More Than A Mistress. Sandra Marton
conservation committee together.”
“My ex-husband,” Alex said. “I use my maiden name. I’m Alexandra Thorpe now.”
The woman winced. “Yes, of course. Sorry. I’d forgotten.”
“That’s quite all right. Now, if you’ll excuse me…”
“Oh, I know you’re in a hurry to pay for your purchase.”
“My purchase,” Alex said, and felt the color shoot into her face.
“Yes. We’ve set up a desk, in the lobby.” The woman led Alex toward the double doors. “But I wanted to take a moment to thank you, personally, for making tonight’s high bid.”
“Ah.” Alex smiled again and wondered if it were possible for your lips to stick to your teeth. “No need,” she said brightly. “I’m more than happy to—help out.”
“If only everyone felt that way. But let me tell you, Ms. Thorpe, they don’t. As chairperson of the auction these last two years, I know how rarely people make such generous donations.”
“Yes.” Someone batted the doors open and Alex and the chairperson stepped through them. “Well, I know—I know what fine work your organization does, Mrs. Rhodes…”
“Have you decided what you’ll do with your bachelor, Ms. Thorpe?”
Alex swallowed dryly. “No. No, I…Actually, I doubt if I’ll, ah, if I’ll use him at all, Mrs. Rhodes. I, uh, I already have plans for the weekend.”
“Oh, that’s too bad.”
“Yes, it is, isn’t it?” Alex came to a stop, opened her beaded purse and dug inside it. “Look, why don’t we do this right now? I’ll make out a check, give it to you—”
“Well, you’re supposed to pay at the desk…Oh, never mind. I’m happy to make an accommodation for you.”
Alex took out her checkbook. “The Children’s Hospital Fund, right?” Her hands were trembling. Could she write out the check and sign it so it was legible? She scrawled the name of the fund and the amount she’d bid—the incredible amount she’d bid, for a man she could only pray she’d never see again—signed her name, ripped out the check and handed it to the chairwoman, who beamed happily and clutched it to her ample breasts.
“Wonderful, Ms. Thorpe. And now…”
“And now,” Alex said with false gaiety, “I’ll just be on my way.”
“Certainly. But first, if we could just prevail upon you to stay for a few pictures, while you dance with Mr. Baron. For publicity purposes, you understand.”
Alex shook her head. “No! I mean, I just explained, I have plans…”
“For the weekend. Yes, but this will only take a few minutes.” The woman took Alex’s arm. “Do you know anything about him?”
“Not a thing,” Alex said briskly.
“Oh, he’s a fascinating man. So handsome! And those cowboy boots…” The chairwoman sighed. “Oh, if I were only twenty years younger. Unmarried. Well, and forty pounds lighter…”
She laughed gaily, and Alex tried to do the same.
“It will only take a minute, Ms. Thorpe.” She beamed a happy smile in Alex’s direction. “The TV people are here. If you and your bachelor could give them a few pictures. And a short interview? It would be wonderful publicity for the auction.”
“He’s not ‘my’ bachelor,” Alex said, rushing the words together. “You don’t understand, Mrs. Rhodes. I’ve no time to do any of this. Really, I can’t…”
“But you can, Ms. Thorpe,” a deep voice said. “And you will.”
Alex froze. The tempo of her heartbeat increased to something a rock-and-roll drummer would have envied. She took a quick step back and knew, too late, that she’d made yet another mistake because stepping back brought her into contact with the hard, male body that belonged to the voice.
Barbara Rhodes’s eyebrows flew toward her hairline, and Alex knew her fear must have shown in her face. So she took a deep breath, gave a wobbly smile and said, “Oh, dear, I can see that I’m trapped.” And then, still smiling, still feeling the race of her pulse in her throat, she turned and looked up into the face of Travis Baron.
“Hello, Sugar,” he said softly, and smiled.
Onstage, he’d looked handsome and masculine. But up close—up close…
Alex’s heartbeat ratcheted up another notch.
Up close, he was spectacular.
Tall. Tall enough so even she, at five-eight in her stocking feet, had to tilt her head back to look up to him, and she’d worn ridiculously high heels tonight, to go with the equally ridiculous dress. Tall, and gorgeous, with those hot eyes. And a nose that surely had once been broken. And that mouth. That sexy, almost cruel mouth.
Mrs. Rhodes was right. The man she’d won was handsome. He was gorgeous. He was the fulfillment of every wild, middle-of-the-night dream she’d ever had, in the long-ago days when she’d still been foolish enough to dream.
And he was dangerous. Even she could tell that.
What were you thinking tonight, Alexandra?
The chairwoman looked from Alex to Travis, and then she let out a girlish laugh. “Well. I can see I’m not needed anymore.”
“No,” Travis said bluntly, his eyes never leaving Alexandra Thorpe’s. “No, you’re not.”
“My.” Mrs. Rhodes fanned her face with Alex’s check. “My, oh my. Uh, thank you again, Mrs….Ms. Thorpe. And thank you, too, Mr. Baron. If you need anything, anything at all…”
Travis reached out, took Alex’s arm and drew her away from the chairwoman.
“Which is it?” he said.
Alex blinked. “I—I beg your pardon?”
“She called you Mrs. Then she called you Ms.”
His hand tightened on her arm. Alex looked down, saw the darkness of his fingers against the paleness of her skin. And forced herself to take a deep, deep breath.
“It’s…” Lie. Tell him you’re married. Tell him anything. Just get away. Get away, while you can…“It’s…” Her eyes met his. “If I said it was Mrs. would you go away?”
He smiled. The smile made his mouth tilt and his eyes get even darker. Most of all, it made her stomach drop toward her toes.
“Not until you introduced me to your husband, so I could see for myself what kind of man would be stupid enough to leave a woman like you so unsatisfied that she’d look at a stranger with so much hunger.”
Color flooded Alex’s cheeks. “Mr. Baron—”
“Are you married, or aren’t you?”
“I’m divorced. And if you think I looked—that I looked…”
“I don’t think, Sugar. I know.”
Travis slid his hand down her arm, to her wrist. He’d thought of all the things he’d say to this woman as he’d battled his way through the crowd toward her. Subtle things. Soft things. How beautiful she was. What he’d felt at the sight of her. But standing close to her, with the scent of her in his nostrils and the silken feel of her skin under his fingertips, he’d suddenly known that there was no reason to be subtle, or cautious. He was on fire, and so was she, and he’d be damned if he’d play games.
“You need me,” he said, very softly. “And I need you. And I promise you, we’ll satisfy our needs before this night ends.”
His words should have shocked