Lady in Red Page 8

  Yet all her attention stayed on Blaine, everything within her drawing strength from his commanding presence.

  His gaze moved over the crowd as he introduced himself, his voice strong, authoritative. Captivating.

  “Some of you might know me as a friend.” He smiled, acknowledging a few of those in the seated audience. “Some as a business acquaintance. One thing I know for sure,” he paused, holding the audience in the palm of his hand, “is that without you people, I’d never have become who I am today.”

  His stare locked with hers. She lifted her wine glass to her lips with an unsteady hand, draining it.

  “I was once a young boy on the wrong side of the tracks, wanting desperately to prove my own worth. But for too long I allowed the influence and intimidation from older boys—seniors—to pull me right back down. Confronting my own self-doubt was the first major step…”

  His voice warmed her, making her feel safe, secure. And more than a little dazed at knowing she wasn’t alone, had never been alone in her pain. Little wonder she felt a deep connection to Blaine. He understood her in a way only someone who had experienced bullying could. Not only had he dragged himself out of the quagmire the bullies had tried to push him into he’d made a success of his life.

  More than a success.

  She barely heard the rest of his speech—he’d already touched her deeply—but knew it must have been rousing by the standing ovation he received.

  When he returned to his seat, she’d already shrugged off the imaginary security blanket. Already ignored the signposts she’s earlier glimpsed. She wouldn’t be caught up in the emotions of the moment, wouldn’t surrender her whole past like it’d never been.

  She wouldn’t make light of a history that had dictated her future.

  The coiffed woman took the stage and thanked Blaine. As the applause finally died down, she brought the night’s speeches to a close.

  Brandy barely noticed. Not when Blaine took hold of her hand and pressed it to his chest…his heart.

  Oh god.

  She wanted only to bask in his warmth and generosity of spirit, wanted only to surrender to him completely. He might have played dirty in the past, but right now, all she saw was his goodness. She didn’t have the strength to snatch her hand free. Instead she dropped her eyes from his, distanced herself emotionally.

  “Kate?” he whispered hoarsely.

  His saying her real name felt right on too many levels.

  Get a grip. He’s your client, nothing else.

  Yet goosebumps erupted on her flesh even before she glanced back at his handsome-as-sin profile. Her pulses fluttered with both denial and need. She dragged back some semblance of rationality. He’d paid dearly for her tonight. She wouldn’t let their finale be something easily forgotten.

  She glanced at the main course a waiter presented to her. The aroma of crispy-skin duck was amazing, if only her belly didn’t clench with rejection. Food was the last thing on her mind.

  She leaned close to Blaine. “I don’t know about you, but I’m not really hungry.” Her free hand inched up his thigh at about the same time his breathing deepened. “At least not for food.”

  His eyes glinted, stark and needy. “I’ll make the appropriate excuses as soon as I can and we’ll head off.”

  She smiled, her hand lingering on his thigh. “Please…you eat. I need to use the ladies room.”

  Seeing the line-up of twittering ladies in the nearest restroom, she chose to walk to one she’d seen some distance from the function. Besides, the last thing she wanted right now was to brush aside the envious, sideward looks from any number of Blaine’s admirers.

  It would have only made it even more starkly apparent how easily he could replace her after tonight.

  Minutes later, she was peering into the well-lit mirror, relishing the lack of female company as she uncapped her lipstick and reapplied a delicate smear of crimson to her lips.

  She dropped her hand and took a step back, her green eyes sharpening as she assessed herself critically. She’d worked hard to keep herself toned, and at twenty-six years of age, she looked damn good. Skin lightly tanned, her figure slender but lush in all the right places.

  Little wonder Sharlene didn’t recognize her. No longer was she the cheaply clothed, self-conscious kid others noticed for all the wrong reasons. No longer did her grades matter, which had dropped alarmingly due to her many absences from school.

  No longer did she feel unwanted.

  Abandoned.

  Inadequate.

  The band started up another song, though it was faint from this distance. She dropped her lipstick back into her clutch bag. Time to return to the party. Time to go home with Blaine and end the night on a sexual high he wouldn’t soon forget.

  Even once he is happily married with two point five kids?

  She pressed a hand to her belly as nausea rose fast inside.

  Whatever she shared with Blaine…it had to stop. She’d never before wanted someone she couldn’t have, never before lusted for a client beyond sex. She’d tucked away daydreams of a far different future a long time ago.

  She’d chosen a life where the risk of being hurt was almost obsolete, as long as she didn’t get close to anyone. As long as she didn’t allow anyone to break through the walls around her heart.

  Lost in thought, she didn’t notice the reflection in the mirror behind her, didn’t hear the footfalls until it was too late.

  “Waiting for me, whore?”

  Chapter Eleven

  ‡

  Her breath came out in a rush as her eyes met Calvin’s glittering, lust-filled stare. Her chest tightened, her pulse raced Oh shit. What had she been thinking? In her line of work, safety came first at all times. Instead, she’d been so busy thinking of ways to not think about Blaine, her welfare hadn’t even registered.

  “No.” She tilted her chin, swallowing back the fear that froze her insides when she added scornfully, “You know I’m already with another client right now. And I don’t do more than one man at a time.”

  “You’re messing with me, right?” He stepped forward, two hundred and sixty pounds or more of bristling menace. “You fuck men for money. Since when do numbers come into the equation?”

  Her breath hissed. The bastard knew that discretion and caution were part and parcel of her service. “Blaine has paid for my exclusive services. End of story.”

  “Exclusive?” His sneering voice caused fear to skid up and down her spine. “What would you know about the word? Or is Blaine brainwashing you into thinking you’re too good now for someone like me?”

  “Blaine is worth a hundred of you.” With her heart in her throat, she tucked her bag under her arm and pushed past. “If you’ll excuse me—”

  “You’re not excused, slut.” He clamped onto her forearm with a meaty hand and hauled her against him. Her bag clattered to the floor and half the contents tumbled out. “You’ll finish what we started last round—before you bailed on me.”

  Fear clawed at her innards when he ground the lump of his arousal against her belly. Right now, she wished desperately for the comings and goings of the chattering ladies in the restroom closer to the party. This far away, she could scream and no one would hear her. At least not now the band had started up again.

  Calvin had her exactly where he wanted her.

  And Blaine would probably assume she got waylaid or was taking her sweet time.

  Damn. Shit. Fuck.

  She had no choice for the moment but to play along.

  She closed her eyes with a breathy and all-too-fake sigh of compliance. The egotistical bastard fell for it.

  “That’s better.” His breath was hot and heavy on her face. “Play nice and you won’t get hurt.”

  Fisting her hair, he pulled sharply. Bobby pins ripped free before tinkling across the tiled floor. Her hair tumbled down as tears sprang to her eyes. He yanked harder still, keeping her head back so that she was completely helpless in his grip.


  “I mean to finish what we started,” he said hoarsely. His free hand cupped one of her breasts and squeezed brutally. Her gasp ended in a whimper when he transferred his attention to her other breast, his fingers clamping onto her nipple and twisting. His loathsome smile reinforced the excited glint in his eyes. “Whether you want to or not.”

  She relaxed in his hold, forcing away all sensation of pain that lashed through her body. “I’ll play nice if you do. Then I’ll fuck you how I’ve always wanted to.”

  His mean eyes glazed over, his grip loosening a fraction. “You’d better mean that.”

  Idiot. The only head he was using right now was the one between his legs.

  “Oh I do,” she breathed. Just wait and see.

  His voice came out thick. “Get on with it then.” His fingers still bunched in her hair, he pressed her downward. “A blowjob first.”

  Yeah, she’d go down on him all right. But only so she could slam a fist into his family jewels—she hadn’t been lying when she said she was going to fuck him just the way she wanted to.

  Fuck him over.

  She looked up and licked her lips. “I can’t wait.”

  And not in the way you think, asshole.

  “Dirty whore,” he said hoarsely, splaying his thick thighs wide apart while she used deft fingers to undo his straining fly.

  Sick fuck.

  He’d pay for this, and not with his wallet. His pants and boxers dropped to his feet, his thick and stubby cock springing forth even as she fisted one of her hands. She’d make him hurt so badly he wouldn’t want sex for a month.

  Her mouth curled. Sharlene would probably be singing her praises, if she only knew.

  Calvin looked down. “That’s it, whore,” he said thickly, “take me in your mouth and suck hard.”

  In his dreams.

  “Calvin! Oh. My. God.”

  Brandy dropped her fisted hand as Calvin stumbled back, giving her a clear view of a flame-faced Sharlene…and a white-faced Blaine.

  She swallowed. Always inscrutable, this once Blaine looked barely controlled. But of course. He’d paid an obscene amount to be with her tonight. Seeing her apparently servicing someone else was the worst kind of business practice from someone in her profession.

  Her eyes met Blaine’s. “It’s not what it looks like…”

  She clamped her mouth shut. Even to her own ears her words sounded lame. She glanced at Calvin, who was busy fumbling with his trousers. For the first time as a call girl, she felt ashamed. A whore on her knees with a man’s trousers around his feet.

  No one would believe she hadn’t wanted this as much as Sharlene’s husband.

  She pushed back a wave of crushing defeat. She’d never once allowed herself to feel dirty in her chosen career, until now. Somehow she kept her shudders all on the inside. Dear god, she’d never felt more soiled.

  Sex was her trade of choice. But not like this…never like this.

  Blaine had always treated her as a successful businesswoman and a princess rolled into one. He’d at least give her a chance. “Blaine, you believe me, don’t you?”

  A muscle in his jaw jerked. His eyes glinted with raw betrayal.

  Funny the ache inside her chest, knowing his mistrust really did mean the end of their business dealings. No second chances, no going back. Though she’d had full intention of terminating their arrangement, deep down she’d hoped it wasn’t the end. Not really.

  The world’s stupidest call girl. Who’d have thought?

  Sharlene’s eyes flashed. Evidently stunned into silence at what she’d witnessed, she became vocal with her accusations as she faced her. “You couldn’t bloody wait to pay me back, could you?” she spat. “After all those years of me being better than you, this was your perfect revenge.” A tear trekked its way down her makeup-caked face. “Well, I hope you’re satisfied.”

  Brandy rocked back onto her knees. “Your husband followed me in here.”

  Calvin snorted. “You wanted my money, you greedy little slut. You seduced me! Why else would you have used these restrooms?” He turned to his wife. “You know this doesn’t mean anything to me, sweetheart.”

  Brandy knew there was little point in defending herself, and she cared less what they believed about her anyway. Blaine was the only one whose faith and trust she wanted. Needed. Shame she couldn’t even have that.

  She gathered up her clutch purse and its scattered belongings as a numbness took hold within. Only when Blaine’s warm hand enclosed one of hers did any sense of feeling return. She looked up at his serious, set face as he hauled her effortlessly to her feet.

  “I’m taking you home.” His hand remained curled around hers when he turned to Calvin and said in a tone of voice that dared rebuke, “You ever call my woman a slut or whore again, and I will destroy you.”

  Her head whirled. My woman? He did believe her then?

  Blaine’s arm around her waist secured her to his side when they left a stuttering Calvin behind with his enraged wife. She looked up at her savior as they headed toward the exit, but his face was unreadable, even when he nodded to a couple of guests who’d drifted away from the fundraiser, the same as themselves.

  The band was breaking into Roy Orbison’s lively, upbeat theme song from Pretty Woman when they walked out the exit doors. The sheer coincidence might have been amusing under different circumstances.

  Once in his Porsche and on the road, it soon became apparent they weren’t heading to his townhouse. She turned to him. “Where are we going?”

  His profile looked stark beneath the intermittent flashes of streetlights. “Home. Like I said.”

  Oh? She knew he owned plenty of other houses in other countries around the world, but hadn’t realized he owned another in this city.

  When he pulled into the driveway of a huge, sprawling harbor-side mansion, she peered at him once again. But he kept silent, brooding, even when he climbed out and opened her passenger door to escort her inside.

  Her heels tapped on the hardwood floors, echoing in the cavernous room that appeared to be all stainless steel fixtures and huge, dark-tinted windows. Red sofas and an eight-seat table with red candlesticks as its centerpiece were bright splashes of color against the stark white walls of an open lounge and dining room.

  It appeared his passionate streak was spreading further than the bedroom.

  “Impressive,” she voiced aloud, striving for a normalcy she didn’t feel. She turned to him, but he was already behind her, dominant and oh so tall. “And it’s yours?” she asked.

  “Ours.”

  “Ours?” she repeated weakly.

  Surely he didn’t want her as his mistress now? At least, not after what he thought he saw between her and Calvin. And surely he didn’t for one moment imagine she wanted to become exclusive?

  Yet, despite inner denial, a yearning built and built, overwhelming and all too needy.

  “Yours and mine,” he said almost savagely, his words slicing through the air as though they were ready to inflict harm.

  Her eyes narrowed. Whatever Blaine had kept from her on the journey here, it was all too apparent now. He was a man wounded and bristling with emotions longing to get out. An explosion just waiting to happen.

  Her sigh was all on the inside, right along with the heartache. He hadn’t believed her innocence then. What had she expected? When it came down to it, she was nothing more than his paid fuck. She’d do well to remember it.

  She died a little inside, even before she pulled out a foil from her clutch bag and placed it into his hand. She couldn’t face his accusations. Not now, when things were still so raw. Maybe not ever. No, she knew better ways for him to blow off some steam. When she pivoted from him, she blinked back tears before tossing her bag onto the sofa and heading toward the lounge room’s balcony doors.

  Far-off music from a late-night party trickled inside as she stepped out onto the terrace and slowly peeled off her dress, her movements on autopilot.

  The cool touc
h of night air caressed her breasts, which were still aching and sore from Calvin’s unwanted attentions. She pressed a hand to her mouth and beat down the revolting memory, right along with the knowledge of Blaine’s low opinion of her.

  She’d dwell on all the hurt later. Right now, Blaine was a client, first and foremost.

  Right now, she needed to forget.

  Chapter Twelve

  ‡

  She sensed Blaine behind her seconds before he spoke. “We don’t have to do this,” he said. “Not now.”

  She didn’t turn around. “But I do,” she whispered. “I really do.”

  She only hoped Blaine would understand. She’d lived a good part of her life needing sex to make things right in her world. She had no doubt the moment he took her in his arms that Calvin’s name would be diluted, right along with Blaine’s distrust…and all the rest of the bad stuff in her life.

  His big hands were suddenly on her shoulders, moving up and down her arms before his mouth gently nuzzled her throat. She relaxed against him, his deft touch creating a magic within that she could never quite define.

  No one triggered all the right buttons as he did. No one else affected her in every way that counted.

  She released a pent-up sigh. It wasn’t sex she needed. It was Blaine.

  One of his hands touched her evidently bruised upper arm. She flinched and his hands stilled, his voice low. “Much as I do want you right now, maybe it’s not such a good idea.”

  She closed her eyes, willing back composure. Jesus. She was a call girl, men paid to have sex with her. She wasn’t going to let the bruise of one bad incident ruin her reputation—ruin it for her clients and for herself. And she most certainly wasn’t going to let Blaine think she didn’t want him.

  She needed to lose herself with him. Needed her arms around his neck and her legs around his hips.

  His hands dropped. “At least not this soon after—”

  “Right now is perfect,” she interrupted with a quick, throaty laugh. She arched against him. “I love sex, you know that.”