The Billionaire's Virgin Mistress

As obediently as a well-trained hound, she followed him out of the dining room to his car; and felt her heart contract when it took him two attempts to get the key in the ignition. “Are you all right to drive?” she asked.

“Don’t worry—I won’t put you in the ditch.”

It’s you I’m worried about, not me. As she fastened her seat belt, the soft leather seat enveloping her, Tess knew her words for the truth. How long since she’d allowed anyone else to matter to her?

Forever and a day.

Or, more accurately, not since that hot summer’s night when she was five, and she and her parents had fled Madrid on the midnight train. Just the three of them: they’d left behind Tess’s beloved nanny, Ysabel, without Tess even having the chance to say goodbye to her.

That long-ago heartbreak, so laced with betrayal, had cured Tess, once and for all, of letting anyone close to her.

The last person she should allow to bend that rule was Cade Lorimer. Yet for some reason Tess found herself gazing at his hands, wrapped around the leather-coated steering wheel. Strong hands with a dusting of dark hair, and long, lean fingers that made her ache somewhere deep inside.

She dragged her eyes away, staring out the window. The brief ferry trip was soon over, the forty-mile drive passing in a blur of black spruce, dark rocks and the glitter of the moon on the sea. Although Cade showed no inclination to talk and she had nothing to say, the silence was far from restful. It was a relief when he pulled into the parking lot of an imposing brick building, and she could get out of the car and stretch her legs. “Hospital’s state of the art,” he said without a trace of emotion, striding toward the entrance. “Del endowed it after my mother died two years ago.”

“Oh…I’m sorry she’s dead.”

“Del’s lost without her,” Cade said tersely, pushing open the door.

And you, she wondered, did you love your mother just as you so obviously love Del?

Then, to her dismay, Cade took her by the hand. His palm was warm, his fingers clasping hers with automatic strength. With shocking speed, heat raced through her body, fiery and inescapable. Her steps faltered, every nerve on high alert. The ache in her belly intensified, and she could no more deny it than she could shut out the long corridor with its antiseptic smell and polished tile floor. Desire, she thought helplessly. I’ve never felt it in my life, yet recognize it as though I’ve always known it. How can that be?

It was more than she could do to pull her hand away. Because Cade needed her, or because she was a total fool?

Desire wasn’t on the list, any more than sex.

They’d arrived at the elevator. As they rose to the second floor, Tess stared at the controls, her body a tumult of longing that both terrified and bewildered her. She forced her features to immobility. She couldn’t bear for Cade to guess her feelings, for then she would truly be naked in front of him.

As they left the elevator, the nurse on duty smiled at Cade. “Room 204,” she said. “He’s resting well.”

“Thanks,” Cade said briefly. Outside the room, he hesitated, inwardly steeling himself for whatever he might find.

Tess tried to tug her hand free. But his fingers tightened, and—short of causing a scene—she had no choice but to follow him into the room. Standing at his side, tension singing along her nerves, Tess looked down at the man in the bed.

Del Lorimer was asleep, his mane of silver hair spread on the pillow, his strongly corded arms bare to the elbow. Automatically she recorded a beak of a nose, an obstinate chin and the facial wrinkles of a man who’s lived his life at full tilt.

She felt not the slightest flicker of recognition. Not even remotely did he remind her of Cory.

Swiftly Tess switched her gaze to Cade; and with dismay saw a man closed against any emotion. His features were tight, his jaw clenched, while his eyes were like dark pits, unreadable and unreachable.

In unconscious antipathy she moved away from him so that their shoulders were no longer touching. She’d been wrong: Cade didn’t love his adoptive father. By the look of him, love wasn’t a word he’d even recognize.

In a way, she was glad to see his true colors so clearly; it made it easier to dismiss him as a ruthless interloper who was interfering in her life with results she could neither anticipate nor desire.

Desire. That word again.

Desire someone incapable of loving the father who—on Cade’s own admission—had given him security and love as a boy? She’d have to be crazy to do that.

To her relief, a white-jacketed doctor came to the door. Cade joined him there, holding a low-voiced conversation, then came back into the room. “We might as well go,” he said impersonally. “Del will sleep the night through, there’s no point in staying.”

For a split second Tess looked down at the man lying so still in the bed, a man who, other than common human concern, meant nothing to her. Then she preceded Cade out of the room, walking fast down the hushed, immaculate corridor.

Sixteen minutes after they left the hospital, Cade slowed at two impressive stone pillars and turned down a driveway that wound between stiff Scotch pines and a forest of rhododendrons. Del’s stone mansion boasted grandiose white pillars, a formal array of windows and huge chimneys, and equally formal gardens, raked, clipped and weeded to a neatness nature never intended.

Tess disliked it on sight.

For the first time, she broke the silence since they’d left the hospital. “You’ll take me home tomorrow,” she said.

Cade rubbed his neck, trying to get the tension out. “You can sleep in the west wing,” he said. “You’ll hear the sea through the windows.”

“Tomorrow,” she repeated inflexibly.

He shifted in his seat so that he was gazing into her vivid green eyes. Against his will, an image of Del flashed across his mind: a shrunken old man lying too still in a hospital bed, the bars raised on either side. “Give it a rest, Tess,” he said sharply. “Haven’t we argued enough for one day?”

“Then perhaps you should try listening to me.”

Whatever her background, she’d learned to fight for herself, he thought, watching the night shadows slant across her face. Her skin gleamed pale, infinitely desirable, the pulse throbbing gently at the base of her throat. Flooding him as irresistibly as a storm surge, he longed to rest his face there, close his eyes and let the warmth of her skin seep through his pores.

Not since he’d started dating had he ever been pulled so strongly to a woman. It wasn’t the way he operated. Easy come, easy go, everything pleasant and on the surface, that was him. He sure as hell wasn’t going to break that pattern with Tess Ritchie. Might as well step into a minefield.

Anyway, judging by the look on her face, she’d rather clobber him than hold him close.

“Let’s go in,” he said, and climbed out of the car.

When he unlocked the massive oak door, four large dogs came scrabbling across the marble floor, barking in excitement, white teeth gleaming. With a gasp of pure horror, Tess grabbed Cade, thrusting him between her and the dogs. The alley, the dog snarling…crack of a gunshot.

“Down!” Cade said, and all four subsided, jaws agape, tongues lolling. Swiftly he turned. “You’re afraid of dogs, Tess?”

Wrong word, he thought. For terror, once again, was etched into every line of her body, her eyes saturated with emotions he couldn’t begin to name, let alone understand.

“I—yes, I’m afraid of them,” she faltered. Flushing, she dropped her hold on his suit jacket.

“They thought I was Del.”

“I don’t care what they thought—just keep them away from me.”

“You get bitten as a kid?” he said casually, signaling for the dogs to stay as he led her up the magnificent curve of the stairwell.

“Yes. Yes, I was.”

Accusing her of lying would start another argument, Cade decided. But she was definitely lying. Again. He opened the fourth door along the hallway. “The Rose Room,” he said ironically. “My mother was, in many ways, very conservative.”

An ornate brass bed, too much ruffled chintz, an acre of rose-pink carpet, and a bouquet of real roses on the mantel. “My whole house would fit in here,” Tess said.

Cade opened a drawer in the Chippendale dresser and pulled out a nightgown. “Towels and toothbrush in the bathroom,” he said brusquely. “Come down for breakfast in the morning any time you’re ready.”

The gown was a slither of green silk that had probably cost more than her entire wardrobe. As Tess gingerly took it from him, a spark of electricity leaped between them. She jumped back, giving a nervous laugh, tossing the gown on the bed. As though he couldn’t help himself, Cade took her by the shoulders. “All too appropriate,” he said tightly.

His fingers scorched through her dress; his eyes skewered her to the wall. She tried to twist free. “Don’t!”

“You’re so goddamn beautiful—I can’t keep my hands off you.”

Deep within, feelings she’d never experienced before uncoiled in her belly, slowly, lazily, unarguably. Her knees felt weak. Her heart was juddering in her breast. With all her strength, she pushed against the hard planes of Cade’s chest. “If you brought me here to seduce me, you’ve got the wrong woman. Let go, Cade! Please…”

She wasn’t a woman who would beg easily. She wasn’t playing hard to get, either—he was almost sure of that. Plain and simple, she hated being touched. By him? Or by anyone?

His usual women were willing. All too willing, tediously and predictably so; which was probably why it had been a considerable while since he’d shared his bed.

Cade released her, rubbing his palms down his trousers, and stated the obvious. “You feel the attraction, too. But for some reason you’re fighting it.”

“I don’t feel anything! Or is your ego so inflated you can’t stand rejection?”

The wildcat was back, eyes glittering. “You do feel it, Tess. I can read the signals.” He gave her a mock salute. “We’ll pick this up in the morning. Good night.”

The door closed softly behind him. Tess locked it with a decisive snap, then sank down on the bed. She’d never in her life met anyone like Cade Lorimer.

A few moments ago, desire had almost overwhelmed her. Desire was a phenomenon she’d read about, always with faint derision; it wasn’t something she’d ever expected to attack her like an enemy from within.

When Tess woke the next morning, the sound of the sea was drowned by the hard pelt of rain driven against the windowpanes.

Trying to shake off a strange sense of oppression, she sat up, and saw with a jolt of unease that an envelope had been pushed under her door.

Opening it as warily as if it contained a deadly virus, Tess unfolded the sheet of heavy vellum. I’ll stay at the hospital all day, it said. The housekeeper will find something for you to wear and the dogs will be kept in the kennels. Cade.

His handwriting was angular, decisive and very masculine. Cautiously Tess unlocked the door, peeked down the empty hallway and grabbed the small heap of clothes on the floor. Tights, a scoop-necked T-shirt and a pair of sandals that looked brand-new: the housekeeper had come through.

Quickly she dressed and went downstairs for breakfast. She spent the rest of the day curled up in the library, reading and listening to the rain, birch logs snapping in the fireplace. But to her intense annoyance, from midafternoon onward, she found herself straining for the sound of Cade’s car.

She wanted him to drive her home. That was the only reason she was interested in his return.

She got up, pacing back and forth, wishing the rain would let up so she could go outdoors. Then, from the corner of her eye, she noticed a collection of framed diplomas on the wall of the alcove beyond the fireplace. Walking closer, she saw degrees from Harvard, awards from the London School of Economics, the letters dancing in front of her eyes.

All the diplomas were Cade’s.

Humiliation wasn’t an emotion new to Tess; but she’d never before felt it so keenly or so painfully. She hadn’t even graduated from high school.

Worse, she was the daughter of a small-time crook and his unscrupulous mistress.

Cade Lorimer was way out of her league. One thing was certain—she’d never be his mistress. Not that she wanted to be, of course.

Viciously Tess dug the poker into the glowing coals, tossed another log on the fire and went back to her book.

Dinner was a welcome break, even though her appetite had deserted her. But when Cade still wasn’t back by nine o’clock that evening, Tess clumped downstairs to the kitchen. She was trapped in this horrible house for another night, she thought irritably, making herself a mug of hot chocolate, stirring in too many marshmallows, then taking an experimental sip.

Behind her, the swing door swished open. Cade said, “You’ve got marshmallow on your chin.”

She glowered at him. “Nice to see you, too.”

“I need a drink—something stronger than hot chocolate.”

“How’s Del?” she countered; and realized to her surprise that she really wanted to know.

“Cranky as a bear in a cage. Coming home late tomorrow afternoon. Whose clothes are you wearing?”

“The butler’s granddaughter’s,” she said.

The tights were too short and the T-shirt too small. Trying very hard to keep his gaze above the level of her breasts—which were exquisitely shaped—Cade opened the door of the refrigerator, took out a beer and uncapped it. Taking a long draught, he said, “Hospital food has to be the worst in the nation and their tap water tastes like pure chlorine.”

He’d dropped onto a stool by the counter and was loosening the collar of his shirt. He looked tired, she thought reluctantly, watching the muscles in his throat move as he swallowed.

His body hair was a dark tangle at the neckline of his shirt; the thin cotton clung to the breadth of his shoulders. As he rolled up his sleeves, corded muscles moved smoothly under his skin. Moved erotically, Tess thought, and buried her nose in her mug. What was wrong with her? She never noticed the way a man moved.

The silence had stretched on too long. She said politely, “Is it still raining?”

“Supposed to stop tomorrow morning.” He took another gulp of beer. “What did you do all day?”

“Read in the library.”

“Right up your alley,” he said with a faint smile.

One smile. That was all. No reason for her to feel as though he’d given her the sun, the moon and the stars. The man had charm to burn, she thought crossly; but she’d always considered charm a slippery attribute at best. Picking up her mug to drain the last of the hot chocolate from it, she said tautly, “If you’re not able to drive me home tomorrow morning, I’m sure there’s a chauffeur hidden away in this barn of a house. I’ll get him to drive me…good night.”

“Wait a minute!”

Furious, she glanced down. His fingers—those elegant fingers—were clamped around her left wrist. “Let go,” she flared. “I’m not in the mood for macho.”

“Del won’t be home until the afternoon, and he wants to meet you—so you can’t go back before that. And when you meet him, don’t say or do anything to upset him. He’s to be kept quiet for the next while, and he’s not supposed to worry about anything.”

“You told him I was here? That I’d meet him?” she said, her voice rising.

“Of course I did. Why else are you here?”

“How was I supposed to leave? I don’t have a car, there’s no bus to Malagash Island and I don’t like hitchhiking in a downpour.”

Cade stood up, still clasping her wrist. “You’ll meet him, Tess. You don’t have to throw your arms around him. But, by God, you’ll be polite.”

“Is this your CEO act?” she snapped. “Well, whoop-de-doo.”

Her eyes were like green fire. Not stopping to think, Cade dropped his head and kissed her, hard and fast and with all the pent-up emotion of the last two days. Then he stepped back, his heart juddering in his chest. “I’ve been wanting to do that ever since I saw you jogging on the beach,” he snarled. “You be around when Del comes home, and watch what you say. If you’re half the person the islanders say you are, you wouldn’t want an old man’s death on your conscience.”

His kiss, so unexpected, so forceful, had seared through her like a bolt of lightning. Her adrenaline sky-high, any caution lost in rage, Tess wrenched her wrist free and blazed, “You’re the one who brought me here—what about your conscience?”

“My conscience is my concern. Just behave yourself tomorrow.”

“Don’t tell me how to behave—I’m twenty-two, not ten,” Tess retorted, itching to throw her empty mug in his face. Banging it on the counter instead, she pivoted to leave the room.

Like a steel clamp, Cade’s hand closed around her shoulder. “I’m not only telling you how to behave, I expect to be obeyed. Have you got that straight?”

“I’m not an employee you can fire when the whim takes you!”

“No,” he said in a voice like ice, “you’re Del’s granddaughter.” Then, with a deliberation that was subtly insulting, he released her and stepped back.

Was she really related to the old man she’d seen in the hospital? Or was this whole setup as unreliable as a bad dream? Unable to think of a thing to say, as furious with herself as she was with Cade, Tess marched out of the room with as much dignity as she could muster. As she raced up the back stairs, she realized she was scrubbing at her mouth, doing her best to erase a kiss that had been shattering in its heat, its anger and its imperious demands.

No wonder words had deserted her. No wonder she was on the run.

Once again, she locked her bedroom door.

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