His One-Night Mistress Read online

  “I dislike lying.”

  “You like winning.”

  She laughed, a warm throaty chuckle. “Well, of course. Is there anything wrong with that?”

  “I like winning, too.”

  “Then–—as far as my name’s concerned—it’ll be good for you to have a new experience. We should all expand our horizons occasionally, Mr. Talbot.”

  “The name’s Seth,” he said tersely. “And even though you may disbelieve this, I’ve had more than enough experience of losing in my life.”

  Her smile faded; once again she believed him instantly and wholeheartedly. “For that, I’m sorry,” she said.

  “You are, aren’t you?” he said in an odd voice. “You’re beginning to intrigue me–—is this about more than lust?”

  Again panic flared in her chest. She said obliquely, “If a highwayman even noticed anything as ephemeral as a butterfly, he’d crush it underfoot.”

  “How about my version? He sees it as something so beautiful that he simply wants to enjoy it.”

  “But then he has to let it fly away,” Lia said, and heard in her own voice something of the steel she’d earlier heard in his.

  For a moment he was silent, his eyes trained on her face. Then, with a suddenness that startled her, he ripped his mask off and flung it on the floor. His eyes were deep set, a startlingly deep green, flecked with amber. His cheekbones were imperative, and for the first time she saw the full strength of a face that was both too rugged to be truly handsome, and too strongly carved to be anything but formidable. She swallowed hard and said the first thing that came into her head. “I must be mad to be even contemplating going anywhere near a bed with you…and I’m stone cold sober, so I can’t blame it on the champagne.”

  “It’s nothing to do with champagne,” he said softly. “Take off your mask.”

  “No,” she said. “If we go to bed together, you have to promise not to touch my mask. You’ll never know who I am–—that’s the way I want it and that’s the way it’s going to play. If you don’t agree to my conditions, then I’m walking out of here right now, and if you try to stop me I’ll scream the place down.”

  “So the battle lines are drawn…I could change your mind, you know.”

  “But you won’t try. Not if you respect me as you should.”

  Incredibly he began to laugh, throwing his head back so the muscles in his throat stood out like cords. Then he looked straight at her. “I have the feeling my life’s been entirely too dull and predictable for the last many years. Both in bed and out. I’ll tell you one thing–—you’re not dull, and not the slightest bit predictable.”

  Wasn’t that one of the things the critics always said of her? Lia d’Angeli never plays it safe. Never takes the well-worn path. Risks everything to find the heart and soul of the music.

  Nine times out of ten, the risks paid off. But would that be true of tonight? With this man? Or would tonight be the tenth concert, the one the critics pounced on with glee?

  She had no way of knowing.

  CHAPTER TWO

  THE band had struck up a tango, a dance that was a battle of the sexes. Meeting Seth’s eyes full on, Lia said, “You don’t look like someone who’d live a dull life.”

  With an underlying bitterness Seth said, “Appearances can be deceptive, pretty butterfly.”

  So he had indeed known unhappiness, this tall stranger in the black cloak. Somehow that strengthened a decision that was already made. Standing tall, Lia said, “Do you agree to my conditions, Seth Talbot? I don’t tell you my name, and my mask stays in place.”

  He stepped closer, took her face between his palms and bent his head to kiss her. It was all there in that one kiss: the compulsion toward each other, the fierce hunger, the dissolving of all her boundaries. His mouth was sure, the slide of his tongue engulfing her in need; his teeth grazed her lips like the flick of fire. Without hesitation Lia met him thrust for thrust, depth to depth, flame wrapped around flame.

  Very slowly, he drew back. The green of his eyes had darkened, like a forest falling under the shadows of sundown. His heightened breathing wafted her cheeks as he said unsteadily, “I’d agree to anything to get you in my bed. I don’t like your conditions—I don’t like them at all. But I agree to them, and I promise I won’t go against them.”

  She let out her pent-up breath in a tiny sigh. With the faintest of smiles she said, “Well. We can stay here, dance, eat, drink and make small talk. Or we can do what we both want to do–—go somewhere where we can be alone.”

  “I like your style,” Seth said.

  “Life’s short,” Lia replied, feeling her heart racket in her chest, “and I believe in living on the edge.” She gave a sudden rich chuckle. “A cocoon would never be my choice.”

  He said abruptly, “I’m booked into a suite in this hotel. We’ll go there.”

  Her lashes flickered. A suite here would cost more than she earned in a month. So he was rich, this man from Manhattan. She said lightly, “I’ve often wondered what it would be like to stay here. Now I’m going to find out.”

  “So you’re not one of the rich socialites who hangs around Paris at this time of year, waiting until she can open her villa on the Riviera?”

  The image amused her. “I work exceedingly hard for my money,” she said incautiously, “and hanging around wouldn’t suit me at all.”

  “Just how do you earn this money?” he flashed.

  She lifted one finger, tracing the sensuous line of his lower lip, and with a tiny flare of power felt his jaw tighten. “I don’t think we’re really interested in a discussion of our respective occupations,” she said. “I earn my living legally, I’m ferociously ambitious, and I guarantee in ten years’ time you will have heard of me. And that’s all you’re getting out of me. Unless—” she smiled at him artlessly “—you’ve changed your mind about seducing me?”

  “I very rarely meet my match,” Seth said. “Most particularly in a woman. No, I haven’t changed my mind.” With ruthless speed he plunged to find her lips, searing them in a kiss as incendiary as it was brief. Raising his head, he said with a calmness belied by the sparks of fire in his eyes, “Shall we go?”

  As he offered his arm, Lia rested her hand on it, the frail colors of one wing dulled by the dense black of his cloak. Another frisson of terror flicked along her nerves. Keeping her head up, she stayed close to him as he threaded his way through the masked revelers; and knew in her heart that this was the biggest risk she’d ever taken. The violin was her home territory, known, loved with a passion and, at times, hated with equal passion. But in affairs of the heart, she was a novice.

  Unlike, she was sure, Seth Talbot.

  They walked past the doorman, who was absorbed in sorting the piles of invitations. The elevator was made of such highly polished brass that she could see her outline in the walls, a shimmer of turquoise. The scarlet-uniformed attendant pushed the button without Seth saying a word: so he was well-known here, she thought, her nerves tightening another notch.

  The elevator took them to the top floor. The brass doors smoothly closed behind them. Clasping her by the hand, Seth led the way along a high-ceilinged hallway to a pair of tall cream-colored doors scrolled in gilt, and swung them open, gesturing for her to enter. But her limbs refused to obey her. Frozen to the spot, she croaked, “I don’t know the first thing about you.”

  “You know what’s between us–—what more do you want?”

  Her nostrils flared. “You’re six inches taller than I am, you probably weigh seventy pounds more, and if you’re not a black-belt in karate, it wouldn’t take much for you to become one.”

  He let out his breath in a small sigh. “I’ve never in my life crushed a butterfly, and I’m not about to start with you.”

  “I’m supposed to believe you? Just like that?”

  “I don’t know what the hell’s going on between us,” he rasped, “but it sure isn’t casual, that much I do know. We’re going to strip each other
naked, little butterfly, in more ways than the obvious one. So this is about trust as much as it’s about seduction—I thought you’d already figured that out.”

  “I hadn’t,” she said, her eyes smoldering behind her mask. “Trust’s a very big word.”

  He added edgily, “I don’t force myself on women, that’s not to my taste. Plus there’s at least one telephone in every room, and all you have to do is pick up the nearest one for an immediate connection to the front desk. You’re safer here than you’d be anywhere else in Paris, believe me.”

  She was damned if she was going to apologize for her attack of nerves. Walk onto the stage, Lia, she thought wildly, and stalked past him into his suite.

  It took her breath away. Her eyes ranged from one end of the room to the other, tarrying on the delicate gold chandeliers, the luxurious embroidered brocades and tasseled velvets. The spacious parquet floor was spread with antique hand-woven carpets. “There’s even a balcony,” she breathed.

  “With a wonderful view of the Eiffel Tower,” Seth said solemnly. “Would you like to see it?”

  All her doubts dropped away. She turned to face him. “Later. Maybe.” Then she stood on tiptoes and kissed him with an ardor all the more touching for its lack of expertise.

  His eyes narrowed. Taking her face in his hands, he said with careful restraint, “Tell me one thing—you’re not a virgin, are you?”

  Her head reared back; it never occurred to her to lie. “No, of course not. But I’ve only been with one man, and that was three years ago. It wasn’t about lust on my part, it was about curiosity—and perhaps that’s why it didn’t move me, body or soul. Serves me right, I suppose.”

  “I see,” said Seth. “Then we’ll have to make up for lost time, won’t we?” He bent his head, finding her mouth and teasing it open, his tongue dancing along her lips.

  She gave a tiny purr of pleasure, molding her body to his, giving herself over to the unknown and the new with the daring that was so characteristic of her. As she thrust her hands beneath his cloak, wrapping them around the taut curves of his rib cage, he dragged her closer; her breasts were crushed to his chest, his arousal so fierce and imperative that she felt a thrill of sheer, feminine power.

  His kiss deepened, demanding all she could give. With another thrill of power, Lia knew she wanted to give him everything that was in her, all the passionate hunger for life that had driven her for as long as she could remember. His tongue was hot and slick, his body hard and utterly masculine; reveling in a host of sensations, she dug her fingers in his scalp, pulling his head lower, her knees buckling as wave after wave of desire surged through her belly and throbbed between her thighs.

  He muttered between kisses that imprinted her cheeks, her chin, her throat, “We should go slow…it’s been a long time for you and I want to give you—”

  Her answer was to pull at his shirt, loosening it from his trousers. “Don’t fight what’s between us,” she begged. “I want you now, Seth. Now.”

  Swiftly he threw his cloak to the floor and hauled his shirt over his head. Lia’s breath caught in her throat. “You’re so beautiful,” she choked, and briefly laid her cheek against his chest. His heart was pounding. His skin smelled cleanly of soap and of the essence of this man who was both a stranger and yet utterly known to her.

  He said with that thread of laughter already so familiar to her, “How do I get you out of your costume? You could be sewn into it for all I know.”

  She turned deliberately in his arms. “There’s a zipper down the back,” she said, and bowed her head.

  His mouth traced the softness of her nape, savoring every inch, sending shudders of longing through her frame. Then he caught the zipper and with a single tug bared the long line of her spine. She turned again, her eyes glittering, eased her arms from the tight sleeves and let her costume fall to her waist.

  “God, you’re lovely,” he breathed, his heated gaze causing her nipples to harden involuntarily. He cupped her breasts, stroking the ivory curves of flesh, then dropped his head to suckle her.

  She cried out in instinctive response, her body arching toward him, her eyes closed in ecstasy; and all the while his hands, those wonderfully sensitive hands, were tracing the taut curve of her belly and the delicate arc of her ribs. Her breathing quickened, the heat between her thighs mounting to an unbearable pitch. As though he knew, he touched her there, just once, and she rocketed into a climax that made her cry out his name in shocked abandon.

  Boneless, she collapsed against him. “I never—that didn’t…”

  “There’s more,” he said fiercely and swept her into his arms, carrying her the length of the room into a vast bedroom. He laid her on her back on the king-size bed, covering her with his body, kissing her breasts, her shoulders, her mouth, giving her no mercy where none was needed. Then he reached down and ripped her suit from her hips.

  After kicking off her shoes, Lia tugged the turquoise fabric from her legs and feet, only wanting to be naked for him; within her, something never touched before rose and broke at the wonder in his face as he took in the length of her slender body. She said unsteadily, “It’s only me.”

  “You’re so beautiful. So generous and brave.”

  The look on his face made her want to cry. This was about lust, she thought frantically. Only lust. “Seth,” she said forcefully, “you’ve got too many clothes on.”

  His green eyes blazed at her. “Take your mask off,” he said. “Please.”

  She bit her lip, feeling herself weaken at this passionate pleading from a man, she’d be willing to bet, who rarely begged for anything. “I’ve shown you too much already,” she cried. “We have one night, Seth, just one night. But one night can be a lifetime, you understand that as well as I do.”

  She couldn’t tell him who she was. Because Seth Talbot, she knew this in her bones, had the power to change her life.

  From the time she was five, when her first violin had been put in her arms, she’d worked single-mindedly toward one goal: to be one of the best in the world. She wasn’t there yet. With the humility of the true artist, she knew she had a long way to go. She’d also discovered in the last hour or so that a man called Seth Talbot could totally derail her. Distract her from her ambitions, from all she’d studied and practiced and longed for.

  She couldn’t afford to have that happen. No one was going to do that to her.

  “I’ll give you anything you ask but my identity,” she said in a low voice.

  He stood up in a surge of raw energy, pulling off his leather boots and dark trousers. “Anything?” he snarled. “Are you sure of that?”

  “Yes,” she said, refusing to back down. “I’m sure.”

  His body entranced her with its hard planes and flow of muscle. She rose to her knees, the light from the open windows catching on the sequins of her mask. Leaning forward, she very delicately tongued his nipple, hearing his harsh gasp of pleasure over the thrumming of blood in her ears. Then she clasped him by the hips, burying his arousal in the soft valley between her breasts. He threw back his head, thrusting into her, then suddenly pushing her back to fall on top of her on the bed.

  “I can’t think of anything but wanting you,” he gasped, laving her breasts and belly with hands and tongue, then moving lower to push her thighs open. She was all too ready for him, wet, hot and slick.

  “I can’t believe I—” she began, then forgot everything as again he overpowered her, sending her, sobbing his name, to topple over the edge. But even then he didn’t let up. From a long way away, she felt him ease between her legs, felt that first hard push and enveloped him as if he’d been made for her, and her alone.

  His silken thrusts, her own heated welcome…she writhed beneath him, out of control, beyond herself, in a joining that she couldn’t have resisted to save her soul. Possessiveness, primitive and furious, drove her upward until his elemental rhythms were her own.

  She heard him cry out sharply, saw his face convulse, and felt deep w
ithin her the strength and surrender of his release. Her own followed inexorably, throwing her against him as waves dash themselves against the cliffs.

  Utterly spent, Lia drew him down to lie over her. His forehead dug her mask into her cheek even as his breath cooled her throat. When she could find her voice, she whispered, “I’ve never in my life felt anything like that.”

  “Neither have I.”

  Part of her wanted to toss off a joke, to make light of a mating that had thrown all her preconceptions of herself into disarray. But she knew she’d regret it if she did; for this mating was not to be defused so easily. “So for you it was different, too?”

  “Couldn’t you tell?”

  “I’m not exactly experienced.”

  “My second name is control,” he said tightly, raising his head to look straight through the slits in her mask into her eyes. “But I lost it. Totally. With you.”

  What was she supposed to say to that? For she believed him without a sliver of doubt. Trust, indeed, Lia thought with a quiver of panic. How could she trust a man she’d only met an hour ago? Trust was the word on which friendships were based. Not one-night stands. “So did I,” she mumbled. “Lose it, I mean.”

  “I noticed,” he said dryly.

  She gave him the faintest of smiles. “Perhaps we could go a little slower next time?”

  “Your guess is as good as mine,” he said harshly. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned in the last hour, it’s not to anticipate as far as you’re concerned. A useless exercise.”

  Suddenly intensely curious, Lia said, “You must have had a lot of women…I don’t see how I’m so different.”

  “I’ve never gone from woman to woman, that’s not the way I operate. Nor do I ever allow a woman to get too close. You’re different because I had no choice.”

  His expression was inimical. With a shiver along her spine, she said, “That’s what’s so frightening—neither did I.”

  “Right now, I want you again,” he said with passionate intensity. “I want to take my time, explore every inch of your body and learn what pleases you—I want to put my seal on you so you’ll never forget me.”