More than a Mistress(5)

It had nothing to do with Travis Baron, who was too handsome for his own good, and too untamed for hers.

"Am I right, Ms. Thorpe? Am I gettin' the old heave-ho?"

Alex tilted her head and looked at him with polite interest. A cowboy, and with a dented ego.

Ah, how quickly things had changed.

This was her turf, not his. Too bad he'd learn it the hard way. Too bad  she'd come close to forgetting it. She was Alex Thorpe. Buying a man,  indeed. Thinking she'd take him to her bed, and for what'? To prove  something to an ex-husband she didn't give a damn about? She had nothing  to prove to anyone, certainly not to herself.

All right, so she'd come rushing to the auction in a mood that was  foolish and potentially dangerous. And yes, she'd done a dumb thing,  making that bid. But she'd almost done something even more foolish,  fleeing. People would talk about her bid for days. Weeks, maybe, until  some better bit of gossip came along. Did she want them to also talk  about the way she'd run out of the hotel'?

She knew what she had to do.

Play out the game. Coolly, with sophistication. A touch of wry humor  would be nice. Make it obvious that she'd bid on this man for fun, that  she'd done it because she'd wanted to do it, not because of anything  more personal.

And not because of the way she'd suddenly felt-suddenly imagined she'd felt-when Travis Baron's eyes had met hers.

The ballroom had emptied out. Those people who'd attended the auction  were standing around the lobby in little knots, shooting glances at the  two of them with barely concealed interest.

Well, she'd give them something to watch, but not something to remember.

Alex looked up. The cowboy hadn't taken his eyes off her. His expression  was still intent. Beyond that, she couldn't read him at all. That  troubled her a little, but not much. The balance of power had shifted.  She had the upper hand now, and if there was one thing she knew how to  do, it was how to use power.

"I'm not giving you the brush-off, Mr. Baron." She lifted her arm, her  brows drawing together as she glanced at the tiny gold-and-diamond watch  on her wrist. "I do have another appointment. But-"

"Break it."

She laughed gaily, as if he'd made a joke. "Oh, I can't possibly do  that. But I do understand my obligations." Still smiling, she lay her  hand lightly on his arm. "If you'd be good enough to lead the way into  the room that's been set aside for the after-auction party, I'll give  you one dance."

"Give it to me?" he said, very softly.

She heard the edge in those simple words and felt the muscles in his arm  bunch beneath her fingers. But she was still riding the heady rush that  came of knowing both her feet were back on solid ground, and she heard  what he said as she wanted to, as an affirmation of which of them had  taken control.

"That's right. Perhaps I'll even permit a quick interview." The sound of  music drifted from a nearby doorway and she raised her voice, just a  little, to be heard over it. "And then, of course, I'll be on my way.  You do understand, don't you?"                       
       
           



       

Oh, yeah, Travis thought, he understood, all right. The Ice Princess had  asked him to escort her to the party but it was only a formality. It  had been an exercise of privilege and power; how could a man who'd grown  up surrounded by such things not recognize it? She was in charge here;  the arrogant smile on her face said as much. Without waiting for his  reply, she turned and made her way toward the music, confident that he  would follow.

A muscle bunched in his jaw. Alexandra Thorpe figured she was playing  him for a fool, playing Lady of the Manor to his Bumbling Cowboy. It  made him angry as hell, but he wasn't about to let her know that.

Not yet.

He set off after her, as if he'd accepted the part she'd given him.

None of what was happening surprised him. He'd known something was up,  after she'd made the winning bid. He'd seen the look on her lovely face  go from wanton desire to disbelief When she'd turned to flee, he'd  started to go after her but the other bachelors had rushed on stage to  congratulate him and make jokes at his expense. He'd tried to break free  but when he saw Barbara Rhodes stop Alex before she got away, he'd made  himself stand still and endure the good-natured banter.

By the time he'd finally broken loose, he'd felt like an over-wound spring.

Peggy, the Slave Mistress, had come running up to him, as he started off the stage.

"You see?" she'd crowed happily. "What did I tell you, handsome? You didn't have a thing to worry about."

"What's her name?" he'd asked, and Peggy must have heard the tightness  in his voice because she hadn't teased him or laughed, she'd simply said  she'd asked the same question.

"Alexandra Thorpe."

"Married? Or single?"

"I don't know."

He'd nodded his thanks and begun to turn away when Peggy put her hand on his arm.

"Handsome?"

"Yes?" he'd said, impatiently.

"She's not for you."

"Yeah. Thanks for the advice."

"I'm serious. Remember what I said about her being an Ice Princess?"

Travis had looked squarely at Peggy. "You were wrong."

"No. No, I wasn't. Girl who told me the lady's name said she's got a freezer where her heart's supposed to be."

Travis had smiled. "It's not the lady's heart I'm interested in," he'd  said, and then he'd gone down into the crowd, barely acknowledging the  slaps on the back and the cheers from Pete Haskell and the other guys he  worked with, pushing through everybody until, at last, he'd reached the  lobby and-saw Alexandra Thorpe.

She'd still been talking with the chairwoman. Her back was to him, and  he'd treated himself to the pleasure of the view. All that golden hair,  streaming over her shoulders. The straight, elegant back, naked almost  to the base of her spine. The gently rounded bottom, outlined in the  silk garnet skirt. And those legs, those endless legs, encased in black  hose that tapered down to shoes with heels high enough to make a man's  mouth water.

He'd wondered what he'd find beneath that sinful excuse of a dress, when  he took it off her later tonight. A black lace bra, with a matching  garter belt? A scrap of silk that might be called a pair of panties?

Travis had felt his body tighten.

Or would there be nothing under that dress except the garter belt, and the sexy stockings?

His fingers itched with the need to find out.

He'd started toward her, then slowed his pace.

Something was wrong. It was in the set of her shoulders, the tilt of her  head. He'd looked past the Thorpe woman, to the gray-haired chairwoman.  She was smiling but there was no mistaking the earnest look on her  face. She was making some sort of pitch.

He got closer, and heard enough to know he was right.

"It will only take a few minutes," she was saying. "If you and your  bachelor could give the TV people a few pictures and a short interview,  it would be wonderful publicity for the auction."

"He's not `my' bachelor," Alexandra Thorpe had said. You don't understand, Mrs. Rhodes. I'm not staying. Really, I can't."

Travis had stepped up behind her and told her that she could stay, that  she would stay. For some reason, he'd gone heavy on the Texas drawl that  was always just a heartbeat away. "Sugar," he'd called her, liking the  way her eyes flared a little at the name. She'd been off balance,  fighting something inside her-and then, suddenly, it had all changed.

It had been like seeing a woman pull a veil over her face. Or a mask.  Yeah, that was it. Alexandra Thorpe had disappeared behind a mask, and  it wasn't the first time it had happened tonight. It was just that he'd  misread it, before. She hadn't gone from naked longing to confusion,  she'd gone from longing to disbelief. Either she didn't know she was  capable of that kind of desire or she didn't want to know it. Now, she  was covering it with her Lady of the Manor act.                       
       
           



       

Covering, and she'd blamed him for it.

Instinct, as well as anger, urged him to take her in his arms and kiss  that haughty smile from her face. With an arrogance that was more than a  match for hers, he knew he could not only make her want him again, but  he could make her beg him for the release only he could bring her, once  she was in his arms.

Intelligence-what little he had left of it, considering the way his  hormones were pumping-warned him that to do so would be a mistake. The  thing to do was play along and see where Alexandra Thorpe imagined this  would end.

Polite applause sprang up as she led him to the center of the dance  floor. Barbara Rhodes must have seen them coming. The orchestra stopped  in midbeat, and the chairwoman took hold of the microphone.