the phone, anyway?

  “No.” Her sharp answer made him stop in his tracks. “I will.”

  But instead of picking up the phone on the wall in the kitchen, she hurried down the hall to the den.

  And she didn’t pick it up there, either.

  Alex stuck his head out the kitchen door in time to see her crouch to read the caller ID. Instead of picking up the handset, she pushed the button to send the message straight to voice mail.

  Curiosity overtook him. Like a vaquero stealing up on a runaway calf, he crept down the hallway.

  With her attention fixed on the machine blurting its greeting in her friendly voice, Alicia didn’t even see him.

  “Alicia, it’s me…uh…Rick. I’ve been calling your cell all week but there’s no answer. I know you told me not to call you at home, but I’m worried about you.”

  Cold shock settled into Alex’s stomach.

  Alicia was seeing someone. Or not seeing him. Apparently, she was avoiding this
Rick’s phone calls.

  This man was bothering her. Pestering her.

  Rick who? He didn’t know any Rick. He was nervous about her being around those moneyed hotshots at the Texas Cattleman’s Club, but so far she hadn’t shown a peep of interest in any of them.

  Or so he’d thought.

  He sucked in a deep, silent breath. Alicia stood watching the phone, arms crossed and eyes narrowed.

  “I don’t know what’s going on, but I had a wonderful time with you and I’m really looking forward to seeing you again. I’m back in Houston and you know where to find me. So, call me, okay?”

  The machine clicked off. Something in Alex clicked into the on position. “Who the hell was that?”

  Alicia wheeled around and gasped. “What are you doing listening to my phone calls?”

  “Since when did you start keeping secrets from me?”

  Tears welled in her big brown eyes. “Since I started wanting a life of my own.” Anger and pain rang in her voice. “But I haven’t been doing a very good job of it, so go ahead and yell at me.”

  She stormed past him down the hallway and back into the kitchen. She shoved the casserole dish into the microwave and punched the numbers with uncharacteristic drama.

  Alex fought the urge to yell.

  His natural instinct to go ballistic was an “opportunity,” according to the corporate management book he’d been reading lately. An opportunity to become more…approachable.

  He drew in a measured breath. “Would you like to tell me what’s going on?”

  “Not really.” She swiped at a tear with her wrist, and turned to pull the lid off a container of day-old rice.

  When Alicia stopped cooking and started reheating leftovers, something was very wrong.

  “What did this Rick do to you?” He managed to keep his tone even.

  “Nothing. Nothing at all. It doesn’t matter.” She slammed open a kitchen cabinet and retrieved two dishes with a loud clatter.

  “Alicia Montoya, I know you better than I know myself and I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this upset. Now you want to lie to me and tell me everything’s okay?”

  She stopped dead, hands frozen in midair with their plates.