His One-Night Mistress(29)

Himself as the father who didn't care enough to put things right.

Goddammit, he wasn't going to put up with it. Vienna had been bad  enough. But Vienna was on the other side of the Atlantic. New York was  where he lived, the headquarters of his company. They'd hit too close to  home this time.

No more.

It wasn't an opportune moment for Lia to wander into the kitchen,  rubbing her eyes. She was wearing a long silk robe streaked with blues  and reds, belted around her waist; her hair was a loose tangle down her  back. She sniffed the air. "Coffee," she said. "You're an angel."

He said flatly, "Are the others still in bed?"

Her eyes snapped wide. "What's the matter?"

"Are they?"

"Yes. Why?"

He thrust the paper at her, jabbing at the picture with his finger. "I  won't have this, Lia. I won't have Marise subjected to any more gossip  and innuendo. We're going to get married and put an end to it."

She took the paper from him, reading the caption. Frowning, she said,  "Marise has already told everyone at school that you're her father. So  this doesn't really matter."

He surged to his feet. "It matters to me. And it should damn well matter to you."

"I've lived with the fact of my daughter's illegitimacy for seven  years," she said steadily, reaching up in the cupboard for a mug. "And  don't you dare tell me how I should feel."

He snatched the mug from her and banged it on the counter. Pulling her  against the length of his body, he plummeted to find her mouth. Shock  made her, momentarily, rigid. Then she opened to him, digging her nails  into his shoulders and kissing him back with searing passion. Flame tore  through him; he cupped her breast and jammed his hips to hers.

Then, as roughly, he pushed her away. "How soon can you get married?"

"Are you asking me to marry you or telling me I'm going to marry you?"

She looked magnificent, her cheeks the same bright red as the pattern in her robe. "It's not up for negotiation," he said.

"That's what you think."

"Yes, Lia, that's what I think."

Her back to the counter, her hands clasping the smooth edge, she said, "Do you love me, Seth?"

"No."

"So how can you say we're getting married?"

"I like you, I admire and respect you, and I sure as hell lust after you. That's not a bad start."

"It's not enough."

"Then you're a starry-eyed romantic."

"Don't make fun of my feelings!"

His eyes narrowed. "What are you getting at?"

"I've fallen in love with you," she said evenly.

He opened his mouth to argue with her. But something in her stance and  her clear gaze made the words die on his lips. "When did that happen?"

"I realized it the last time we made love … at Meadowland. Maybe it  happened a long time ago in Paris, who knows. It doesn't really matter.  The fact remains that I won't marry you if you don't love me."

"Love's the most abused word in the language."

"That's your opinion-it doesn't happen to be mine. I deserve a husband  who loves me, and Marise deserves parents who love each other. End of  discussion."

"My father loved my mother," Seth snarled. "Much good it's done him."

"My parents loved music, their careers, each other and me. Not  necessarily in that order. We can do it all, that's what I'm trying to  say."

"You're a deluded optimist."

"I'm a realist. After all, we both love Marise. That's a start-a wonderful start."                       
       
           



       

He did indeed love his daughter. "It is wonderful. But it's not the start of anything. For me it's all there is."

"I won't compromise, Seth-I want the whole nine yards," she said, her  chin tilted. "A husband who loves me and who loves our child."

She wasn't playing hard to get: he knew her too well for that. So it was  up to him to change her mind. Short of throwing her over his shoulder  and lugging her to the nearest registry office, Seth had no idea how to  begin. "Corporate mergers are a piece of cake compared to you," he said  caustically.

"I should hope so," she said, her dark eyes full of defiance.

"You look as though you could chew me up for breakfast and spit me out before lunch."

"I have to have my coffee first," she answered with a glint of amusement.

Seth stepped closer, slipping his arms around her waist. Her body felt  deliciously warm and soft, all voluptuous curves under thin silk. "If  only we could go to bed together," he muttered.

"Sex is no substitute for love. Not in my books."

Surprising them both, he laughed. "When it's sex with you, it comes darn close."

Swiftly she reached up, fisting her hand in his hair and dragging his  head down, then hungrily sealing his lips with her own. The kiss slammed  through him. Feasting on all the sweetness of her mouth, he pulled her  closer.

Footsteps clattered on the stairs. Lia shoved Seth away and hurriedly straightened her robe. "It's Marise," she gasped.

Seth was in no shape to face his daughter. He turned to the counter and  busied himself pouring Lia a mug of coffee. Unfinished business, he  thought savagely. Welcome to fatherhood, Seth. The trouble was, Lia was  going home to Meadowland tonight, then to Prague later in the week;  while he was leaving for London and Malaysia first thing in the morning.

The wedding date wasn't set. She'd won this round.





CHAPTER THIRTEEN





THE cab dropped Seth off in front of Rudolfinum, the neo-Renaissance  concert hall on the banks of the Vltava in Prague. It was pouring rain.  He ran for the entrance, his black shoes splashing through the puddles.

He was late. He'd be lucky if he made it for the intermission.

He hadn't planned to come to Prague. He'd planned the exact opposite. To  keep his distance from Lia for a while. Let her cool her heels, come to  her senses and decide to marry him.

The usher led him through the well-dressed crowd mingling during the  intermission to the best box in the house; Seth had achieved this by  pulling any number of strings at once. The door to the box closed behind  him. He hung up his raincoat and sat down in the plush seat. His  trousers clung damply to his legs. His hair was wet.

But he'd made it in time to hear Lia play.

The audience as well as the orchestra were filtering back to their  seats. The stage was high-arched, backed by an array of gleaming organ  pipes. Seth's box was in full view of the podium. Would Lia see him?

When she was playing, her focus was too strong for her to be distracted. He hoped.

He hadn't made love to her since that night at Meadowland. It felt like  forever. Wasn't that why he was here? To make love to Lia?

He was here to change her mind on the subject of marriage.

He had a reputation as a perennial bachelor; in the early days of his  career, the gossip magazines had used up considerable ink trying to pair  him off with one glamorous beauty after another, all to no avail. Yet  now he was determined to marry a woman he didn't love, a woman who was,  moreover, resisting him every step of the way.

Did he want to marry solely for Marise's sake?

Hadn't he been avoiding this question all week?

A panel in the wall swung open and directly across from him Lia walked  out on the stage. The audience broke into spontaneous clapping. As she  acknowledged the applause, looking around her, she suddenly saw him.

Her steps faltered. Even from his perch, Seth could see shock flash  across her face. Then it was gone, erased as though it had never been.  She took her place by the podium and smiled at the conductor.

Her dress was scarlet, strapless and slim-fitting, her lips the same  uncompromising color. Her hair was drawn back with two sparkling clips;  with a clench in his gut Seth noticed she was wearing the earrings he'd  given her. Just before the conductor raised his baton, she looked  directly at Seth.

Intimate. Intense. Challenging. How would he describe that look? It had gone straight through him, he knew that much.

As she raised her instrument to her chin, the orchestra played a single  chord. Then the violin began its restless, lonely searching, lyrical and  melancholy. Seth sat stone-still. Although the Nielsen violin concerto  had long been one of his favorites, tonight it was as though he'd never  heard it before. Lia was playing for him alone, he knew she was; as the  minutes passed, she released all her love, passion and pain in a  glorious outpouring of music that shook him to the core.                       
       
           



       

The final chord filled the sumptuous hall. A roar of applause broke out.  Feeling as though he'd been stripped naked in full view of every soul  in the hall, Seth got up, left the box and sought out the house manager  in his office. "Would you see that Lia d'Angeli gets this note?" he  said, passing over a sealed envelope with a banknote discreetly tucked  beneath it.