To Claim His Mistress: Mistress at a Price / Mother and Mistress / His Mistress's Secret

She relaxed into his embrace, her eyelids drooping. Making love with him was like being cast adrift on a river, she thought drowsily. Finding herself caught irresistibly in some strong but peaceful current, but only at first. Because the rapids were waiting, and beyond them the edge of the waterfall, lifting and tossing her out into its brilliance and thunder. And, at its foot, a deep, serene pool into which she was happy to sink, knowing that sunlight waited above the misty green water.

There would be kisses, she thought, as she surrendered to the dreamy aftermath of delight, and the skilful, beguiling caress of his hands leading her once more to pleasure. When she awoke in his arms.

But when she finally stirred it was to a very different reality. Because the bed beside her was empty, with the covers thrown back, and the room was no longer in darkness, as it had been when she fell asleep.

Suddenly she was aware of movement, and sat up, pushing her hair out of her eyes.

Liam was standing on the other side of the room, almost fully dressed and fitting links into the cuffs of his shirt.

Her voice was husky with bewilderment. ‘What’s happening? Where are you going?’

He looked at her, his brows drawing together in a frown of compunction. ‘I didn’t mean to disturb you, Cat. I’m sorry.’

‘Sorry?’ She shook her head, trying to clear it, and squinted at her watch. ‘My God, it’s half past two in the morning.’ She stared at him. ‘You’re leaving? Already?’

‘I must.’ He began to knot his tie, swiftly and expertly. ‘I have an early flight from Heathrow. Try and go back to sleep.’

She sat up, the covers sliding down from her body, and heard his short intake of breath as he looked at her uncovered breasts. Heard it, and smiled inwardly. Maybe he would be checking in late today—if he made the flight at all.

She lay back against the pillows, watching him through half-closed eyes. She said softly, ‘I thought you’d be staying all night. That we’d have breakfast together. I’m—a little surprised.’

He gave her a level look. ‘You wanted us to meet secretly to make love. And that’s what we’ve done. I don’t think breakfast was included in the terms.’ He walked into the living room and came back with his jacket. ‘Unless, of course, you want to renegotiate?’ he added silkily.

‘No,’ she said lightly, concealing her sense of crushing disappointment. ‘No, it’s fine. After all, we both have busy lives.’ She paused in her turn. ‘I’m well satisfied with the arrangement,’ she added demurely, her lashes veiling her eyes and a little smile playing round her mouth. Deliberately changing herself into the cat that got the cream, and making him know it. ‘So far.’

His own smile was cool, and he did not come over to the bed to her, as she’d wanted, even expected. ‘Happy to be of service, ma’am.’

‘Except that it’s still one-sided,’ Cat went on, stretching luxuriously and allowing the sheet to slip even further. He might be leaving, she thought, but that was no reason to make it easy for him. ‘You’ve found out my name, and where I live, whereas I don’t know half as much about you.’

Liam pulled on his jacket, his mouth twisting in open amusement. ‘I’d say we’d become very intimately acquainted,’ he drawled. ‘In fact, I might even let you call me Lee.’

‘Thank you.’ Cat bit her lip. ‘But that’s not what I meant.’

‘But it’s all that’s on offer.’ He allowed her a second to digest that, then took a card from his trouser pocket. ‘I’ve ordered the car to pick you up at seven-thirty, but if you want to change that just ring this number.’

‘There’s no phone in the flat,’ she said. ‘I noticed.’

‘However, I’m sure you never leave home without your mobile,’ Liam said softly. ‘And the car’s booked in your name, so there’s no point in questioning the driver,’ he added, reading her mind with unforgivable accuracy.

And even less point in grinding her teeth, Cat told herself. Or picking up the bedside lamp and slinging it at him.

She said, ‘You’re very efficient.’

He shrugged. ‘And you’re the one who wants to keep things anonymous and exciting.’ He smiled at her, his eyes travelling down her naked body with undisguised regret. ‘And it’s not working, my sweet. I still intend to catch my plane, so don’t catch cold on my account.’

Cat gave him a mutinous glare and dragged the sheet up to her chin.

She said tautly, ‘So, when shall we see each other again? Or am I not supposed to know that either?’

‘I’ll be in touch,’ he said. He walked to the bed, bent and kissed her hard on the mouth. ‘But from a safe distance, naturally.’

As he straightened Cat saw that he had produced his wallet, and was casually dangling it right in front of her. She found herself stiffening.

He looked down at her, his eyes glinting. ‘And you have learned something about me tonight,’ he told her. He tossed the wallet in the air and caught it, before replacing it in his pocket. ‘Because you now know that I’m a dog lover,’ he added gently. ‘Don’t you?’

Grinning, he blew her a kiss and went, leaving Cat staring after him, flushed, furious, and completely at a loss.

* * *

He had told her to go back to sleep, but that was easier said than done. Even with the lamp off, and the pillow punched viciously into shape, Cat found herself wide awake, her eyes burning into the darkness.

Liam was ahead of her at every turn, she thought bitterly. He’d known perfectly well she would seize the chance to look in his wallet, and had prepared the ground accordingly.

Because he was totally determined to keep her at arm’s length, mentally and emotionally.

Well, she told herself, I asked for that. In fact, I demanded it, so I have only myself to blame. But that, somehow, makes it no easier to handle.

Because she now had to face the fact that her cunning plan was fundamentally flawed, and that she was the only one in the dark.

What made the situation even harder to bear was the realisation that she didn’t just want to discover his name and address and what he did for a living. That was only the start.

I need to know everything about him, she thought, from the day he was born to the immediate present. I want to know where he is now, where he’s planning to go, and what he’s thinking. Above all, what he’s thinking…

And if any painful secrets were uncovered along the way she would simply have to endure them, she thought with a sigh. But for now she had to cope with bewilderment and a deep and abiding loneliness.

She turned over, burying her face determinedly in the pillow. Sometimes she managed to doze a little, but inevitably woke again too soon, reaching across the width of the bed to find him, with tears scalding in her throat.

It had simply never occurred to her that they would not spend the entire night together. She’d believed that dawn would find them still in each other’s arms. Imagined herself in the bath while he shaved, talking together. Even making plans, as lovers do. Until he had tacitly reminded her that this was no conventional love affair.

She’d even brought a frying pan and a coffee pot with her, and had planned to make scrambled eggs with smoked salmon for their breakfast. A mistake, she thought, with a pang, that she would not make again.

At last she gave up her attempts to sleep as a bad job, and decided to make her own preparations for leaving.

She finished mopping the bathroom floor with the discarded towels, then put them in the linen basket. She knelt beside the bath and began to wring out the saturated black silk. It was completely spoiled, but she would wrap it in one of the supermarket carriers and dispose of it at home, together with the unwanted food.

She would leave no trace of herself. No memory of last night. No anticipation of the future. From now on she would stick to the rules of their bargain and live only for the present.

Yet, in spite of her good intentions, her thoughts returned to him constantly—relentlessly.

He’d said he was catching a plane, but not whether his trip was business or pleasure. And for a moment she had an image of the leggy brunette he’d dined with at Mignonette. Would she be in the adjoining seat on the aircraft? Sharing his bed tonight in some foreign hotel?

She realised she was twisting the silk as if it was a throat, and paused, controlling her flurried breathing with an effort.

Flying could be dangerous, she told herself as she cleared the kitchen. Even before the threat of hijacking and terrorist attack, planes had been known to crash.

He could be killed, she thought with piercing desolation, and no one would bring me the news, or even acknowledge it had happened. Because there’s probably nobody in his life who knows that I exist. And for all I know his name might not even be Liam. And he doesn’t have to be dead.

All he need do is go—and not come back.