His One-Night Mistress

by Sandra Field

  Rosnikov was a wildly popular Russian pianist with a well-earned reputation as a womanizer. The words were out before Seth could censor them. “Is he your current lover?”

  “If he is, that’s none of your business. Didn’t you just say I was free to live my own life?”

  He had. Not one of his smarter pronouncements. “He’s bedded half the women in Europe.”

  “He’s also a marvelous musician,” she snapped.

  There was a red smudge under her chin where her violin had rested. Seth stared at it, willing himself to stay where he was. But a split second later, he was crushing her to his chest, kissing her as though she was the only woman in the world. All the curves of her body, the sweetness of her mouth, were so achingly familiar, so passionately desired…

  Lia clung to him, her lips parted to the dance of his tongue, her hips tight to the surge of his arousal; and knew she’d come home. Home? she thought in confusion. Meadowland is home. Not Seth. Seth’s too dangerous, too unpredictable.

  Then he thrust her away, his breathing harsh in his ears. “You can kiss me like that, and tell me in the same breath you’re Rosnikov’s lover?”

  “I never said I was!”

  Sunlight was flickering through her hair like tiny electric sparks. Seth said implacably, “Tell me when I can meet Marise.”

  “I’ll decide whether you can or not after you’ve found out about the letters. After you’ve had time to think very hard about what fatherhood implies. Marise has done just fine without a father for seven years. I won’t allow you to wander in and out of her life as your busy schedule permits—I won’t have her hurt, Seth.”

  “I’m damned if you’ll deprive her of her father!”

  “I’ll give you my phone numbers, including my cell. You can get in touch with me after Vienna. Assuming you can offer me concrete proof about the letters, we’ll talk then.”

  He said, keeping any trace of emotion from his voice, “I know you sent them. I believe you, in other words. I trust you. Why can’t you do the same for me?”

  “Try seeing it from my point of view,” she flared. “Eight years ago I was convinced you’d abandoned me, betraying our lovemaking in Paris by ignoring its consequences. The hurt went deep. Much too deep for me to now say blithely, sure, we’ll sleep together, Seth, and of course you can see my daughter any time that’s convenient for you.”

  “It wasn’t my fault that you were abandoned. Nor will I be kept from Marise.”

  “But you’d have to make a genuine commitment to her—I’m not sure you’re capable of that.”

  She looked as fierce as a mother bear defending her cub. Deep within him, respect stirred, mixed with unwilling admiration. He spoke the simple truth. “The commitment’s already made. The moment I saw Marise’s green eyes, I had no choice.”

  Lia let out her breath in a long sigh. “I play again with Ivor in Hamburg two days after Vienna. Then I fly home.” She did some quick calculations. “The fifteenth. You can call me then.”

  He already knew he wasn’t going to wait that long: a piece of information he kept to himself. If Lia d’Angeli thought she was going to call all the shots, she’d very soon find out she was wrong. “Fine,” Seth said.

  She’d expected him to argue. Conscious of a huge sense of anticlimax, Lia said, “When are you leaving the island?”

  “Tomorrow morning.”

  “I’ll get room service the rest of the day.”

  I’ll stay out of your way—that’s what she meant. And wasn’t that what he wanted, too? He took a scrap of paper from his pocket and wrote down the number for his personal cell phone, along with his e-mail address. “Will you forward me that photo of Marise?”

  Briefly she closed her eyes. “Yes.”

  “Thanks.” What else was there to say? Or do? He sure wasn’t going to kiss her again.

  There were faint blue shadows under her eyes and a tired droop to her mouth. He said roughly, “Take care of yourself, Lia,” and let himself out the door.

  His personal jet couldn’t get here until tomorrow. Otherwise he’d be leaving right now. Getting as far away from Lia as he could.

  Lia d’Angeli, the mother of his child.

  Dawn was normally Lia’s favorite time of the day: everything fresh, the illusion of a new beginning, the flourish of hope as the sun broke the horizon.

  On this, Seth’s last morning on the island, she merely felt miserably unhappy. After he’d left her cottage yesterday, she’d practiced her heart out, until she was more confident of the Brahms cadenza. She’d eaten outside on the patio, trying to convince herself she was getting the solitude and peace she craved. She’d even slept, off and on.

  There was no reason to feel so jangled and off-center. She’d kept in control of the situation yesterday, insisting Seth meet her terms. Well, almost in control. That kiss didn’t exactly qualify; and was no doubt the reason she’d woken so early this morning.

  When she got up, Lia had decided a swim might settle her nerves. Now she lay back in the saltwater, trying to empty her mind of anything but the beauty of her surroundings. On the waves, pearl-pink flecks reflected the dawn sky; a white tropic bird winged overhead, its long streamers flashing in the light. The sand was newly washed, the tulip tree near her cottage blazoned with huge orange blooms, each a miniature sunrise.

  She’d feel a lot better once she knew Seth had left.

  Hold that thought, Lia.

  She was trying to as, fifteen minutes later, she wandered up the beach toward her cottage, tugging off her swimcap and shaking out her long black hair. On the boardwalk, she used the little tap to rinse the sand from her feet, absently admiring the iridescent polish on her toenails. Frosted Mocha. She must buy it again.

  In the bushes, a bird gave a loud squawk of alarm. Lia glanced up, every nerve on alert. Her pulse skipped a beat. Seth had just emerged onto the beach, wearing skintight navy trunks, a towel slung over his shoulder. He hadn’t seen her.

  Then, as though he sensed her watching him, he looked right at her. The sun was in his eyes. He raised one hand, shading his face, and started walking toward her.

  Her heart was pounding in her rib cage; her feet were glued to the boardwalk. As he came closer, she saw that he’d removed the tape that had circled his chest. The scar, a livid, angry red, traversed his ribs from front to back.

  He could have been killed, she thought. If the bullet had gone a mere two inches to the left, she would never have seen him again. Did anything matter beside the immensity of that fact? Calmly, as though it was what she’d intended all along, Lia walked to meet him.

  To Seth, she looked like a goddess from the sea in her wet turquoise suit, the sunlight glinting on the droplets of water on her skin. Her level gaze was confident of its power, her gait so graceful it hurt him somewhere deep inside, a place he only rarely allowed to be touched. He swallowed hard, knowing he should run in the opposite direction, knowing equally strongly he was going to do nothing of the sort.

  She was his fate.

  He didn’t believe in fate.

  Then she reached him. With that same confidence she looped her arms around his neck, stood on tiptoes and kissed him full on the mouth.

  Desire slammed through him, hot and powerful. The kiss deepened, until Seth was aware of nothing but a fury of need. Her breasts, pressed to his bare chest, were hard-tipped, her nipples like tiny shells; grasping her by the hips, he ground her body to his, swamped by wave after wave of desire.

  Not here, he thought, desperately reaching for some restraint, you can’t make love to Lia on the beach. He took her by the hand, rubbing his cheek against the silky fragrance of her hair, and tried to slow his breathing. “Let’s go to my cottage,” he said huskily, and watched her smile her assent.

  Hand in hand, they walked the length of the boardwalk toward his cottage. Ushering her in, Seth kicked the door shut behind him and led her to his bedroom. He hadn’t made the bed, Lia noticed; the tumbled sheets where he’d spent the
night seemed incredibly intimate to her. Turning to face him, she said urgently, “I want to make love to you again, Seth. I want to stand naked in front of you.”

  As she strained upward, his head dropped to find her mouth; her lips were salty, soft and warm and passionately hungry. She drew his hips to hers, her fingers probing his taut buttocks. He said hoarsely, “You drive me crazy, Lia. But this time we mustn’t forget—”

  Quickly he opened the drawer on the bedside table, and took out a small foil envelope. She said in an odd voice, “Would I have thought of that?”

  “Just as long as one of us remembers.” His voice deepened. “I want you so much…”

  “You can have me. All of me. Now.”

  Reaching up, he dragged the turquoise straps off her shoulders. Her breasts were fuller than he remembered, their tips a rosy-pink in the dawn light. He slid the wet fabric down her hips, kneeling to pull the suit all the way to her slender, high-arched feet. Then he buried his face in her belly, moving lower, his hands clasping her thighs.

  She opened to him, burying her fingers in his thick blond hair, throwing back her head in ecstasy as he parted the petals of her flesh and unerringly found her center. Like wild-fire, the climax ripped through her, so powerful that she cried out in mingled shock and satiation.

  Slowly Seth rose to his feet, his mouth traveling all the curves of her body until he was standing upright. She said, trying to catch her breath, “Do you know what? I want more—how can I? It’s disgraceful!”

  “We’ve scarcely begun,” he said, his eyes trained on her face as she pulled back from him, her smile infinitely seductive. She was tugging at his chest hair, sliding her fingers over the rippled muscles of his belly, then edging his swimsuit free of his erection. The brush of her fingers against his taut flesh nearly drove him over the brink. As he kicked the suit to the floor, she said, “Your body’s so beautiful…kiss me, Seth—now. Drive me out of my mind.”

  It was all he needed to hear. Devouring the delectable softness of her lips, his teeth grazing her tongue, he drank deep of all the sweetness that was Lia. She was so willing, so eager, so incredibly generous that within moments he lost the last shred of his control. Flinging her back on the bed, he cupped her breast and took her nipple into his mouth, suckling her as she whimpered his name. Briefly he raised his head, drinking in the stunned pleasure on her face; her rib cage was a long arch, her eyes dark pools in which he could lose himself. You’re mine, he thought. All mine.

  Her hands were everywhere, teasing and enticing until they encircled him in a paradoxical mixture of passion and gentleness. Wasn’t that the essence of Lia, Seth thought in sudden insight; and then stopped thinking altogether. “I can’t wait,” he gasped, shoving himself up on his elbows and reaching for the envelope. He dealt with it swiftly, even as her legs widened to gather him in.

  As he plunged deep, her face convulsed, her breath rasping in her throat. Like a great surge of the sea, he was lifted until he could no longer withstand her fierce inner throbbing; they fused and fell together in a tumble of dazzling whiteness.

  Joined, Seth rolled on his side, pulling her with him. He dropped his face to her shoulder, dimly aware that his forehead was filmed with sweat. Salty, he thought. Like the sea.

  Her heart was thrumming, her body limp. He muttered, “Lia, are you okay?”

  His voice seemed to come from miles away. Slowly Lia came back to herself, to the weight of Seth’s arm over her ribcage and the hammerbeat of his heart so close it echoed in her ears. So close it could have been her own.

  But it wasn’t her own. It was Seth’s. Seth, with whom she’d just made love.

  It had happened again. Just like in Paris.

  What had she said to him yesterday? I won’t have an affair with you.

  This high-minded stance had lasted less than twenty-four hours. The basic truth was that she couldn’t keep her hands off him. Not here on a tropical island. Not, in all likelihood, at Meadowland, were he to go there. Meadowland, where Marise lived.

  “Are you all right, Lia?” Seth repeated patiently.

  “No.”

  She’d burrowed her head deeper into the pillow, hiding from him. Seth pulled free of her, went to the bathroom, then marched back into the bedroom; she was lying in exactly the same pose.

  His heart now felt cold in his chest. Making love to Lia definitely hadn’t been in his plans. Or in hers, he’d be willing to bet. In spite of himself, he glanced over at the clock. His plane was due to take off in less than two hours.

  He knelt on the bed and tugged on the silken fall of her hair. “Look at me.”

  She reared up, her dark eyes hostile. “We’re like a couple of alley cats—we can’t keep doing this!”

  “It’s only the second time in eight years.”

  “We’ve only seen each other twice in eight years,” she flashed with impeccable logic. “You can’t meet Marise—I won’t allow it. I won’t have her hurt because you and I behave like sex maniacs.”

  “Listen to me, Lia,” Seth said forcefully, and wondered who he was trying to convince, himself or her. “All the trappings of romance were in place this morning—tropical beach at dawn, you in that goddamned swimsuit, wet from the sea—what did you expect? Your farm won’t be like that—it’s domesticated, a family setting, you even have a nanny, for Pete’s sake. I’ve steered clear of stuff like that for years. A total turnoff.”

  “If you’re going to have anything to do with Marise, you’re going to tell me why the mere thought of a nanny makes you go into orbit.”

  “I’ll tell you what I choose to tell you, and no more.”

  She hated it when his eyes went as hard and sharp-edged as emeralds. “I call the shots as far as Marise is concerned,” she announced with matching adamancy, and in a flurry of bare limbs rolled off the bed and grabbed for her swimsuit. It was cold and damp, gritty with sand. She yanked it up her body, wishing with all her heart she’d gone to any other island than this one for her yearly vacation.

  Seth stood up, seizing her by the elbow. “I’ll be in touch after your concerts and we’ll make the arrangements then.”

  “No, Seth,” she said softly, “first you’ll find out what happened to my letters and you’ll tell me about it. The how and the why.”

  “Twenty minutes of scorching sex sure hasn’t affected your brain.”

  “I’m fighting for two—not just for myself.”

  With no idea where the words came from, Seth said, “What if I’m fighting for three?”

  “You’re not. So don’t kid yourself.”

  She was right. He wasn’t. “I’ve always dated malleable women who never raise their voices,” he said caustically. “No danger of that with you.”

  “None whatsoever.”

  “Say it, Lia. Before you’re the one who goes into orbit.”

  “A nice faraway orbit sounds like a fabulous idea. You can get in touch with me once I’m home from my concerts and I wish to heaven you’d put some clothes on.”

  Her eyes were dark pools of fury. He stepped closer. “We could shower together before you leave—that way we save water.”

  “Conservation’s a very fine cause, but it’s not my top priority right now.”

  “What is your top priority, darling Lia?”

  If his eyes had been jewel-hard a few moments ago, they now held all the shifting greens of a tropical sea. “Darling Seth,” she retorted, “it’s to get out of here so I don’t spend the rest of the day ravaging your body.”

  He lowered his head and kissed her with lazy sensuality. Then, taking his time, he nibbled his way along her lower lip, seeing with considerable satisfaction how her eyes were now blurred with desire. For once, he wasn’t going to yield to that desire. He’d show her—and himself—that he could resist her. “We both have to get out of here,” he said agreeably. “I have a business to run and you have to practice. I’ll see you in a week or so.” Then he stepped back, hoping she couldn’t hear the pounding o
f blood in his veins.

  She was gaping at him, looking totally at a loss. He added kindly, “Shut your mouth, sweetheart, you look like a stranded fish. Enjoy the rest of your stay, won’t you?”

  She snapped, “I will. Without you. Dearest.”

  Then she whirled and stalked out the door, slamming it hard behind her. Seth winced at the noise and sank down on the bed. The empty bed. Which was rumpled, and smelled sweetly of Lia.

  He should have canceled his jet. What was the use of being the boss if he couldn’t do as he pleased?

  He wasn’t the boss where Lia was concerned. His glands were. Brute testosterone. Him and Australopithecus.

  He loved the way she never gave an inch.

  Loved it? What kind of language was that?

  CHAPTER NINE

  SETH marched up the steps, ignoring the stone lions at their base. The whole house—or, more accurately, the whole mansion—was made of stone. Like his mother’s heart, he thought grimly, and let himself in with his key. He’d phoned Eleonore to let her know he was coming; he hadn’t seen either of his parents for several months.

  The entrance hall with its marble floor and enormous arched windows was intended to intimidate; the architecture as well as the rigidly formal gardens were, in his opinion, totally mismatched to their surroundings of ocean and woods. Surroundings that had allowed him the escape he’d needed as a little boy.

  He took the wide oak stairs two at a time, loosening his tie as he went. He hadn’t planned what he was going to say. He scarcely needed to.

  Tapping on the door of his mother’s private sitting room, he walked in without waiting for her to answer. Heavy velvet drapes and carved mahogany furniture fought against the light coming through the tall windows. Fought and won, Seth thought. “Hello, Mother,” he said.

  He dropped a dutiful kiss on her cheek. Every one of her iron-gray hairs was in place, her black Valentino suit was elegant without ostentation, and diamonds sparkled on her fingers. She said coolly, “Your tie’s a disgrace.”