Enraptured by Mel Teshco

Chapter One
     
    Brandy Alexander, also known as Kate Matthews in her
non-fantasy life, stepped out of the chauffeured town car that had collected
her. Checking her upswept hair was still in order, she smoothed a hand down her
tiny, crimson-leather dress.
    Perfect.
    Clutch bag firmly in hand, which carried the essential tools
of her trade—condoms, lipstick, hairpins and a cell phone—she waited until the
car had slid away into the night. When its tail lights disappeared around a
bend, she stepped toward the townhouse with its familiar red front door.
    The heels of her thigh-high boots clacked on the granite
walkway that led to where her regular client waited. She licked her lips.
Blaine Leo Waymann, thirty-six years young and already a billionaire
businessman and philanthropist. Not to mention voted Australia’s Bachelor of
the Year three years running by Cleo magazine readers.
    He could have any woman he wanted. Yet he’d rung the agency
and asked for her.
    A smile spread over her face, melting the distant echo of
insecurities clean away. This was why she loved her work. This was why she
couldn’t give it up any time soon. She would never underrate the value of being
wanted, even if it was only for one night.
    Her breath puffed in the chill night air, but she barely
felt the cold. Excitement warmed her blood until she wondered if she was
flushed all over.
    Hot and past ready to be fucked.
    Dozens of tiny, discreet garden lights chased away the
shadows. Brandy smiled. She could probably walk this too-familiar path
blindfolded.
    She turned the doorknob, aware it wouldn’t be bolted.
    She was expected.
    Shutting the door behind her before routinely flicking its
lock, she turned back to take in the expansive entryway. Marble floors and
stark-white spaciousness.
    Blaine requested she always wear red and she often wondered
if she was his one smoldering flame in an otherwise clean-cut and conventional
existence. He was a generous and considerate lover, his skill between the
sheets indisputable.
    He looked after those in his care. She had no doubt it was
for his guests’ safety that he had a bodyguard or two stationed around the
perimeter of his Sydney home. The same residence that, until recently, he’d
occupied only sporadically.
    He’d been a regular client, but his appointments with her
had steadily increased. His fixation with her was becoming a habit. But she
knew his type. He wanted what he couldn’t have. He’d offer her the moon and if
she accepted the game would pall and his obsession would wane.
    Her chin tilted as she squared her shoulders. She wasn’t in
the business of having men lose interest in her.
    She sashayed into the living room with its vaulted ceiling
and plush cream carpet. Faint notes of Vivaldi echoed through surround-sound
speakers, making her entrance somehow even more surreal than usual.
    Blaine had eclectic taste, and she never really knew what to
expect. Their every encounter had her gut coiled as if it was a spring and her
body fueled with hot anticipation.
    Going by tonight’s music, it seemed his mood was deep,
passionate. Intense.
    The loud clink of ice drew her toward the adjacent room he
used for entertaining. But her attention wasn’t on the bar and its upside-down
bottles, or the dancing flames behind a glass dome fireplace.
    She had eyes only for Blaine.
    He’d recently had a shower, a white towel slung low on his
hips and his dark hair almost inky-black with moisture. With his back to her,
this once she could afford to drink him in, appraise his athletic, toned body
and his olive skin, thanks to some distant Spanish heritage.
    She swallowed hard as he pivoted to face her. His smile was
a lazy quirk of his lips, vivid contrast to the darkly sinful glint in his
brilliant gold-brown stare. He stepped toward her, dwarfing her even in her
ludicrously high heels. Proffering a squat glass with ice and something
alcoholic, he drawled, “Beautiful as always.”
    The compliment never