Much More Than a Mistress

by Michelle Celmer

  He helped her in, then walked around and got in the driver’s side. The interior was dark gray leather and smelled like a mix of new car and Jordan’s cologne. A country station was playing on the radio, which surprised her a little. He struck her as more of the classic rock type.

  “So, what kind of car is this?” she asked as he pulled out of the lot and zipped into traffic.

  “A Porsche Spyder Coupe.”

  “It’s nice.”

  “Thanks.”

  “How much does a car like this cost, if you don’t mind my asking.”

  “Six hundred and some change,” he said, downshifting to turn a corner.

  “Six hundred thousand? That’s… Wow.”

  He looked over at her and grinned. “Yeah, but it makes me look good.”

  It sure did. And it was a testament to just how loaded he was. He was so easygoing and unpretentious, she sometimes forgot the magnitude of his wealth and power. And for whatever reason, he wanted her.

  The thought made her smile.

  “So, I figured you would be celebrating your birthday with your family tonight.”

  The smile slipped from her face. “Yeah, me too.”

  He glanced over at her. “Are you saying that they forgot?”

  She shrugged and said, “It’s not a big deal.” And if she kept telling herself that, maybe she would start believing it.

  “Have you ever forgotten one of their birthdays?”

  Of course not. She was reliable Jane. “I think it’s my punishment for leaving the practice, for going against their wishes. Sometimes they act like I’m not even a part of the family any longer.”

  He reached over and brushed her hair back from her face. It was such a sweet gesture, for some stupid reason it made her feel like crying. But she was not the crying type, so it must have been the alcohol.

  “Families suck,” he said.

  Wasn’t that the truth. She was so tired of feeling as if she wasn’t good enough, as though what she wanted, and her happiness, didn’t matter. She sighed and laid her head back, letting her eyes drift closed. She listened to the melody playing softly on the radio, and Jordan’s voice singing slightly off-key with Keith Urban.

  She must have drifted off, because the next thing she knew, Jordan was calling her name and nudging her awake.

  Jane’s eyes fluttered open and she bolted upright. “I’m sorry. Did I fall asleep?”

  “It’s okay,” Jordan said, rubbing her shoulder. “We’re here.”

  She looked out the windshield, a frown creasing her brow. “Um…where is here?”

  He cut the engine. “The parking garage of my building.”

  “I thought you were taking me home.”

  “I did. To my home.”

  She shot him an exasperated look.

  He grinned. “I’m sorry, did you want me to take you to your home?”

  She shook her head and laughed, as if she thought he was hopeless. “Yeah, that was the idea.”

  He liked making her smile, making her happy. “Well, in my defense, you never actually specified. But since you’re already here, you may as well come up and have a look around.” After all, that was probably part of her plan to get information. She must have figured out by now that there was nothing in his office to suggest he had anything to do with the sabotage. Logically the next place to look would be his home. Not that she would find anything there either, but she could try. He wanted her to know that he would never do anything to hurt anyone. He didn’t even know why he cared. He just did.

  “Jordan—”

  “Listen, it’s nine o’clock on a Friday night and you’re clearly upset. What kind of friend would I be if I let you spend the evening alone watching Arnold Schwarzenegger, scarfing caramel nut swirl ice cream.”

  He could tell by her expression, that was exactly what she would have done.

  “You must think I’m an idiot for even caring what they think,” she said.

  He draped his arm over the back of her seat, leaning in. “Jane, I just spent two days at the bedside of a mother who missed my high school graduation because she had a hair appointment.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Seriously. So who do you think is the bigger idiot?”

  For a long moment she just looked at him, searching his face. “How do you do it?”

  “Do what?”

  “Always manage to say exactly the right thing,” she said, then she slipped her hand behind his neck, pulled him closer and kissed him. It was the last thing he expected. He thought he was going to have to work for it, seduce her into seeing things his way. He wasn’t sure what he’d done but obviously it had worked.

  She broke the kiss and gazed up at him. “Take me upstairs, Jordan, right now, before I change my mind.”

  “Let’s go.”

  They got out of the car and crossed the garage to the elevator. The second they were inside, and the doors slid closed, her arms were around him and her lips were on his. He had kissed a lot of women, but no one put more heart and soul into it. More honesty. If he were a better man, he would take into consideration the fact that she was slightly compromised by the drinks, and maybe not thinking one hundred percent clearly, but as she rubbed her hand over the crotch of his jeans she seemed to know exactly what she wanted. And there was no question for him either.

  The doors opened at the top floor. He grabbed her hand and pulled her into the foyer of his penthouse.

  “You own the entire top floor?” she asked.

  “I own the building. I live on the top floor.” He punched his code into the pad and opened the door, pulling her inside. It was dark, but for the lamp next to the couch.

  “Wow,” Jane said, taking in the open-concept space, tugging her jacket off and draping it across the back of an overstuffed chair. “This is nice. It’s not at all what I expected.”

  He did the same with his jacket. “What did you expect?”

  “Something more modern. Glass and steel and black leather. And I like the dark wood and the earth tones, and the furniture looks so soft and comfortable” She unbuttoned the jacket of her suit and tossed that on the chair too. She wore another one of those sleeveless, silky numbers underneath. “It’s so…homey and warm.”

  “Thanks,” he said, unbuttoning his shirt. “I’ve always believed a house should be a home. Although I can’t really take credit. I hired a decorator.”

  She nodded to the bank of windows across the room, clearly dazzled by the panoramic view of the city. “The view is amazing.”

  “It’s the main reason I bought the building.”

  She pulled her top over her head and dropped it on the growing pile. She wore a sheer white bra underneath. Her breasts were on the small side, but what she had was so beautiful, he didn’t care. He had always been more of a leg man, and hers were long and lean and perfect, especially when they were wrapped around his waist. Or his shoulders, or pretty much any part of his body.

  She unzipped her skirt and pushed it down her legs. Under it she wore a matching thong and, hot damn, those thigh-high stockings.

  She grabbed the front of his shirt, backed herself against the wall beside the door and pulled him in for a kiss. And damn could she kiss. She pushed the shirt off his shoulders and he tugged it down his arms. She arched her back, rubbing her lace-covered breasts against his chest, devouring his mouth. He slipped a hand inside her panties and she moaned, biting down on his lower lip. He dipped into her wet heat, teasing her with feather-light strokes.

  Her breath was coming harder and faster. He yanked the cup of her bra down and licked the tip of her breast, then he sucked it into his mouth. She gasped and her head fell back. Since she seemed to like it, he did the same thing to the other side. She moaned and started to shake all over, then her body clamped down hard around his fingers. He’d been with women it took forever to satisfy, until it was more of a chore than actual fun. Jane was not one of those women.

  “Maybe we should move this to my
bedroom,” he said.

  She gazed up at him with lust glazed eyes and tugged his pants open. “No, right here. Against the wall.”

  “Condoms are in the bedroom.”

  She shoved his pants down and he kicked them off. “I’ve got it covered.”

  “You’re on the pill?”

  “IUD.”

  Good enough for him. He slid her panties down and she stepped out of them, then he lifted her off her feet, pinning her hard against the wall. She gasped and clamped her legs around his waist, wrapped her arms around his neck. He was afraid he might have hurt her, but her smile said she liked it. Despite her willowy physique, she was no delicate flower. She liked it a little rough; she wasn’t afraid to experiment either.

  His eyes locked on hers. He thrust inside of her, and without the condom to dull the sensation, the pleasure was so intense he nearly lost it. He tried to keep a slow, steady pace, but that just didn’t seem to be cutting it. Jane clawed her fingers through his hair, bumping her hips in time with his thrusts, moaning, “Harder.” He had no choice but to give her what she wanted, and when her muscles clamped around him and she moaned with release again, he tried to hold back, but seeing her look of utter bliss did him in.

  “Just when I think it can’t get any better, it does,” she said breathlessly, still clinging to him.

  He dropped his head on her shoulder, breathing hard. “Have I mentioned how good you are for my ego?”

  She laughed. “I seriously doubt your ego needs any help from me. I think you’re probably the most confident man I’ve ever met in my life.”

  “And I’m more irresistible than I thought. I brought you here with every intention of seducing you, but you beat me to it.”

  “I guess after five years of mediocre sex, then nine months of no sex at all, maybe I feel as if I deserve a little fun.”

  His knees were close to buckling, so he carried Jane the five feet to the couch and sat down with her in his lap. “Is that all this is? Fun?”

  She loosened her arms from around his neck, gazing at him with a puzzled look. “Where else do you see this going?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. All I do know is that one night with you wasn’t enough. Call me selfish, but I wanted more.”

  “How much more?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “A day, a week?”

  A lifetime? The way he was feeling tonight, he couldn’t imagine ever not wanting her. He barely knew her, yet he felt more connected to her than he’d ever felt to a woman. He didn’t even care that every so often she had to lie to him. That had to mean something, right?

  “I don’t know how long.” He reached up, stroked her cheek. “All I know is that everything in me is telling me that right now, this is what I need.”

  “The same rules apply. No one can know. Not our families or our friends. And especially not the people at work.”

  “Why?”

  She sighed. “Because that’s what I need.”

  Did he honestly think she was going to tell him the truth? That sleeping with a man she was investigating would get her fired. And who was he to judge her? By not telling her he knew who she really was, wasn’t he being just as dishonest? But the truth was going to come out eventually. He could only hope that when it did, they would have grown tired of each other. They could move on with their lives and no one would be hurt.

  “That means no more following me to dinners with my family.”

  He opened his mouth to deny it, and she held up a hand to shush him. “Don’t insult my intelligence. That was a little too coincidental. And trust me when I say that getting to know my family is a headache that you don’t want. If they think we’re dating, and they find out who you are, once they get past the shock of someone like you dating someone like me, they’re going to be planning our wedding.”

  “What do you mean, someone like me dating someone like you? Do you really think I’m that shallow?”

  “Isn’t that what you like people to think?”

  She had him there. It was just easier that way. And hell, maybe he was a little shallow.

  “I’ll stay away from your family,” he said.

  “Thank you.”

  His stomach rumbled loudly, and Jane grinned. “Hungry?”

  “I skipped dinner.”

  “The truth is, I didn’t do much more than pick at mine. Being with my family has a way of killing my appetite.”

  “We could order in.”

  “And eat naked in bed? I’ve always wanted to do that.”

  Her honest enthusiasm made him smile. “Anywhere you want.”

  And when they were finished eating, he was going to spend the rest of the evening making love to her.

  Twelve

  Despite being up half the night making love, Jane woke at her usual six-thirty the next morning—with a very naked, very warm, and very aroused male form curled up behind her.

  Tempted as she was to roll over and wake Jordan in a very pleasurable way—of which she could imagine several—this would be the perfect opportunity to do some snooping. Other than the living area and his bedroom, she hadn’t seen much of the apartment. The one room she was most interested in finding was his office.

  Her heart thumping with adrenaline, she slipped out of bed. Jordan mumbled in his sleep and rolled onto his back. Her clothes were still in a pile by the front door, so she tiptoed across the cool wood floor to his closet to look for something to wear. It was pitch-black, so she stepped inside and switched on the light, and when she saw her reflection in the floor-to-ceiling mirror across the room she actually gasped.

  Her hair was a tangled mess, the mineral foundation had completely worn off, leaving her horrible freckles exposed, and what little was left of her eyeliner and mascara was smeared below her eyes. Thank God she’d woken before Jordan. If he had seen her like this, for who she really was—boring Plain Jane—he wouldn’t be so eager to continue their affair.

  She grabbed a button-down shirt off a hanger and slipped it on, then she switched off the light and peeked out into the bedroom. Jordan was still sound asleep. She crept back to the bed where she’d left her purse and snatched it up off the floor. Thank goodness she kept her makeup with her at all times. She made her way quietly to the bathroom and stepped inside, leaving the door open just a crack, so the snap of it closing didn’t wake him.

  She switched on the light and dug through her purse for her hairbrush, using it to tug the tangles from her hair, which of course left it limp and lifeless. She flipped her head over and gave it a firm brushing in the hopes that she could beat at least a little bit of body into it. Then she fluffed it into place. Not great, but not awful either. But she really had to do something with her face.

  She found a rag and a hand towel in the closet and began to scrub off the remnants of last night’s makeup. One should always begin with a clean canvas, the makeup artist had told her. She dried off and scowled at her reflection. A couple of weeks ago she wouldn’t have thought twice about going to work this way, but now she could barely stand the sight of her naked face.

  She pulled her makeup bag out and fished through it for her mineral foundation and applicator brush. She opened the jar and dipped the brush in, tapping the excess off, then raised it to her cheek—

  “Good morning.”

  She jerked in surprise at the sound of Jordan’s voice and the brush slipped from her fingers. It dropped to the granite countertop, leaving a poof of mineral powder, then bounced over the side, hit the toilet seat and rolled into the bowl with a soft sploosh.

  Crap. What was she supposed to do now?

  “What are you doing?” Jordan asked, leaning in the doorway looking rumpled and sexy, wearing nothing but silk boxers and a smile.

  She cupped her hands over her naked face, since there wasn’t much else she could do. “Could I have a minute, please?”

  He looked at the brush in the toilet, then the makeup bag. “Are you putting on makeup?”

&nb
sp; “Yes,” she mumbled through her fingers.

  “It’s six-forty on a Saturday morning.”

  “I know what time it is.”

  “So come back to bed.”

  “Just let me fix my face.”

  “Why?”

  “Take my word, you don’t want to see me this way.”

  His expression went from amused to puzzled. “You’re serious.”

  “Very. So please, get lost and let me finish.”

  He folded his arms over that ridiculously toned chest. “No.”

  “I’m not kidding, Jordan, leave.”

  “You’ve piqued my interest. Now I have to see.”

  He was blocking the doorway so running wasn’t an option, and he outweighed her by at least sixty pounds, the majority of it muscle, so forcing her way past him wasn’t going to work either.

  “Jordan, please,” she said, feeling desperate.

  “I’m not leaving,” he said, “so you may as well drop your hands.”

  This was it, she thought. The end of her career at the agency. He was going to see how she really looked and realize the woman he’d been having an affair with was a fraud.

  Feeling resigned and defeated, she dropped her hands to her sides. Jordan’s eyes searched her face and she steeled herself for the look of disappointment. The indignation of a man who was known for dating supermodels and beauty queens realizing that he’d been tricked into bed with Plain Jane Monroe.

  Instead, a grin curled his mouth and he said, “You have freckles.”

  Her hands flew back up to cover her face, and mortified, she turned away from him. “I hate them.”

  “That wasn’t an insult,” he said with a laugh. “I think they’re adorable.”

  “They’re awful. I look awful.”

  “What are you talking about? You’re beautiful, Jane.”

  “You don’t have to lie to me to save my feelings. I know what I look like.”

  He stepped behind her and wrapped his hands around her wrists, forcing her to face the mirror, then he tugged her hands away from her face and held them at her sides. She averted her eyes, but he said, “Look at yourself.”