Книга - Claiming His Mistress

Claiming His Mistress
Emma Darcy


When hotshot financier Carver Dane attends a masked ball, he isn't expecting a fiery encounter with a woman who ignites the same compelling desire he once knew with Katie Beaumont.Katie is stunned by her response to a sexy stranger. The last time she felt such intense longing was ten years ago - in the arms of a man she was forced to give up.When the masks come off, and the past comes alive, Carver is determined to claim Katie. But as his mistress or more?









“Is this…all you want from me, Carver?”


“No, it’s not,” he answered, unable to stop his gaze from skimming the lush curve of her waist and hip and thigh. “I’ll call you…set up another time for us….”

He raised a challenging eyebrow. “Unless this is all you want from me?” Carver’s confidence in their mutual desire was instantly affirmed.

“It’s nowhere near all I want….”


Australian author EMMA DARCY has written more than seventy-five novels, including the international bestseller, The Secrets Within, published by MIRA


books. Her intense, passionate and fast-paced writing style has made Emma Darcy popular with readers around the world, and she’s sold nearly sixty million books worldwide.




Claiming His Mistress

Emma Darcy
















CONTENTS


CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN




CHAPTER ONE


HER hair caught Carver Dane’s eye first. Hair like that invariably did—a long lustrous spill of black curls. His mouth twisted self-mockingly. It was said that people were always attracted to the same physical type, but two relationship disasters really should have some deterrent effect on him.

He waited for a negative switch-off.

It didn’t happen.

His gaze kept being drawn to her.

Of course it could be a wig since this masked ball was also a fancy dress affair. It was impossible to tell from this distance across the dance floor, especially with the glittery scarlet and purple mask she wore, disguising her hairline. Purposefully he moved his partner in a sequence of steps that brought him closer.

The hair belonged to a woman dressed as Carmen, the femme fatale gypsy from Bizet’s opera. Warning enough to stay clear of her, he told himself. Her body was definitely packaged dynamite, poured into a slinky red gown with a provocative fishtail of red and purple frills. The front of the hip-hugging skirt was even more provocative with a thigh-high slit revealing a flash of shapely legs as her partner twirled her around.

Gold bangles on her arms, gold hoops dangling from her ears. A very sexy piece all around, Carver decided, keeping her in view, determined on claiming her for the next dance. The loose tendrils curling down in front of her ears proved her hair wasn’t a wig. Third time lucky, he wryly argued, though he didn’t believe it. He simply wanted to pursue the desire she stirred.



Katie Beaumont was enjoying herself. She hadn’t let her hair down, in a fun sense, for a long long time. Being dressed as Carmen amongst a crowd of people she didn’t know, and who didn’t know her, was definitely liberating. There was no need to maintain a responsible image. This was a wonderful slice of freedom from any care, especially the care of what others might think of her.

Her toreador partner was sweating rather heavily by the time the dance bracket ended. “That was great!” he puffed, making a grab to pull her close. “Come and have a drink at the bar with me.”

“Thanks so much, but I’m expected back at my table,” she excused, smiling as she twirled out of reach. “Enjoy your drink,” she tossed back at him, not wanting to leave him completely flat. He was an enthusiastic dancer, but she didn’t want his company off the floor, and tonight was about pleasing herself.

It was easy to slip away through the milling crowd. She was actually placed on one of the official tables, next to her old school friend, Amanda, who’d set out to marry spectacularly well and had accomplished it with Max Fairweather, a leading stockbroker at Sydney’s top financial levels.

Katie was glad to have met her again after so many years of being out of contact—a lucky coincidence with Amanda placing her four-year-old son at the day-care centre where she’d been working for the past six months. While she had no ambition to slide into the high-flying social scene, having Amanda’s amusing company from time to time, definitely put a bit of sparkle in her life.

She grinned at her friend’s extravagant gestures as Amanda entertained her other guests at the table with some outrageous story. No doubt about it, she was a great hostess. And looked fantastic tonight, dressed as an exotic belly dancer in vibrant blues and greens, with a gold mask attached to a gold mesh cap, from which hung strings of glittery beads, winding through her long blond hair.

“So how was the toreador?” she archly queried the moment Katie had settled on the chair beside her.

She grinned, knowing she was about to dash Amanda’s devious plans to find her a life partner. “Good on his feet but a bit too full of himself.”

“Mmm…we obviously need a better prospect,” she mused with unabashed candour. “The guy I fancy is the very sexy buccaneer. A pirate king if ever I saw one.”

“A pirate king?” Katie effected a careless shrug. “I haven’t noticed him.”

“Well, he noticed you,” came the loaded reply. Amanda always had ammunition ready to fire at Katie’s single status. “He was eyeing you off during that last dance.”

She laughed, aware that many men had been eyeing her off, so one in particular carried no real meaning. The Carmen costume was blatantly sexy. Amanda lived by the rule—if you’ve got it, flaunt it—and she’d certainly pressed the principle on Katie tonight. Not that she minded. Tonight she didn’t care how many men looked at her. It was harmless enough, letting herself revel in feeling desirable when there was no danger attached to it.

“You’re not supposed to be fancying anyone, Amanda,” she teasingly chided her friend. “I’m here in place of your husband, remember?”

“Don’t remind me. I’m seriously annoyed with Max for missing tonight’s ball. Especially when I’m on the fundraising committee for this charity. Him and his golfing weekends,” she muttered darkly, reaching for the bottle of champagne to refill their glasses.

“Didn’t you tell me the contacts are good for his stockbroking business?” Katie put in politically. “This lifestyle does come at a price.”

“Don’t I know it!” Amanda sighed. “Still, I’d rather be drinking the best bubbly than worrying my head about setting up a business. Are you sure you want to take on this taxiing kids around, Katie?”

“Yes. I’ve thought it all out and I’ve already set up an appointment with the investment company Max recommended.”

“I’m sure I could matchmake a suitable husband for you.”

Katie shook her head. “I’d really rather support myself.”

Amanda heaved another exasperated sigh. “It’s not natural.” She waved an arm around the ballroom. “This is what’s natural for someone with your looks.”

“What? A masked ball in fancy dress? This is sheer fantasy land,” Katie mocked laughingly. “But I do thank you for talking me into using Max’s ticket. And finding me this costume.”

“So you are having a good time!” Amanda pounced triumphantly.

Katie grinned. “Yes, I am.”

Her friend handed her a glass of champagne and clicked it with her own. “To a night of fun and frivolity! May there be many more of them!”

Katie smiled and sipped, but didn’t echo the toast. The occasional bit of fun and frivolity did provide a high spot, but a steady diet of it could soon make it lose its magic.

She suspected Amanda kept her life hectic because her husband, who was a truly nice man, tended to be somewhat staid, and exciting distractions kept a happy balance. She also suspected Max had arranged the golfing weekend because appearing in fancy dress was definitely not his style.

Still, the marriage seemed to work quite well, and Katie wondered if the years of working as a nanny in London had made her cynical about the permanence of any relationship. Observing the intrigues and infidelities that went on behind the superficial glitz of supposedly solid marriages had been an unpleasant eye-opener, and guarding the children from them had not been easy.

She loved the innocence of little children. She took more pleasure in their company than the company of most adults. The idea of providing a taxi service for children whose parents didn’t have the time to ferry them around to activities had appealed very strongly to her. She was sure it was workable, given enough finance to back the venture.

In any event, she didn’t want to be fixed up with Amanda’s divorced acquaintances, and divorcees seemed to be the only unattached males for a woman looking down the barrel of being thirty years old. Not that Katie was madly interested in getting attached anyway. She was used to being independent. There’d only ever been the one great passion in her life, and unless someone, somewhere, could spark those same feelings in her, she’d rather stay single.

Making her own way seemed infinitely preferable to sharing her life with a man she didn’t love, even if going into business for herself held more pitfalls than she could foresee at the moment. Just glancing around at the men sharing this table…not one of them was attractive enough to give her even a niggle of doubt about the decision she’d made to invest in a future which she could control.

They were pleasant enough people to spend a few hours with; intelligent, witty, accomplished people who could afford the astronomical price of the tickets to this ball. Maybe it was the effect of the masks and fancy dress, but none of them felt real to her. They were all play-acting. But then, she was, too. Silly to judge anyone when tonight was aimed at taking time out from their day-to-day lives.

Fantasy…

She sipped some more champagne and laughed at the wickedly clever jokes being told. The band started up again and Amanda nudged her in the ribs.

“The pirate king is coming at a stride,” she warned gleefully. “To your right. Three o’clock.”

Katie turned her head obediently, curious to see the man who had stirred Amanda’s interest.

“Now don’t tell me he isn’t seriously scrumptious,” her friend challenged.

It was the wrong word, Katie thought. Completely wrong.

He was striding across the dance floor, a black cape lined with purple satin swirling from his shoulders. The purple was repeated in a dashing bandanna circling his head above his black mask. A white flowing shirt was slashed open almost to his waist, revealing a darkly tanned and highly virile chest. A wide black leather belt was fastened by a silver skull-and-crossbones emblem. His black trousers seemed to strain over powerfully muscled thighs, and knee-high boots accentuated his tall, aggressive maleness.

He looked…seriously dangerous…not scrumptious.

Katie’s heart started thumping. He was coming straight at her with the lethal grace of a panther on the prowl…and he was not about to be diverted or fended off. She could feel his focus on her, feel the driven purpose behind it. A convulsive little shiver ran down her spine. Before she even realised what she was doing, she was pushing her chair back, drawn to stand up and be facing him properly before he reached her.

He emanated a magnetism that was tugging inexorably on her and she didn’t know whether to fight it or succumb to it. All her instincts were on red alert, yet it was more a state of excitement than of fear, like meeting a challenge head-on, compelled to engage whatever the outcome.

She hadn’t experienced anything like this since…since her ill-fated love for Carver Dane had swept her into the sexual intimacy that had been so terribly broken.

Shocked at being reminded of a time she had determinedly put behind her, Katie stiffened with resistance when the buccaneer halted a bare step away, holding out an open palm to her in confident invitation. She stared down at it, and the sharp memory of Carver eased back into the darker side of her mind. This man’s palm was not rough or calloused from manual labour.

“Will you dance with me?”

The softly spoken question had a mocking lilt to it, drawing her gaze up to the eyes behind the mask. They were too shadowed to see his expression. His firmly etched lips were slightly curved, but she caught the sense that the half smile carried more sardonic amusement at himself than any attempt to persuade a positive response from her.

Resentment stirred at the thought he didn’t really want to be attracted to the Carmen persona she was projecting tonight. Yet what was good for the gander was just as good for the goose, Katie argued to herself. His buccaneer costume was also blatantly sexy. In fact, his physical impact was so strong, he was probably well aware of its effect on women, and he was undoubtedly banking on her being an easy target for him.

A perverse streak in Katie urged her to pose a challenge to his overwhelming self-assurance. Instead of placing her hand in his in acquiescence, she propped it on her hip in languid consideration.

“Taking a risk, aren’t you?” she drawled. “Men tend to fall desperately in love with Carmen once they give themselves up to her clutches.”

Amanda burst into giggles and the rest of the party around the table fell silent to take in this interesting encounter.

He tilted his head to one side, and the hand he’d offered gestured non-caringly. “My life is littered with risks I’ve taken. One more is neither here nor there.”

“You come out…unscathed…every time?” Katie queried disbelievingly.

“No. But I hide my scars well.”

She quite liked that answer. It made him more human, less invincible. She smiled. “A fearless fighter.”

“More a survivor,” he returned blandly.

“Against all odds.”

“Would you have me back off, Carmen?”

“That would spoil the game.”

She sashayed around him, swishing the frills on her skirt, the exhilaration of being deliberately provocative zinging through her as she turned and extended her hand to him in invitation. “Will you dance with me?”

He’d already swung, following her movements as though she was now the pivotal magnet. He took her hand in a firm grasp, and with slow deliberation, lifted it to his mouth.

“The pleasure…believe me…will be mine.”

He turned her hand over and pressed a hot, sensual kiss onto her palm, completely blitzing any reply Katie might have made to that subtly threatening claim. She stood stunned by the electric tingles running up her arm. Before she could recover any composure at all, he moved, sliding an arm around her waist and sweeping her onto the dance floor with a dominant power that enforced pliancy. He placed her hand on his shoulder and pressed the rest of her into full body contact with him.

“Now we dance,” he murmured, his voice simmering with a sexuality that vibrated with anticipation. “We shall see if Carmen can follow where a pirate leads.”




CHAPTER TWO


KATIE was swamped by his aggressive maleness. Hard muscular thighs were pushing hers into matching his every step and her feet were instinctively moving to his will. His body heat was seeping into her, arousing a highly sensitive awareness of her own sexuality, and the physical friction of dancing in such intimate proximity stirred feelings she hadn’t had in years.

Occasionally a very handsome man with a well-built physique had inspired a fleeting moment of lustful speculation, but that had only ever been a mental try-on… What would he be like as a lover? She hadn’t experienced any noticeable physical reaction. Her stomach certainly hadn’t gone all tremulous. Her breasts hadn’t started prickling with excitement. Her pulse rate had not zoomed into a wild gallop.

The pirate was doing all this to her within seconds of her being in his clutches, and Katie was so mesmerised by his effect on her, she was following him willy-nilly, taking no control whatsoever over what was happening. Deciding she probably needed a good dose of oxygen in her brain, she took a deep breath. The result was her nostrils tingled with the sharp, tangy scent of whatever cologne he’d splashed onto his jaw after shaving.

It seemed that all her senses had moved up several intensity levels and were being flooded with some wanton need to pick up everything there was to know about this man. She couldn’t get a grip on herself. She didn’t even want to get a grip on herself. Her body was alive with all the feelings of being a woman who craved the primitive pleasure a man could give her…this man, who might be dressed as a fantasy but was most certainly flesh and blood reality.

“Gold rings on your ears, on your arms, but not on your hands,” he commented.

“None on yours, either,” she answered, very aware of the strong bare fingers wrapped around hers.

“I walk alone.”

“So do I.”

“No one owns Carmen?”

“I don’t believe anyone can ever own another person.”

“True. We’re only ever given the pieces they choose to give us. Like this dance…”

“You’re not counting on anything else from me?”

“Are you…from me?”

“You claimed the role of leader.”

“So I did. Which begs the question…how far will you follow?”

“As far as I still want to.”

“Then I must keep you wanting.”

He executed a masterful series of turns that made wicked use of the front slit of her skirt, their thighs intertwining with every twirl, and the hand pressing into the pit of her back ensuring she remained pinned to him. The deliberately tantalising manoeuvre left her breathless, the surge of excitement so intense she had to struggle to think.

But this wasn’t about thinking, she fiercely reasoned.

It was about feeling.

And the desire to indulge herself with what he was promising was too strong to question.

All the long empty years since Carver…nothing. There was a huge hole in her life and this might not be the answer to it but it was something!



Free and clear, Carver thought, and the sooner he turned this burning desire to ashes, the better. She was on heat for him. He could feel it. No need for any more talking. The provocative little witch wanted action. He’d give her action in spades.

It had been months since he’d been with a woman, preferring to remain celibate than enter into another affair that didn’t satisfy him. But the need for sex didn’t go away and the delectable Carmen had it roaring to the fore right now.

Her musky scent was a heady come-on, infiltrating his brain and closing out any reservations about taking what she was offering. The doors were open to the balcony that commanded the multimillion-dollar view over Sydney Harbour. Since it was a fine night, there could be no objection to going outside. She could pretend it was romantic if she wanted to.

He steered her through the dance crowd, revelling in the lush curvaceousness of the body so very pliantly moulded to his. She was ready to give all right. Ready to give and take. He whirled her out onto the balcony. The broad semicircular apron that extended from the ballroom held several groups of smokers but that didn’t bother him. It was too public a place anyway.

He danced her down the left flank of the balcony that ran to the end of the massive mansion. The music was loud enough to float after them and there was no word of protest from her, not the slightest stiffening to indicate any concern. She wanted privacy as much as he did.

The light grew dimmer. Huge pots with perfectly trimmed ornamental trees provided pools of darkness. But he didn’t want to take obvious advantage of them. Not yet. He took her right to the far balustrade, leaned her against it, and kissed her with all the pent-up need she’d stirred.

No hesitation in her response. Her mouth opened willingly, eagerly, and her hunger matched his, exploding into a passionate drive for every sensual satisfaction a man and woman could give each other. Her arms wound around his neck, pressing for the kissing to go on and on, a wild ravaging of every pleasure possible, a tempest of excitement demanding more.

No artful seduction in this. She was caught up in the same primitive urgency he felt. And that in itself was intensely exhilarating, the direct and open honesty of the craving in her kisses, the hot desire to explore and experience and tangle intimately with him. It reminded him of how it had been with…

No! He wasn’t going down that track!

This was Carmen’s lust, not Katie’s love.

And love was a long-lost cause.

He ran his hands over the body he held. The clinging stretchy fabric of her dress left little to his imagination. He savoured the soft voluptuous curves of Carmen’s buttocks, the very female flare of her hips, the almost hand-span waist. Her breasts felt full and swollen against his chest. He wanted to touch them, hold them.

Reaching up, he grasped her arms and pulled them down to her sides. Still kissing her, feeding the wanting, he slid his hands up to the off-the-shoulder sleeves and yanked them down, taking the top of her bodice with them to bare her breasts. It shocked her. Her head jerked back. He heard her sharply indrawn breath.

“No one can see,” he swiftly assured her, smiling to erase any fear. “The advantage of a cloak.”

He moved his legs to stand astride hers, holding her pinned against the balustrade for firm support while he cupped her breasts, lightly fanning her stiffly protruding nipples with his thumbs. She didn’t speak. She stared at his mask for several seconds, as though wanting to see behind it. Then slowly she looked down at what he was doing, watching, seemingly fascinated at having her breasts fondled like this, out in the open.

She was still with him, still wanting, and her naked flesh was a delight to feel, to stroke, the different textures of her skin intriguing enough to draw his own gaze down. Either his caresses or the cool night air had hardened her nipples to long purple grapes—very mouth-tempting. He gently squeezed the soft mounds upwards, meaning to taste, but was suddenly struck by the size of her dark aureoles, the whole shape of her breasts…so like Katie’s…

His rejection of the memory was so violent, his hands moved instantly to pull up her bodice and lift the off-the-shoulder sleeves back into position. It was the long black curly hair, he savagely reasoned, triggering memories he didn’t want, playing havoc with what should be no more than a slaking of need. His heart shouldn’t be thumping like this. Not for Carmen.

Yet as though she knew it, he saw her gaze fixed on his chest. She slid her hand under his opened shirt, spreading her fingers over the light nest of hair. Her touch on his skin was electric, his arousal almost painful in its intensity.

She was feeling her power over him, Carver thought, and acted again in violent rejection, lifting her off her feet, swinging her over to the shadowed area to the side of one of the ornamental trees, planting her against the stone wall of the house, snatching her hand out of his shirt, and kissing her to reassert his dominance over this encounter.

Again she wound her arms around his neck and kissed him back—following his lead. But Carver now wanted done with the game. He plundered her mouth while he took the necessary packet from his trouser pocket, freed himself and deftly applied the condom. The front split of her skirt had to be hitched higher, quickly effected. Much to his relief, his hand found only a G-string covering the apex of her thighs, easily shifted aside.

He hadn’t meant to wait another moment, but the slick warm softness of her drew him into stroking, feeling, claiming this intimate part of her and driving her arousal to the same fever pitch as his own. Where he was rock-hard, she quivered, and he knew precisely when she couldn’t bear any more excitement. She wrenched her mouth from his, gasping, moaning.

“Put your legs around me now,” he commanded, hoisting her up against the wall, one arm under her buttocks as he inserted himself into the hot silky heart of her, thrusting hard, needing to feel engulfed by the female flesh welcoming him.

Her legs linked behind his hips, pressing him in, obviously needing the sensation of being filled by him, every bit as needy as he was for sexual satisfaction. It was more than enough permission for what he was doing. The only thought he had as he continued to revel in the freedom of unbridled lust was…yes…yes…yes…

It felt so good…better with every plunge…the tense excitement building faster…faster…his whole body caught in the thrall of it…and finally, a fierce pulsing of intense pleasure exploding from him…the sweet, shuddering relief of it…

He knew she had climaxed before him. Probably with him, as well. He would have liked the sense of fully feeling the physical mingling with her. Impossible with a condom. But protection was more important than any fleeting and false sense of togetherness.

Her legs were limply sliding down his thighs. Excitement over. Aftermath setting in. He separated himself from her and helped steady her as she stood once more against the wall. The clasp around his head loosened, her hands dropping to his shoulders. He was glad they were both wearing masks. He didn’t want to see the expression on her face. For him, this encounter had run its course, and the sooner they parted, the sooner he could get it out of his head.

He’d wanted her.

She’d wanted him.

They’d satisfied each other and that was that.

The spectre of Katie Beaumont could now be put to rest again.



Katie was stunned out of her mind. It was all she could do to stand on her own two feet. The impression of Carver was so strong—the shape of his head, the texture of his hair, the broad muscular shoulders, the sprinkle of black curls across his chest, the whole feel of him—her head was swimming with it. Her entire body was swimming with the sense of having been…possessed by him.

It had to be sheer fantasy, driven by long unanswered needs, yet…

Who was this pirate king?

She could tear off his mask…but if he looked totally different to Carver, how would she feel then?

Wait, she told herself.

It was safer if she waited.

He might say something to reveal more about himself.

Her heart was still thundering in her ears. Impossible to think of anything to say herself. He was readjusting his clothes, all under cover of the cloak that had sheltered their intimacy. Her skirt had slithered back into place when he’d moved away from her. There was no urgent need to reposition the G-string panties. It made no difference to the line of her dress.

Besides, she didn’t want to touch herself there…where he had been. Not yet. She wanted to savour the lingering pleasure of all he’d made her feel. Like Carver…

He straightened up. It was difficult to tell if he was the same height as the man she’d once loved, given the boots he wore and her own high-heeled sandals. Was the cloak making his shoulders look broader than she remembered? They felt right. She stared at his mouth. The light was dim here, but surely the shape of those firmly delineated lips were…

He compressed them, frustrating her study. He plucked her hands from his shoulders and carried them down, deliberately placing them on her hips as he stepped back.

“The dance is over, Carmen.”

The cold, harsh statement was more chilling than the night air, bringing instant goose bumps to her skin.

Somehow she found her voice. “So what happens now?” It came out in a husky slur.

“I told you I walk alone.”

Another chilling statement, striking ice into her heart.

He lifted a hand and ran light fingertips down her cheek. “This is one man who can take what you give…and leave. But I do thank you…for the pleasure.”

He took another step away from her, his hand gone from her face but still raised in a kind of farewell salute. He paused a moment, as though taking in the image of her—Carmen left against the wall, abandoned by him after he’d taken his pleasure of her…and after he’d given what she’d virtually asked of him.

She didn’t move.

This was the end of it.

He was going.

“The pleasure was mine, too,” she said, driven to match him even now. “Thank you for the dance.”

He inclined his head in what she thought was a nod of respect, then turned and strode away, taking with him the spectre of Carver, the cloak swirling around his swiftly receding figure.

Fantasy…

She stood against the wall for a long time, needing the support as she fought the tremors that shook her. It was better this way, she kept telling herself, better to have the memory and not the disappointment that reality would surely bring.

It might be like an empty memory right now…but it was something.

He’d made her feel like a woman again.




CHAPTER THREE


AS SHE rode the train from North Sydney to Town Hall for her all-important appointment in the city, Katie did her best to keep her nerves under control by thinking positively.

The facts and figures she had marshalled—costs and estimated profits—for her business proposition were neatly organised in the slim-line black leather attaché case she carried. References from previous employers attested to her good character and sense of responsibility. Trustworthy and reliable were tags that were repeatedly emphasised.

She was wearing her one good all-purpose black suit, having teamed a cherry red sweater with it since red was supposedly a power colour. Her hair was clean and shiny and as tidy as her curls ever allowed. Her make-up was minimal. She wore new stockings and sensibly heeled black court shoes.

There was nothing to object to about her appearance or preparation, so hopefully she would clinch a deal that would give her a more interesting and satisfying future than her current situation. Max Fairweather had told her this particular company matched investors to budding businesses. With luck, her bud of an idea could flower into a fleet of specialised taxis for transporting children.

Because of her fear of being rushed or late, it was barely nine o’clock when she stepped off the train. Since her appointment wasn’t until nine-thirty, she walked slowly along George Street, then up Market Street to the address Max had given her. It turned out to be a skyscraper with a very impressive facade of black granite and glass.

Big money here, Katie thought, even more determined to fight for the investment she needed. She took a deep breath and entered the huge lobby. The directory on the wall gave her destination as the eighteenth floor, with either elevator one or two providing an express ascent.

There were still ten minutes to go before her appointment. Reasoning that being overly punctual was not a black mark against her, and the company would surely have a reception area with chairs where she could sit and wait, she pressed the button to summon elevator two.

A few seconds later the doors opened…and shock rooted Katie’s feet to the floor.

Standing inside the compartment, directly facing her, was a man whose identity was unmistakable. She hadn’t seen him for almost ten years but she knew him instantly and her heart quivered from the impact he made on it.

Carver Dane.

Carver…who, in her heart of hearts, had been behind the pirate’s mask…a fantasy, stimulated by a host of frustrations and the wild and wanton desire to feel what she had once felt with him. The mask had let her pretend. The mask had made a dream briefly come true. But that was all it had been. A dream!

The man facing her was the real person!

Shock hit him, too. No doubt she was the last woman in the world he expected to see or wanted to meet. His facial muscles visibly tightened. There was a flare of some violent emotion in his eyes before they narrowed on her in a sharply guarded scrutiny that shot her nerves into a hopelessly agitated state.

Only a few nights ago she’d been fantasising about the intimacy they’d once shared. The raw sexuality she’d indulged in—with a masked stranger who’d strongly reminded her of Carver—suddenly flooded her with embarrassment. Here was her first and only love—in the flesh—and she simply wasn’t prepared to face him, especially when that memory was so fresh.

“Are you coming in, Katie, or would you prefer not to ride this elevator with me?” he asked.

“I…I was wondering if you were stepping out.”

“No.” His mouth curled into a sardonic little smile. “I’m on my way up.”

She flushed, painful old memories rushing over her embarrassment, making it more acute. The expensive suit Carver was wearing was evidence enough that his status had risen beyond anything her father had predicted, but what he was doing here Katie had no idea. While she wrestled with her inner confusion the elevator doors started to slide shut.

Carver reached out and pressed a button to reopen them. “Well?” he challenged, a savage glitter in his dark brown eyes.

A surge of pride got her feet moving. “I’m going up, too,” she declared, stepping into the compartment beside him. She was not her father’s little girl anymore. She was an independent woman, all primed to establish her own business, and she was not about to be intimidated by anything Carver could bring up against her.

He released the button holding the doors. As they closed her into sharing this horribly small space with Carver, Katie fiercely hoped the elevator lived up to its promise of being an express one. She couldn’t bear being with him for long, knowing they couldn’t ever be truly together, not how they’d once been.

“What floor do you want?” he asked.

“Eighteen.” It was easier to let him operate the control panel than lean across him and do it herself. “Thank you.”

“You’re looking good, Katie,” he remarked as the compartment started rising.

She flashed him an acknowledging glance. “So are you.”

“You’re back home with your father?”

“No. I’m on my own. How’s your mother?” she retaliated, burning with the memories of how each parent had played a critical part in breaking up the relationship they saw as destructive to the best future for Carver and Katie.

“She has to take it easy now. Not as well as she used to be.”

And probably plays that to the hilt, too, Katie thought bitterly. Lillian Dane would never give up her apron strings. She wondered how Carver’s wife coped with her mother-in-law, and was instantly prompted to add, “And your wife?”

The supposedly polite interest question was not immediately answered. The tension in the silence that followed it was suddenly crawling with all the conflicts left unresolved between them, and the string of circumstances that had kept the two of them apart, preventing any possible resolution.

Katie gritted her teeth as the memories flooded back—the pressures that had forced the break-up, the timing that had been wrong for them, even years later when Carver had come to England looking for her, just when she’d been between jobs and back-packing through Greece and Turkey…the letter he’d left, asking if there was any chance they could get together again, a letter she didn’t know about for six months…her phone-call, wild hope fluttering through her heart until the call was answered by his wife…then the confirmation from Carver himself that he was, indeed, married.

That was the cruellest cut of all!

Five years apart…then six months too late!

Though to be absolutely fair, maybe she’d read too much into his coming to London, too much into the letter, as well. It had only been an inquiry, not a promise. He might simply have wanted to put the memory of her to rest, and her apparent lack of response could well have effected that very outcome. She could hardly blame him for getting on with his life.

He wasn’t hers.

He’d never be hers again.

“My wife died two years ago.”

The flat statement from Carver rang in her ears, then slowly, excruciatingly, bounced around her mind, hitting a mass of raw places she didn’t want to look at. The sense of waste was totally devastating.

She wasn’t aware of the elevator coming to a halt.

She was blind to the doors opening.

It took Carver’s voice to jolt her out of it. “This is the eighteenth floor.”

“Oh! Sorry!” she babbled, and plunged out of the compartment, without even the presence of mind to say goodbye to him.

She found herself in a corridor with a blank wall at one end, glass doors at the other. Her legs automatically carried her towards the doors which had to lead somewhere. It wasn’t until Carver fell into step beside her that she realised he had followed her out of the elevator. She stopped, her head jerking towards him in startled inquiry.

“This is my floor, too,” he informed her, his eyes flashing derisively at her non-comprehension. “Are you seeing someone here?” he went on, moving ahead to open the way for her.

“Robert Freeman.” The name tripped out, though it was none of Carver’s business. “Are you seeing someone?”

He shook his head, holding one of the glass doors open and waving her through to what was obviously a reception area. “I work here, Katie,” he said quietly as she pushed herself into passing him.

Again her feet faltered, right in the doorway next to where he stood, shock and bewilderment causing her to pause and query this extraordinary statement. What did a doctor have to do with an investment company?

“You work…?” was as far as she got.

He bent his head closer to hers, murmuring, “I’m one of the partners… Andrews, Dane and Freeman.”

Not only was she stunned by this information, but she caught a light whiff of a scent that put all her senses on hyper-alert. Recognition of the distinctive male cologne was instant and so mind-blowing, she almost reeled away from it, barely recovering enough to hold her balance and move on into the reception area.

“How…how nice for you,” she somehow managed to mutter, though she was totally unable to meet his eyes.

He couldn’t have been the pirate, she frantically reasoned, but her gaze was drawn in terrible fascination to the mouth that now thinned at her lame response, and her heart was catapulting around her chest at the possibility that fantasy had crossed into reality.

It was the physical similarities that had got to her at the masked ball. Plus her own sexual response to them. But that didn’t make his identity certain. Far from it. Neither did the cologne. It was probably a popular brand bought and used by many men. She was not normally close enough to most men to notice a scent. It was silly to get so rattled by a coincidence that could be easily explained.

“Life does move on,” Carver remarked sardonically, responding to her inane “nice” comment.

“Yes, it does,” she quickly agreed, hating herself for being so hopelessly gauche.

He hadn’t become a doctor but he’d certainly moved up in the world, a long way up if this office building was anything to judge by. She didn’t understand why he hadn’t pursued a medical career, but he certainly had to have become a very successful businessman to be a partner here. His pride had surely been salved by such success. As for her pride…

Given the chance, would she have Carver back now that he was free again?

Could one ever go back?

He shut the glass door.

She screwed up her courage to look directly at him, to judge if there was anything left for them.

It was a futile effort.

“Laura will look after you,” he coolly instructed, gesturing towards the reception desk.

Having dismissed her into another’s hands, he turned aside and headed off down a corridor which ran off the reception area, striding fast as though he couldn’t wait to get away from her…like the pirate king after declaring the dance was over.

Katie stared after him, any thought of taking some positive initiative utterly wiped out by the comparison pounding through her mind.

Had it been Carver in the buccaneer costume? A widower, who walked alone, feeling the same compulsive physical attraction she had felt because the chemistry was still there for them? Always would be?

A convulsive shiver ran down her spine.

Even if it had been Carver, he’d made it plain he wanted nothing more to do with her…at least, not with the Carmen she’d been role-playing. He couldn’t have known who she really was.

But the man who’d accompanied her to this office floor did know the woman he’d just left, making it equally plain he was finished with her.

She watched him enter an office and disappear from view, heard the closing of the door behind him, and knew there was not going to be any comeback. He didn’t want any further involvement with her.

The dance was over.

It had been over for Katie Beaumont and Carver Dane years ago.




CHAPTER FOUR


ONCE inside the privacy of his office, Carver took several deep breaths, trying to clear the insidiously sexy aroma from his nostrils and haul his mind back from the chaos it had evoked.

It was definitely the same musky scent Carmen had worn… Carmen, so like Katie—her hair, her breasts, the whole feel of her, the intensity of her need for him.

Had it actually been Katie under that mask?

He shook his head, recoiling from the possibility and all it might mean, yet he couldn’t banish it. She was back in Sydney. She certainly had access to the high society crowd anytime she wanted to move into it. Her father’s connections and her old school network would open most doors. It could have been her.

The need to know drove him to the telephone on his desk. He snatched up the receiver, pressed the button to connect him to Robert Freeman and fiercely willed the other man to pick up. Instantly. Robert was the obvious conduit to immediate information about Katie Beaumont. She was here to see him. He had to know something.

“So how did the breakfast meeting go?” his partner inquired, not bothering with a greeting.

“As expected,” Carver answered briefly, too caught up in more urgent issues to go into detail. “I just rode up in the elevator with a Miss Beaumont. I understand you have an appointment with her this morning.”

“In five minutes. Some problem with it?”

“Do you know her personally?”

“Never met her. Comes with a recommendation from Max Fairweather. Wants to set up a business and needs cash.”

“Needs cash? From us?” Carver couldn’t stop his voice from rising incredulously. “Do you know who her father is?”

“Beaumont Retirement Villages. Max did mention it.”

“The guy is worth millions.”

“Uh-huh. Could be he disapproves of his daughter’s business plans.”

As well as her choice of men, Carver thought acidly.

“Very wealthy fathers can get too fond of flexing their power,” Robert went on. “We could reap some benefit here if the daughter is as smart as Daddy at capitalising on a customer need.”

“An interesting situation…” Carver mused, recalling Katie’s assertion she was on her own, not back with her father. She’d worked as a nanny in England in years gone by but what she had done with her life in more recent times was an absolute blank to him. It could be that everything she chose to do was an act of rebellion against her father…including sexual encounters where she took what she wanted…like Carmen.

Every muscle in his groin started tightening at the memory of her flagrant desire matching his. “Any chance of your passing her over to me, Robert,” he heard himself saying, not even pausing to consider the possible wisdom of staying clear of any involvement.

He’d once thought of Katie Beaumont as his. The temptation to re-examine the feelings that only she had ever drawn from him was too strong to let go. If she’d been behind the Carmen mask, they could still have something very powerful going between them. They weren’t so young anymore and the circumstances were very, very different.

“I’m clear for the rest of the morning,” he pressed, “and I must admit I’m curious to hear Miss Beaumont’s business plans.”

“Mmm…does she happen to be gorgeous?”

“You’re a married man, Robert,” Carver dryly reminded him, uncaring what his partner thought as long as he turned Katie over to him.

He laughed. “Just don’t be forgetting facts and figures in her undoubtedly delectable presence. Go to it, Carver. I’ll let Laura know to redirect the client to you.”

“I owe you one.”

“I’ll chalk it up.”

Done! He set the receiver down on its cradle, feeling a huge surge of satisfaction. Katie Beamont was his for the next hour or so. The only question was…how to play it to get what he wanted!



Katie was only too grateful that Robert Freeman was occupied on the telephone and not yet free to see her. She was far from being cool, calm and collected after the run-in with Carver Dane. Her focus on business was shot to pieces, and she was in desperate need of time to get her mind channelled towards her purpose in being here.

The shock of the link between Carver and the pirate king had left her shaky, too, forcefully reminding her of how terribly wanton she had been with the masked man. She had believed that secret was safe. And surely it was. It had to be. She was not normally a wild risk-taker. To have that kind of behaviour rebound on her now…here…no, she was getting in a stew over nothing. Even if Carver had been the buccaneer, he couldn’t know she had been Carmen.

It was good to sit down with the option of hopefully getting herself under control again. A few deep breaths helped. If she could just let the past go and concentrate on the future, managing this meeting shouldn’t be too difficult. Only the future counted now, she fiercely told herself, and neither Carver nor the pirate king held any part in that. She was on her own.

Definitely on her own.

She had to go into the meeting with Robert Freeman and prove an investment in her business would be worthwhile. All the necessary papers were in her attaché case. She simply had to pull them out and…

“Miss Beaumont?”

Katie’s heart leapt at the call from the receptionist, a pleasant young woman with a bright, friendly manner, obviously trained to put people at ease. She had auburn hair, cut in a short, chic style, and her navy suit, teamed with a patterned navy and white scarf knotted around her throat, looked very classy. The perfect frontline person for an investment company, Katie thought, and forced an inquiring smile.

Laura—that was the name Carver had given her—responded with an apologetic grimace. “I’m sorry. Mr. Freeman is tied up with some urgent business.”

“That’s okay. I don’t mind waiting,” Katie quickly inserted, relieved to be given more time to calm her nerves before she had to perform at her best.

“As it happens, that isn’t necessary, Miss Beaumont.” Her mouth moved into a conciliatory smile. “One of the other partners is free to take over your meeting with Mr. Freeman. In fact, you came in with him… Mr. Dane.”

“Mr.…Dane?” Katie could barely get the words out. Her tongue felt as paralysed as the rest of her at the thought of facing Carver across a desk, spilling out where she was in her life and asking him for money.

“He’s very experienced at assessing presentations,” Laura assured her. “Your time won’t be wasted with Mr. Dane, Miss Beaumont.”

“But I don’t mind waiting for Mr. Freeman. It’s no problem for me,” Katie babbled, unable to quell a rising whirl of hysteria.

“The arrangement has already been made.”

Without any discussion with her? Didn’t she have any right to decide whom she dealt with? Not that she actually knew Robert Freeman, so she couldn’t claim an acquaintance with him. And Carver was a partner, so she couldn’t very well protest on the grounds of being handed to someone of lesser authority.

Having announced this official decision, Laura came out from behind the reception desk, clearly intending to gather Katie up and deposit her in the appointed place. Katie froze in her chair, her mind in a ferment of indecision, her body churning with sheer panic as her future and past collided head-on.

A benevolent smile was directed at her, along with the words, “I’ll show you to Mr. Dane’s office.”

What was she to do?

Somehow she levered herself out of the chair and picked up the attaché case, grasping the handle with both hands and holding the square of leather in front of her like some shield against the arrows of fate.

“This way…” An encouraging arm was waved towards the corridor Carver had taken.

The past was gone, Katie frantically reasoned. If she didn’t take this chance, she faced a future of always being an employee without any prospect of really getting ahead in life. Besides, this was a business deal. There shouldn’t be anything personal in it. If Carver turned it into something personal, she could walk out, with good reason to demand a more objective hearing.

“Miss Beaumont?”

Laura was paused in front of her, a slight frown questioning the delayed reaction from Katie.

“Sorry. I’m a bit thrown by the change.”

An understanding smile. “There’s no need to be, I promise you. Mr. Dane follows exactly the same company policies as Mr. Freeman.”

Katie expelled a long breath to ease the tightness in her chest. “Okay. I’m coming.”

Laura nodded approval as Katie pushed her feet into taking the path to Carver’s office. The carpet was dove-grey. It felt like sand dragging at every step she made.

She told herself Carver wouldn’t want this meeting any more than she did. He’d been landed with it because he was available and Robert Freeman was busy. Which surely meant he would keep it strictly business, totally ignoring the intimacy of their former relationship.

Or was the intimacy the buccaneer had shared with Carmen as sharply on his mind as it was on hers?

Katie instantly clamped down on that thought. But her stomach contracted at the memory and to her horror, some wanton rush of excitement attacked her breasts, just as Laura came to a halt, gave a courtesy knock on a door, and opened it.

“Miss Beaumont for you, Mr. Dane,” she announced.

“Thank you, Laura,” came Carver’s voice.

It had the same deep timbre of the pirate king’s! Why hadn’t she noticed that before? Because she’d been in too much of a flap over running into Carver and she hadn’t smelled the cologne until he was on the point of leaving her. But now…her heart started thundering in her ears.

Laura stood back and waved Katie forward.

She had to walk into Carver’s office, face him, and pretend everything they’d ever known together was water under the bridge, including a fantasy that was fast gathering too many shades of reality.

Having constructed a somewhat rueful smile to ease her over the next few moments which were fraught with pitfalls, Katie willed her legs to move without wobbling, thanked Laura for her services, then stepped into what she couldn’t help thinking of as the torture room.

Like going to the dentist.

Only worse.

No one here was going to give her an anaesthetic to kill pain.

She heard the door shut behind her. Goose bumps rose on her skin at the realisation she was once again enclosed in a space shared only with Carver Dane. At least it was bigger than an elevator, she hurriedly told herself, and there was furniture to keep them separated.

“Hello, again.”

The greeting forced her to fasten her gaze directly on the man himself. He’d been on the periphery of her vision, standing to the side of his desk. She’d felt him watching her, probably assessing her reaction to the changed appointment, and a sudden surge of stubborn pride tilted her chin in defiance of any judgement he might have made.

“I wasn’t expecting this, Carver,” she stated bluntly.

“I do appreciate that, Katie,” he returned, his quiet tone aimed to soothe frazzled nerves. His mouth quirked into whimsical appeal. “Will it help if we pretend we’re meeting for the first time?”

Impossible! He’d taken off his suitcoat. Her mind’s eye was already measuring his shoulders, matching them to old and fresh memories, and her body felt as though it was pulsing to the imprint of every hard muscle in his very male physique.

“Why aren’t you a doctor?” she blurted out, totally incapable of putting him in a business frame.

He shrugged and moved to the front of the desk, propping himself against it in a relaxed pose that suggested he was prepared to be patient with her. “That was a long time ago, Katie. I might well ask what you’re doing here, seeking a business investment? Why didn’t you pursue the course you were taking to become a kindergarten teacher?”

Because I couldn’t bear being in the same city as you after the break-up. Not even in the same country! The words screamed through her mind but couldn’t be spoken. As he said, it was a long time ago.

“It’s just that I always thought of you as working towards that goal,” she said to explain her intemperate outburst. “To find you here…”



Carver stared at her, a hard bitterness coiling through him. How much had she thought of him? Certainly not enough to bring her back to Australia to find out if anything had changed for them. All those years he’d worked around the clock, needing to prove to himself—and her father—he could amount to something…had she given him anything more than a fleeting thought?

Even when he’d gone to England, she’d been off trekking through Greece and Turkey, spending her money on more travel away from him, and staying away so long he’d given up on any response to his letter—given up and trapped himself into a marriage that was bound to be sour before it had even begun, all because he’d been thinking of Katie.

Well, she could think what she liked. He wasn’t about to tell her what he’d been through. And certainly not why! The sexual attraction was still strong, but he was never going to let Katie Beaumont into his heart again. He’d been there, done that, and any private intercourse between them now would be based on sex, which he very definitely wanted and would find very sweet…with her.

He enjoyed her obvious confusion of mind before cutting it off. “So…you want my credentials before dealing with me,” he drawled, and enjoyed it even more when a flush rose up her neck and spread into her cheeks, making them almost as red as her sweater…as red as the provocative dress Carmen had worn.

“I’m sure they’re everything they should be,” she rushed out, discomforted by the doubt she’d inadvertantly projected and retracting it as fast as she could. “You wouldn’t be in this position unless they were.”

“But it’s difficult for you to accept,” he taunted, cynically wondering if she’d come to accept her father’s view of him—a guy who was screwing a rich man’s daughter to make an easy track for himself to a better life.

“No. I…”

Words failed her. Her eyes flickered with confusion. Hazel eyes—grey and green with dots of gold, he remembered. Big, beautiful eyes to drown in…when he was much younger. Her face was still probably the most essentially feminine face he’d ever seen, its frame of black curls accentuating her pale creamy skin, the finely winged eyebrows, a delicately formed nose, and the very kissable, lushly curved lips.

Was she remembering how they’d once kissed?

Were the memories as recent as a few nights ago?

Right now she was boxed into a corner and struggling to get out, realising that referring to the past was a faux pas in these circumstances. She was the one in need of money, not him. Quite a delicious irony, given the background of their former relationship.

Carver noted that her mouth remained slightly parted, the full sensuality of her lips accentuated, and the kisses he’d taken from Carmen were vividly evoked, inciting the desire to taste them again.

She scooped in a quick breath and gestured an agitated appeal for his forebearance. “I’m sorry. Of course, I accept your credentials. I hope you’re prepared to accept mine.”

They would undoubtedly make fascinating listening, but Carver was not about to reveal any personal interest in them. “I’m here to be convinced that your proposition is well founded and potentially profitable,” he assured her, smiling his satisfaction in the concession to his obvious standing in the company. “If you’d like to start…”

He waved an invitation to the chair he’d placed handy to his desk for her to pass over papers. Without waiting for her to move, he straightened up and strolled around the large desktop to his own chair, a clear signal that he expected business to begin.

Control was his and he intended to keep it, right down the line.

Even when he kissed her.

Which he fully intended to do before she left this office…if Katie Beaumont reacted to the trigger of Carmen!




CHAPTER FIVE


KATIE burned with embarrassment as she took the client chair Carver had indicated. Client was the operative word and she fiercely vowed not to forget it again. Her logic had been spot-on before she’d stepped into this office. For Carver, this was strictly business, and if he had been the buccaneer at the masked ball, she could forget that, too. It had no bearing—none whatsoever—on this meeting.

In fact, she wished she knew what Robert Freeman looked like so she could mentally transpose his face onto Carver’s. A mask would be very helpful right now. It would save getting distracted again by things that weren’t pertinent to this time and place.

As it was, looking straight at the man behind the desk, she couldn’t help seeing that ten years had given Carver’s handsome face a more striking look of strength and authority. Success certainly sat well on him. But his dark chocolate eyes no longer had a melting quality. No caring in them, she thought. At least, not for her. Which made the past a hollow thing she should discard. Immediately.

“Best to start with a summary of what you’re aiming for and why you think it would prove a good investment,” Carver directed, making Katie acutely aware that she’d lost all sense of initiative.

“I need to know where you’re coming from so I can assess the probable outcome of where you want to head,” he went on, spelling out what she already knew she had to do.

She’d practised it many times. There would be no difficulty at all in rolling it out if Carver was a stranger, so she had to pretend he was one, just as he’d initially suggested…meeting for the first time.

Setting that parameter in her mind as firmly as she could, Katie managed to pull out her rehearsed presentation, beginning with her background in child-care, her current employment at a day-care centre, and her observations regarding the need for a safe, reliable transport service to deliver and pick up children, thereby relieving the stress of working parents who were stretched for time to manage this themselves.

Carver nodded thoughtfully. “You’re talking about creches, preschool child-minding centres…”

Katie leaned forward in her eagerness to press her case. “It’s where to start distributing leaflets about the service but I envisage much more than catering to the very young age group. I’m thinking school-children who have medical or dental appointments, swimming lessons, dance classes, after-school tutoring, birthday parties. Also picking up teenagers from movies or parties. Parents worry about them using public transport after dark.”





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