More than a Mistress(7)

       
           



       

Travis shifted his weight. What was he doing to himself? Another couple  of seconds, the TV camera and the crowd were going to be treated to a  sight he'd never live down. It was time to take this strange little play  to a private setting, where the next scene could be played out, in  full.

He slipped his arm around Alexandra's waist, his hand splaying against her hip in warning.

"Okay," he said cheerfully, breaking into the middle of some inanity of the reporter. "Okay, folks, that's it."

The little knot of journalists groaned. One of them began to ask another question but Travis just kept smiling. And talking.

"Hey, guys, don't you think Ms. Thorpe and I are entitled to a little time alone?"

"You have a three-day weekend to be alone," one of them said, and they all laughed.

"And a weekend to plan," Travis said. He looked down at Alex. "Right, Ms. Thorpe?"

"Right, Mr. Baron," she said, flashing him a smile that was vaguely reminiscent of the snarl of an angry Doberman.

"I just love that old-fashioned formality," the reporter gushed. "Mr., Ms.... So charming!"

Travis laughed merrily as he began backing Alex from the dance floor.  "Well," he said, "Ms. Thorpe is just an old-fashioned girl."

As if on cue, the orchestra struck up another waltz. Come on, Travis thought, come on!

People surged onto the floor to dance.

Travis didn't waste any time. He let go of Alexandra's waist, grabbed  her hand and all but sprinted for the door. She tried to tug free when  they were halfway through the lobby but his fingers tightened on hers.

"Keep going," he said, and led her out the main doors, past the doorman  and down the wide marble steps. Anybody watching would figure they were  making a romantic getaway. He almost imagined it, himself, until they  reached the street and she dug in her spiked heels, wrenched her hand  from his and spun toward him.

"Exactly what do you think you're doing?" she said, turning her angry face up to his.

"Calm down, Sugar."

Alexandra stamped her foot. "Kindly do not `sugar' me!"

"My car is parked just up the street."

I 'Do you really think I give a damn where your car is parked?" Alex  tossed her head. "Listen to me, Mr. Baron, and listen well. You are,  without question, the most horrible man I ever-"

Travis rolled his eyes, grabbed her wrist and tugged her down the street and into a doorway.

"Don't you ever think before you make a scene, lady? Or do you like being in the spotlight?" "I cherish my privacy."

"Yeah, well, you've got a strange way of showing it." He waved his hand  in the general direction of the main entrance to the Hotel Paradise.  "What makes you so sure that nitwit reporter and her bozo cameraman  weren't hot on our heels, huh?"

He could see her face pale a little, even in the darkness of the doorway.

"Were they?"

He leaned out and looked. "No," he snapped. "But you didn't even think  about it before you started chewing me out. Just once, you might try  thinking of the consequences before you act."

"Me? Me, think of the consequences?" Alex threw back her head. "Ha," she  said, without the least touch of humor, "oh, ha, Mr. Baron, that is a  good one! That's really something, coming from you."

Travis folded his arms. "I," he said loftily, "am not the person who got us into this mess."

And now that he thought about it, it was a mess. He'd made an idiot of  himself, prancing around onstage. And then the Thorpe babe had made an  idiot of herself, running away. And just now-he'd kissed her in front of  a zillion people in a way he'd probably never, ever live down.

"I am the innocent party in this entire unfortunate affair, sir!"

"Hey, Sugar. Don't you pull that Ice Princess bit on me."

"Are you deaf, Mr. Baron? Do not call me `sugar."'

"Forgive me, Ms. Thorpe!" His mouth thinned and he shoved his face  toward hers. Despite herself, Alex took a hurried step back. "Princess  suits you," he muttered. "That little lady'll never know how right she  was!"

"What little lady?"

"Never mind." A muscle knotted in Travis's cheek. "The bottom line here is that I am tired of being the villain in this piece."

"Are you suggesting that I am?"

"You bid on me, remember?"

Color shot into her face. "Permit me to refresh your memory. Mr. Baron.  This was a bachelor auction. The whole purpose of the event was for  women to bid on men."

"Uh-huh."

"What, pray tell, is that supposed to mean?"

"It means you didn't have to bid so much for me that you brought the house down."                       
       
           



       

"I don't have to listen to this-"

Travis grabbed her shoulder as Alex tried to brush past him. "And then,"  he growled, "as if you hadn't drawn enough attention to us already-"

"I drew attention?" Alex tossed back her head and laughed. "Oh, I love  that, Mr. Baron. I wasn't up on that stage, prancing around like a-a  male stripper!"

A smile tilted across Travis's mouth. He shifted his weight so that he  blocked the doorway. All Alex could see were his broad shoulders and his  ruggedly handsome face, only that and the dark night that surrounded  them.

Her heart skipped a beat.

They were on a street in a busy city but she suddenly felt as if they  were the last man and woman on Earth. It was the same way she'd felt  when, with bravado in her blood and idiocy in her brain, she'd burst  into the ballroom and spotted him onstage. The same way she'd felt on  the dance floor, when he'd kissed her.

"Exactly how many male strippers have you watched in your time, Ms. Thorpe?" he said softly.

"Mr. Baron." Her voice squeaked. She cleared her throat and began again.  "Mr. Baron, really. I think we should just call it a night and-" Alex  caught her breath. Travis had caught a strand of her hair between his  fingers. She watched, wide-eyed, as be drew it to his nostrils.  "What-what are you doing?"

"I like the smell of your hair, Princess. What is that? Opium? Joy?"

"It's-it's just..." She stepped back again as he moved closer. Her  shoulders hit the closed door behind her. "I-I don't remember." She  didn't, either. She couldn't think straight. Was that breathless little  voice really hers'? And was she really trembling? Alex shut her eyes,  moaned as Travis touched his lips to her throat. "Mr. Baron..."

"Under the circumstances," Travis said huskily, "I really think we might move on to first names. Don't you, Ms. Thorpe?"

Didn't she what? Alex shuddered as his breath warmed her skin. She couldn't think, not while he was-while he was...

"Mr. Baron-"

"Travis."

"Travis. Travis, really, I think-"

"Yeah. So do I" His arms went around her. He gathered her against him,  her breasts against the hard wall of his chest, her thighs against his.  She put her hands out to ward him off. Instead, somehow, they curled  into the lapels of his tuxedo. "I think it's time I kissed you again,  Princess, but without an audience."

His mouth came down on hers.

"No," she whispered, "please..."

"Let go, Princess." He kissed her, soft, gentle kisses that made her  lips cling to his. "Just let go and do what you want to do."

His hand slid up, captured her breast, his thumb moving across the  silk-covered nipple. And, for the second time that night-for the second  time in her entire life-Alex did what she had never done before.

She let go.

She gave a little cry so wild and plaintive it made his blood quicken.  And wrapped her arms around his neck as she rose on her toes and tilted  her pelvis against his.

Travis groaned. His mouth slanted hungrily over hers, his tongue seeking  and finding access to the silken sweetness of hers. He slipped his  hands down her body, following the narrowness of her waist, the soft  curve of her hips, and cupped her bottom, lifting her into the hardness  of his arousal, moving against her as she cried out against his mouth.

"Alex," he whispered.

"Yes," she sighed, "oh, yes."

He kissed her shoulder, bit the flesh, bent his head further and sucked  the silk-covered center of her breast into his mouth. His hands swept up  her thighs, under her skirt; she was wearing what he'd dreamed she was  wearing, just those sexy stockings, a scrap of lace and nothing more. He  said something she couldn't understand, thrust his hand beneath, the  lace and cupped her.

She was hot. Wet. The aroused smell of her fueled him with desire. Her  sobbing little breaths torched him with flame. And when she kissed his  throat, sank her teeth into his flesh, he knew his need for this woman  was greater than his need for breath.