More Than a Mistress

by Leanne Banks

  Everything would be perfect if the clock hadn’t read seven o’clock. He’d told her six-thirty.

  Tired of fidgeting, she went into the living room and sat down in a lounger. She pulled out a magazine and stared blankly at the pages. Her earlier sense of anticipation had fizzled during the last five minutes. Daniel was more reliable than this. There must be something wrong, she told herself. His tardiness wasn’t a reflection on her. It was obviously due to external factors.

  A niggling doubt, however, pulled at her. Her two serious romantic relationships had accustomed her to waiting for men. With the senator it had been a matter of waiting for him to call, waiting to see him and waiting to be with him. With her husband it had been a matter of keeping his dinner warm while he worked late, keeping his bed warm when he was tired and waiting in vain for his disapproval to wane.

  In the back of her mind she’d always doubted that she’d been good enough for him. When he’d learned about the senator, his reaction had reinforced the belief. Still she’d waited and hoped that one day he would look at her without censure. Her hope had died with him.

  She could hear the therapist’s words: You’re a good person, Sara. You’re lying if you tell yourself anything different. Make sure you don’t let anyone else tell you differently either.

  Sara rose to her feet and tossed the magazine on the sofa. Damn right, she was a good person. And if Daniel Pendleton thought differently, he could forget any future rain checks, kisses in cars or anything else.

  Feeling a kick of energy after her little pep talk, she gave a huff of righteous pride and stomped around the den, repeating a few self-affirmations. She’d worked past her ebbing spirits when the oven timer dinged. Sara stopped, looking in the direction of the kitchen. The bread was ready.

  And she had no guest to serve it to.

  Three hours later while she wiped the counters, the phone rang. She considered not answering it. After spending most of the evening trying not to jump to unflattering conclusions about Daniel, she was in no mood to hear any half-baked excuses about why he wasn’t here. Reluctantly she picked it up on the fifth ring. “Hello.”

  “Sara, this is Daniel,” he said in a breathless rush.

  His voice sounded so good that her heart squeezed in her chest. She exhaled in relief, and the unsettling, doubt-filled tension immediately left her body.

  “It’s been an awful night. Erin had an emergency with one of her mares, and I got tied up. I’m sorry, but I swear this is the first chance I had to call you.”

  She heard his earnest frustration, and suddenly everything was okay. Sara recalled that several of Erin’s horses were in foal. “Is the mare okay?”

  “The mare is,” he said quietly.

  “And the foal?”

  “She lost it.”

  Her heart sank. She could sense his disappointment. “I’m so sorry. Do they know what caused it?”

  “Not yet. The vet’s gonna run some tests. Damn, I hate to see this kind of thing happen during their first Christmas together.”

  “I know,” she agreed. “At least they’ve got each other.”

  “Yeah.”

  “How’s Luke?”

  “Upset and confused.”

  She sighed, feeling helpless. “Is there anything I can do?”

  “Nah. Carly brought over some food that everybody picked at. Everyone’s just gonna hit the sack early tonight, especially Erin and Garth. I think they want to try to put it behind them as soon as possible.”

  “I’m really sorry.”

  “Yeah, and I’m really sorry that I didn’t get to see you tonight.”

  Sara felt a twist in her stomach. “The mare was more important.”

  “Maybe.” He took a deep breath. “But now I’ve got to try to talk you into giving me a rain check on my rain check.”

  She felt the beginning of a grin. “Sounds complicated.”

  “Sounds tough.”

  Sara twirled the phone cord around her fingers. “Oh, I don’t know. You’ll probably think of something.”

  “It’s damn lousy for a guy to push for a date and not show up. Most men wouldn’t get another chance.”

  Sara stopped twisting the cord. “You’re not most men.”

  A long silence followed, and on the other end of the line Daniel took a long time catching his breath. She affected him that way. He’d wondered if she would snub him. Hell, he’d been nervous about calling her because he feared he’d messed up his chances with her. Instead she knocked him for a loop with that last statement.

  “I really wanted to see you tonight,” he growled.

  “Me too.”

  Her husky voice made his blood heat. “Tomorrow night.”

  “It’s Christmas Eve. Your family—”

  Daniel swore. He had to struggle to rein in his frustration. “Okay. December twenty-sixth at six o’clock.”

  “That’s Sunday.”

  His patience long gone, he shook his head. “Tough.”

  On Christmas morning Sara slept in. She’d planned it that way. Sleeping late helped make long holidays feel shorter. She slipped on ancient slippers along with her silk robe, piled her hair on top of her head and relished being a slob. After celebrating with a chocolate croissant for breakfast, she gave Pavi his food and an extra doggie treat. The puppy showed his gratitude by nearly licking her to death and puddling on the floor.

  Sara cleaned up, then drew close the gate she’d installed in the kitchen doorway. She put a Christmas CD on the player, and opened the presents under her little tree. A sales rep who’d asked her out every time he passed through Beulah gave her a bottle of wine, and a travel agent in Chattanooga had sent her a huge box of fine chocolates.

  She considered the wine. “Well, why not?” she muttered and went back to the kitchen to pop the cork. After pouring some into a crystal wineglass she took it with her to the den and alternated a few sweet chocolate candies with sips of the semidry wine. Sara sighed at the decadent flavor combination.

  She’d saved Carly’s gift for last—a gorgeous hand-embroidered sweater and an extra week of vacation in January. Go someplace where you won’t need this sweater, the note said.

  Sara smiled. Maybe she would. It was a gray day, and the weather made her think of past Christmases. She’d spent a few with her mother. Sometimes there’d been a man around, sometimes not. There’d been happier times spent with foster parents. Her thoughts wandered to the Christmas she’d spent alone because the senator had needed to be with his family. Mistresses, she’d learned, got romantic moments and presents, but they didn’t get holidays.

  She thought of Daniel and wondered if he would think of her the same way. Her heart gave a little wrench. He wanted sex with her. That was obvious. She wanted sex with him. She couldn’t—and wouldn’t—deny it. Was she getting herself into the same kind of relationship that had been her downfall before?

  “Ridiculous,” she said aloud, wanting to banish the distressing notion from her mind. Daniel wasn’t a senator. He wasn’t paying for her apartment, and she surely wasn’t some naive, eighteen-year-old virgin. So what if they weren’t broadcasting their relationship? They were both private people and wouldn’t want others gossiping.

  Something about it, though, left a bad taste in her mouth. Sara shook it off, gave Pavi the wrapping paper to shred, which he did with gusto all over the kitchen floor, while she removed from the freezer her turkey-and-dressing dinner. She refused to fix a meal with all the trimmings when she was feeding only herself.

  The doorbell startled her, making her drop the frozen meal. Pavi started barking and trying to leap over the gate.

  “Hush,” Sara said. She looked down at the robe she still wore and grimaced at her appearance. The bell rang again, spurring her to the door.

  To Daniel.

  Speechless, Sara held her breath and simply stared at him. He wore a down jacket, red V-neck sweater, slim-fitting jeans and boots. She jerked her gaze back to his face and caught the gleam
in his violet eyes and a hint of a bad-boy grin curving his lips. Sara was acutely aware that he looked great, and she did not.

  “Merry Christmas, Sara.”

  “Merry Christmas,” she managed. “What are you doing here?”

  He moved toward the door and nudged her to the side. “Picking you up for Christmas dinner with the Pendletons. Carly sent me. How’s the hound?” he asked, nodding toward her barking dog.

  “Fine. Carly must be confused,” Sara returned, quite certain that neither Carly nor Daniel were confused. They were just pushy. “I told her I wouldn’t be able to make it today.” Remembering that her frozen dinner was in the middle of the floor, she headed toward the kitchen. “I’ve already got other plans.”

  Daniel matched her step for step. “What are you doing?”

  Sara blocked the kitchen doorway with her body. “It’s been a busy week, so I thought I’d have a quiet holiday. Tell Carly I said thanks, but—”

  Daniel reached past her to pet Pavi and suddenly stopped. He spotted the frozen dinner and the bottle of wine at the same time. Unsettled, he looked at Sara again. She was in a silk robe. Her hair was sexily mussed, her chin had a smudge of chocolate on it and she looked slightly alarmed, as if she’d been caught at something. Daniel had a sinking feeling in his gut. He wondered just what he’d interrupted. He wondered if someone was in her bedroom waiting for her. Jealousy slammed into him.

  Past her shoulder in the den, he spied a wineglass and a box of chocolates. He cleared his throat and with enormous restraint said, “Did I come at a bad time?”

  Sara looked in the same direction as his gaze and turned back to him with an overly bright smile and flushed cheeks. “Not really. I was just testing my Christmas presents.”

  He lifted an eyebrow. “Wine and chocolate?”

  “I happen to like wine and chocolate,” she said a little defensively as she stepped over the gate into the kitchen. “Not everyone in the Western Hemisphere gets up at the crack of dawn on Christmas morning and eats a huge breakfast and then eats a huge dinner.”

  “I didn’t say they did.”

  She snatched the frozen turkey dinner off the floor, and before she could shove it into the freezer, Daniel took it from her hands and stared at her. If possible, she looked even more embarrassed than before. Bringing his libido and ego to heel, he tried to make sense of the situation.

  He noticed there was only one turkey dinner, but he had to make sure. “I see one wineglass. Does that mean there was only one person drinking wine and eating chocolates when I rang your doorbell?” The image of feeding her chocolates raced through his mind and heated his blood.

  Confusion clouded her wide eyes. “I—yes.”

  Daniel felt a rush of relief and put the turkey dinner into the freezer. “I’m always interested in other people’s holiday customs. Just out of curiosity, what time did you get up this morning?”

  Sara hesitated, frowning. “Ten-thirty, but—”

  Daniel shook his head, remembering that he’d been up at six. “So this is Sara’s version of Christmas. Sleeping in, then Perry Como, wine and chocolates.”

  Sara stiffened. Her eyes flashed with anger. “I really don’t appreciate—”

  Daniel covered her mouth with his hand. He’d waited too long to touch her, so he plunged his other hand through the knot of silky hair on her head. “I just want to know if I can buy a ticket for next year.”

  Sara jerked her head back. “You haven’t slept late a single day in your life.”

  “That’s not true. I had the flu four years ago and didn’t get up for three days.”

  Sara looked at the ceiling in mock disgust. “You wouldn’t know what to do in bed past seven a.m.”

  Daniel gently pressed her back against the refrigerator. “Between the chocolates, wine and you, I think I’d come up with something.”

  Sara bit her lip. “Get your hand out of my hair.”

  “You want me to put it somewhere else?” he murmured next to her ear. She wiggled against him, and Daniel nearly groaned. She always made him feel a raw edge of hunger. Why had he waited so long to appease his curiosity about this woman?

  “Daniel—”

  He gave in to one of his many cravings and kissed the chocolate smudge on her chin. “You know, Sara, I’m really hurt that you didn’t invite me over for your holiday celebration.”

  “I thought,” she said, swallowing and turning her head, “you’d be busy with your family.”

  Daniel ran his lips over her exposed neck. “So I missed breakfast. And it’s already time for lunch. If I asked very nicely,” he began, but got distracted by the taste of her skin.

  Sara’s hands hovered over his shoulders. Then, as if her resistance caved in, she dropped her hands to his chest. “Asked what?”

  Daniel lowered his mouth to hers. The flavors of wine, chocolate and Sara mingled and went straight to his head. He pulled away and was gratified to see her shortness of breath. “If I asked very nicely, would you join me for lunch?”

  “I’m not dressed.”

  He lowered his mouth and suckled her lower lip. “I’ll help you.”

  Her throaty laugh had the same effect as a stroke from her hand on his groin. She opened her mouth and gave him a kiss that made him feel as if he’d finally gotten every Christmas present he’d ever wanted. When his hands wandered to the deep V of her robe, she pulled back. Her eyes were hazy with desire. “Sorry you missed breakfast,” she said in a husky voice.

  “Does that mean yes to lunch?”

  Sara’s lips curved into a generous smile. “I guess you talked me into it.” She eased away from him and turned toward the hall. “Give me ten minutes.”

  Daniel clasped her wrist. “I said I’d help.”

  “No.” She wiggled her hand free. “Help yourself to the wine and chocolates while you wait.”

  Daniel took her suggestion, and when he sampled her gifts, he learned who the senders were. The notion that other men were vying for her attention didn’t sit well, especially since he’d neglected to get her anything. Even Carly’s note irritated him, making him wonder where Sara would go for her vacation and if she would invite someone to go with her.

  Forty-five minutes later Sara and Daniel walked into the Pendleton home. All conversation between six brothers, a couple of spouses, a few dates and several family friends ceased, and Sara was immediately bombarded by greetings.

  “Sara!”

  “Glad you could make it.”

  “We wondered when you’d get here.”

  Feeling a little overwhelmed, she gulped, said, “Merry Christmas!” then headed for refuge in the kitchen.

  Carly was there checking the thermometer on the turkey in the oven. “Fifteen minutes,” she called out to the group.

  “Did you fix all this food?” Sara asked as she looked at the array of dishes set on the counter.

  “Oh, no. Erin brought a few things, but I picked up double sizes of most of the casseroles from the grocery deli.” Carly put down her oven mitts and hugged Sara. “I’m really glad you could come. I was afraid you wouldn’t.”

  Her heart caught at the sincerity in Carly’s voice. Sara truly was lucky to have such a friend. “I should have brought something.”

  Carly pulled away, her lips twitching. “You didn’t have much time to fix anything, did you?”

  “No. You didn’t have to do this. Daniel said you’d sent him.”

  Carly arched an eyebrow. “Oh, really? I was on my way out the door when he suggested we flip a coin for the privilege of picking you up.” She made a face. “He was in charge of flipping the coin, and I think he cheated. He didn’t torture you or anything, did he?”

  Sara felt blood rush to her face. Did Daniel’s kisses constitute torture? “Daniel’s not the kind to torture.”

  Carly shook her head and grinned. “You’re being polite. I can tell by the tone of your voice.”

  “Who’s being polite?” Daniel asked as he stepped into the
room. He took a celery stick and stood beside Sara.

  “Sara,” Carly answered. “I asked her if you’d tortured her into coming today.”

  “Oh, yeah.” Grinning, Daniel slid his hand into Sara’s hair and gave one lock a little tug. “What did she say?”

  Sara watched Carly open her mouth and decided to answer for herself. “I said you weren’t the type to torture.” She couldn’t decide if she liked the glint in his eyes or not. She did know, however, that she liked his hands in her hair entirely too much. “Torturer isn’t the right word.”

  “Then what’s the right word?” Carly asked, clearly enjoying the exchange. “Make it a good one, like arrogant.”

  Sara nodded, still meeting the challenge in Daniel’s gaze. “Maybe.”

  “Gorgeous?” Daniel offered.

  Sara bit her lip to keep from laughing. “Perhaps.”

  “Egotistical,” Carly suggested.

  “Yes,” Sara said without hesitation.

  Irritation narrowed Daniel’s eyes. He gave her hair another little secret tug. “Irresistible.”

  “We’ll see.” Sara watched Daniel’s eyes darken, and smiled. “You’ve both got great suggestions, but the word I was thinking describes both you and Carly.

  Two pairs of violet eyes widened in amazement. “What?” Carly and Daniel demanded.

  Sara laughed. “Pushy.”

  Chapter Seven

  Just as Daniel and Carly recovered enough to respond, the timer went off. Literally saved by the bell, Sara thought.

  Daniel gave her a glare that managed to combine threat with sensual promise. “We’ll continue this later,” he growled.

  Sara made a tsking sound. “Pushy. Pushy.”

  He bent low to her ear. “Honey, what you’ve seen from me is patient, not pushy.”

  “Should I have used the term overly assertive instead?” she asked in a whisper. “Did you know that the first three letters in assertive—”

  He put his thumb over her lips. “You’ve got a busy mouth.”

  Daniel could make Sara forget too easily all her resolutions about being conservative and not flirting or teasing. Staying out of trouble didn’t seem to be an option when it came to him. “You don’t like it?” she challenged.