Maxine Sullivan – Mistress & a Million Dollars / Satin & A Scandalous Affair: Mistress & a Million Dollars (страница 12)

His eyes dropped to her mouth. “I think I like it.”

Her heartbeat accelerated. “Don’t get too used to it.”

“That’s good. Because I kind of like that snappy Briana Davenport, too, remember.” He stood her inside the glass cubicle and picked up the soap. “And now, let’s see what type of fireworks we can make for ourselves tonight.”

She opened her mouth to jokingly point out that water would put out any fireworks, but his kiss stole her words away. Before too long she didn’t care anyway. She went up in flames first, then he joined her, and it proved one thing. They were combustible together, wet or not.

Afterward, he left her on the bed and walked out of the room with a towel wrapped around his hips, saying he’d be back shortly. Satiated but trying not to show it too much, Briana pulled the edge of the comforter over her nakedness. It was silly to even consider hiding her body, but she was still tingling from his touch. She had been putty in his hands. And that wasn’t good. Not good at all.

He was back in a few moments, carrying a woman’s robe. He came over to the bed and held it open for her, but she stared at the oyster-colored silk as if it carried the bubonic plague.

“Don’t worry. It’s new.”

“Order in a supply, did you?” she said, relieved not to be offered something worn by one of his previous lovers. Then she saw the label still attached to the sleeve. She glanced up at him. “This is one of the pieces you bought at the casino.”

“Yes.”

She almost said something about his getting his money’s worth, but she didn’t want to bring that up. Not right now. Not after he’d made such wonderful love to her. Besides, her brain was tired from fighting.

She let her mouth ease into a smile. “I hope you don’t plan on me wearing them all.”

A surprised glint of amusement appeared in his eyes. “That was my intention.”

“Good luck,” she quipped, throwing the cover aside in an attempt to be blasé. Then she got up and slipped into the robe. “You’re going to need it, mister.”

A moment’s silence met her ears, and she looked back at Jarrod behind her, only to find his eyes dark with desire.

He turned her in his arms to face him. “Lady, having you in that robe is all the luck I need,” he murmured huskily, his gaze raking down her bare skin exposed by the open gown, making slow warmth heat her cheeks.

“Um…what about the pizza?”

“They deliver late.”

He kissed her then and it turned her inside out, and soon he had slipped the robe back off her shoulders, slowly, slowly making love to her once more.

As Briana watched him enter her, she knew one thing. It was wonderful to be wanted by a man who wanted her. Not just Briana, the model.

Five

The sound of muffled voices out in the living room woke Briana the next morning, but it was the angry undertone in Jarrod’s voice that made her sit up and listen. She hadn’t quite heard that disdainful tone before. She’d been the recipient of his derision, but his voice held so much contempt she felt sorry for the other person.

“This is the last time, Anita,” he was saying now, in a firm tone that brooked no argument.

“How can you say that, Jarrod? I’m your mother,” a woman’s voice said tearfully, making Briana gasp.

“You are not my mother. My mother is back in New Zealand looking after my sick father.”

“And who gave you the opportunity to be a Hammond?” Anita said, her tone coldly unemotional now. “If it hadn’t been for me, you would never have been given that silver spoon in your mouth.”

He made a harsh sound. “Yes, I suppose that’s the only decent thing you ever gave me.”

“There you are, then. You should be grateful.”

“Anita, don’t pretend you gave me up for adoption for my sake. It was for you, and you alone.”

Briana was out of bed by this time and slipping into the silk robe, curious in spite of herself. She had to see what Jarrod’s real mother looked like.

“That may be so,” Anita was saying as Briana tiptoed up to the bedroom doorway. “But I need money, Jarrod, otherwise I’ll lose the house.”

“That’s not my concern,” he snapped, as Briana carefully peeked around the doorframe and saw a petite, well-dressed blonde facing her hostile son. But even from here, Briana could see the hardness in her face. It was written clearly in her eyes and in the tight way she held her mouth. This woman was out for all she could get.

“You can spare ten thousand dollars for a loan, Jarrod. You probably make that much money every time you go to sleep.”

“I work hard for my money. I invested it well.”

“We’re not all good money managers, son.”

“Don’t call me that,” he growled, then swore and strode over to his briefcase and took out his checkbook. “This is it, Anita. This is all you’re getting.” He quickly wrote out the check, then shoved it at her. “Now here. Take it. And don’t ever come back.”

The woman greedily snatched the check, read the amount, and her eyes widened with glee. She folded the paper and put it in her handbag. “I won’t come back. I promise.” A minute later, she left without a word of thanks, or regret, and Briana’s heart squeezed with hurt for Jarrod. He didn’t deserve a mother like that. No one did.

“You can come out now, Briana.”

She stepped away from the door with as much aplomb as she could. “How did you know I was there?” she asked, moving into the living room.

“I heard the swish of your walk.”

“Oh, you did not,” she chided, slightly embarrassed. He’d been much too busy with Anita.

“I did.” His eyes slid over her with lazy sensuality. “Like now.”

The arm of the sofa was close by, so she casually sat herself down on it, her knees weak. Then she took a breath and concentrated on the woman who had angered him so much. “She’ll come back, you know.”

All at once, he turned toward the patio door, but not before she’d seen the bleakness in his eyes. “Yes, I know.”

“Will you give her more money?”

His shoulders stiffened but he didn’t turn around. “No. She’s gotten enough out of me over the years.”

She soaked up this information as she considered the tense line of his back beneath the gray polo shirt and black trousers. His clothes may be casual but their quality wasn’t. Neither was the tumultuous feelings he must hold inside him.

“How long have you known her?” she asked, not sure he would share any information with her.

He remained where he was. Then, “Anita first came looking for money in my early twenties.”

Her heart softened with sympathy. How terrible that his mother had come looking for money, and not her son. “Does she come often?”

“She turns up every couple of years and asks for a ‘loan,’” he said, and this time he did spare her a look over his shoulder, his eyes filled with cynicism.

Briana stood up and went beside him. “You don’t owe her anything,” she said quietly.

“I know.”

She put her hand on his arm. “But I guess it’s hard to cut ties, no matter what she’s done to you.”

He glanced at her, put his hand over hers. “She never hesitated to give me up, you know,” he said, surprising her with the admission. “She told me so the first time I met her. She said she’d been young and single, and a baby would have tied her down, and she’d had no intention of giving up her freedom.”

Briana winced at the other woman’s insensitivity. She hated thinking how he must have felt when he discovered she had so easily given him away. Up until then he had probably given his mother an excuse, some leeway, as to why she’d given him up. But to face the reality that she just hadn’t wanted a baby, hadn’t wanted him, and worse, that she hadn’t cared, must have been a dreadful shock.

“She’s just selfish, Jarrod. Lots of single mothers keep their babies, even back then.”

He dropped his hand and turned to face her. “Exactly. If she’d given me up for me, then I could have forgiven her. But it was all for her.” His jaw clenched. “I was better off without her.”

“Absolutely.” She paused, not sure whether to ask or not. “What about your real father?”

He shrugged. “Apparently he died years ago.”

She arched a brow. “You were never curious about him?”

“No. Should I have been?” He grimaced. “Look, I was never curious about my birth parents. Never. I had a terrific upbringing and so did Matt. As far as I’m concerned, Katherine and Oliver Hammond are my real parents and Matt is my real brother.”

Her throat almost closed up for a moment. “Good for you,” she said huskily, and meant it. She was beginning to see a new side to the Hammond family that was no longer tarred by Marise’s somewhat sarcastic comments. Not that she hadn’t liked the Hammonds when she’d met them at Marise’s wedding and the few times since. Only, now she could see a different dimension to them, and she liked what she saw.

She gave a slight smile. “It may sound crazy, but when I first heard how Howard believed his kidnapped son was alive, I thought for a moment it might have been you.”

Jarrod snorted. “There’s a thought. Son to Anita Stirling or Howard Blackstone? What a choice!” He shook his head. “No, I’m afraid I’m not the missing heir to the Blackstone fortune. Thank God!”

Briana had to agree with him. He’d been adopted by the Hammonds, raised by the Hammonds—he was a Hammond. To find out he actually belonged to his family’s enemy would have been hard to take. And now that she knew how cruelly his mother had abandoned him, the blow would be doubly hard.