Yours for the Night (23 page)

“Good.”

They started the incline. It wasn’t tough, but it did quicken her pulse—though having him so close on her ass could have caused that.

“I think you should explain it, too.” His breathing didn’t change an iota, dammit.

“It’s quite simple. I’m an expensive woman with expensive tastes.” She 143

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looked back to catch his eye, but his sunglasses reflected the sky. “Last night you had your one and only on-the-house session.”

She waited for him to sputter or tell her to take a flying leap into the reservoir. She hadn’t intended to be so blunt or to come off sounding rude. Then again, it was good to learn right up front how liberal he was. True, he’d taken her in the backseat of a limousine, but he might very well get his back up when asked to pay for the privilege. She wanted that out in the open now. She was used to men knowing the rules from the start. Doing it the other way round, screwing him first, felt like she’d given him the advantage. She wanted it back.

“How much do you charge?”

She knew it wasn’t entrapment, at least not of the law enforcement kind, but she still wouldn’t let him pin her down. “I don’t charge. You simply show your appreciation.”

“And the more appreciation the better?”

She glanced back once more to gauge his reaction. Without tripping, though, she couldn’t observe long enough. The walk wasn’t working to her advantage. She badly wanted to stop and ferret out every nuance playing across his features. Instead, she continued to climb so her nuances weren’t visible. “That’s exactly it. A woman likes to be appreciated.”

“And desired.” His voice gave nothing away. Dammit.

“Naturally.”

“And the level of a man’s appreciation is based on the amount of his . . . gift.” He gave the barest pause, but it was there. It drove her mad. What did it mean? Dominique couldn’t stand wondering, worrying anymore. She turned and walked up the hill backward. “Good for the thighs and the glutes,” she explained, hoping he wouldn’t see the through the lie. “You’re picking up the idea clearly.”

The sun was bright, they both wore shades. Now she could see his face but not his eyes. “I understand completely,” he agreed, a totally noncommittal reply.

“I don’t normally have sex on the first date,” she went on, trying to draw him out. Really, what did the man think of the fact that she was a courtesan? All right, dammit, a call girl.

“That wasn’t really a date, now, was it. I didn’t call the number, we didn’t prearrange. In fact, you were with another date.” He bit down on the word. She felt the burn of the backward walk in her thighs. “Yes.”

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“Why did you get rid of him?”

“He made several insulting comments about the people at the party. I didn’t appreciate his disrespectful attitude.”

“Admirable.” Was that a hint of a sneer in his voice?

What was it about him? Why did she care what he thought? He was devastatingly handsome, he gave great sex. His demand that she watch his cock taking her was sexy, hot. Last night wasn’t just everyday sex. She liked his sensuality. But even more, he’d expunged her emotions about Edward and the baby, made her forget for a bit. The problem was that very fact put him above other men. It made her need him more, like a panacea to her self-esteem. The only way to have him and maintain her control was to make him pay.

“So we’re set on the rules,” she said, “and the proper appreciation—”

“Look—”

She tripped on a root and went down on her ass hard.

“—out,” he finished.

The puddle soaked through her walking tights and mud squished through her fingers where she’d tried to save herself from the fall. He hunkered down in front of her and pulled off his sunglasses. “Are you all right?”

She snorted. Then spluttered. Then a laugh burst out. “I can’t believe I just did that.”

“I tried to warn you.”

She’d thought he was about to tell her he’d changed his mind because she was too much damn work. “Yes, you did try, but I was too busy spouting off.”

She’d deserved it. She’d been acting the total bitch.

“You even splashed mud on your cheek.” He pointed out a spot. She swiped at it.

He touched her hand, and then, a sparkle in his eyes, he drew his finger down the length of her nose. “And look at that, it’s on your nose, too.”

“You put it there,” she squeaked in feigned outrage. Raising her muddy hand, she slashed a finger down his nose, then across both cheeks. “Oops, I accidentally got you all dirty, too.” He looked like a war-painted Indian.

“So you did. Maybe we need to get a little bit more on you.” He shot a hand around her neck, grabbed her nape and yanked her forward, taking her mouth in a kiss before she could even react.

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Hard, then softening, his lips across hers, taking her by surprise with the sweetness of it. She opened her mouth to him, bracing her hands behind her. He tasted so good she didn’t give a damn about the mud between her fingers. He filled her senses, took her over. She could drift in this nirvana with him forever. It was like pain when he pulled away, short, sharp, up under her ribs like a knife blade. He was close enough to scent, far enough that she didn’t have to look at him cross-eyed. On the heels of that kiss, his dark amber gaze disarmed her.

“Why?” she murmured.

“Why did I kiss you?”

It had all started in the ballroom. “Why did you follow me last night?”

He didn’t even deny it. “I saw you, I wanted you.”

“That simple?”

“There was nothing simple about it. Sex is simple. This was more.”

“So you saw me across a crowded room like in some fairy tale, yadda yadda.”

She tried to make light of it.

“I wanted you badly. I made sure I had you.”

It was the lust-at-first-sight fantasy. You meet a guy in an elevator and boom, your heart starts pounding, your knees go weak, and if there was a power failure, you’d be doing it with him up against the door panel in two seconds flat. If she’d been twenty years younger, she’d have used the word love. Love at first sight. Yet lust could be so much more powerful. Like a drug. She relished his words, the slight puff of his breath coming faster than when he’d walked behind her. Because he’d kissed her, touched her. He was just what she needed after Edward.

And so much more dangerous because of that.

His eyes darkened to melted chocolate. “Did you feel the same?”

It was obvious she had. Why bother dancing around it now? “Yes.” Not the first moment she saw him, but he’d grown on her quickly. Less than an hour after she’d met him, she’d hiked her skirt, straddled his lap, and begged him to make her come. That wasn’t her usual style. In being a courtesan, sex wasn’t her ultimate goal.

“I’ll fuck you anytime you want,” he whispered. She felt his voice as if he’d put his hand between her legs. She’d take him here, now, and you couldn’t get more down and dirty than a mud puddle. But 146

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she’d been Edward’s doormat for fifteen years, and now she couldn’t give in without a fight. “And I’ll fuck you anytime you want to pay,” she countered. He settled, hunkered down before her, one foot balanced, his forearm resting on his raised knee. You’d think he’d show some reaction, even something so small as a twitch of his nostrils or slightly dilated pupils. The man showed nothing.

Then he leaned down and tied her shoelace. “It seems we skipped the first date where you don’t actually fuck. Why don’t we go back there and get to know each other?”

It was a slam. A rejection. Wasn’t it? Yet he’d called Isabel, left Dominique herself a message, and pushed another meeting. He had to want something from her. Just as she wanted it on her terms, perhaps so did he. Wouldn’t it be fun to see who won?

SHE HAD GREAT CALVES IN HER THREE-QUARTER-LENGTH TIGHTS. Great calves, a great ass, and she was walking the pants off him. Figuratively speaking. Gabriel had an interesting time keeping up with the woman, literally and figuratively. Not that he’d let her know it was even the slightest exertion. His breathing remained even, and he hadn’t broken a sweat yet. But she tested his limits in so many ways.

“It’s only another mile,” she said ahead of him. He’d never paid for sex, but if the right moment arose, he had no compunction or moral against it. But he’d had her without the money, and now he was loath to reduce what happened between them to a transaction. He wanted Dominique to give herself freely the way she had in the limo. He’d kissed her in the mud to prove they weren’t all business. She’d have let him do her right there on the path, he knew it.

He wanted her on the edge, willing to give in, wanting him as badly as he wanted her. Screw the gift, screw the monetary “appreciation.”

In truth, he hadn’t been completely hooked when he’d followed her out of the hotel lobby. Interested, yes, but not hooked. Then she’d done him in the car. Watching his cock slide deep inside her, that was the hook. He wanted more of her. He just didn’t want it to be a mere business deal.

“I’m thinking Palm Springs,” he mused.

The slightest hitch marred her firm step. “For a date?”

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“Yes. I thought we’d fly down on Saturday, maybe take the tram up to the top of the mountain, have dinner, spend the night at one of the resorts, and come back on Sunday.”

She tossed the answer over her shoulder without even looking at him. “That’s a weekend, not a date.”

“It’s a date if we have separate rooms.”

“It’s more than twenty-four hours. What if we get sick of each other?”

“Haven’t you ever gone on a weekend trip for one of your regular dates?” He assumed men would pay for something like that, the pleasure of a good-looking woman’s company for more than a night. And some hot sex as well. She stopped, half turning, a hand on her hip and one foot balanced higher on the path. “Actually, I haven’t.” Her lips curved. “It could be fun.”

He liked the idea of being first in something with her. “Next weekend.”

“That sounds fine.”

“Don’t you have to look at your schedule or check in with Isabel?”

“Most men aren’t like you. My dates are usually more last-minute.”

“I’ll make the reservations then.”

And he would plan her seduction. At some point during the weekend, she’d be begging him to do her in every position imaginable. 148

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6

IT WOULDN’T TAKE GABRIEL TWENTY-FOUR HOURS TO BREAK DOWN and beg her to stuff his money in her purse so he could have her. How long? After dinner? When they settled into their hotel rooms? On the plane?

God, she was such a conniving bitch. And she loved it, because she would make it worth every penny Gabriel paid.

“Truly, Dominique, I was beastly, and I need you to forgive me. Please.” On the other end of the cell phone, Trevor didn’t exactly whine, but close. Concentrate. Since her early afternoon walk with Gabriel, he was the only thing on her mind. She’d been sitting on the sun-porch with her tea in her hand thinking about him, which was delicious and frightening all at the same time. Maybe that was the reason she’d agreed to talk to Trevor when Isabel called this afternoon, again claiming he was contrite; consumed by Gabriel, she hadn’t been listening properly. Now she was stuck on the phone with Trevor. If she didn’t concentrate, she might agree to something she didn’t want or need.

“I appreciate the apology, Trevor. Let’s forget the whole episode.”

“But I’d like to see you again.”

“Thank you, but no.” One should always be polite.

“Please. I realize the price will go up, but I’m willing to pay whatever it takes.”

Some men couldn’t take no for an answer, and they didn’t know how to handle rejection. As soon as she told him she wouldn’t take his money, Trevor had to have her. She wasn’t even sure he wanted her. She was in many ways like the women he trashed—older, with abundant curves. She liked herself exactly the way she was; in fact, she’d worked out for months to get this body.

“Trevor, I—”

He cut her off before she could say no yet again. “I’ll do anything you want. You name it.”

What’s up with that? His desperation was almost . . . sad. But he’d already shown his true nature. Besides, she had her date with Gabriel. They’d be flying out Saturday morning. He was so much more a man than Trevor McDowell ever could be. She didn’t need another—

Good God. The thought brought her up short. Some courtesans went 149

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exclusive. They had one man, put themselves at his beck and call. She would never do that. She had her favorites, of course, but she never used the word need.

“Trevor, I’m thinking.” Friday night with Trevor would put her weekend date with Gabriel in perspective. It was just a date. Gabriel was just a man. And he would pay like any other.

“Please, Dominique, tell me how to make it up to you.”

Again, Trevor gave off the scent of desperation, even over the phone. She had a thought. A brilliant thought. Actually, it was Machiavellian. She’d gotten that odd vibe when Trevor commented on the men. What if . . . “There is something I’ve always wanted to experience but haven’t found the right man for.”