Mistress: At What Price? by Anne Oliver

and his untamed hair fell over his brow. Her heart started up the irregular beat that had become almost familiar over the past couple of days.
    Clutching the sheet to her, she slid to the side of the bed. ‘Good. Okay…’ Her limbs went to water. She simply couldn’t do sophisticated this morning—not with Dane watching her with those eyes. Eyes that soothed, yet excited. She even struggled with casual. Dane had seen every exposed inch of her last night, but in the light of day…
    â€˜I think I’ll take this out onto the balcony,’ he said, hefting the tray without giving her so much as a glance. Giving her privacy. Allowing her to keep her dignity. ‘Nice view of the river from up here.’
    She could have kissed him. No. Erase that thought . Before he changed his mind, she dashed naked to the wardrobe, grabbed her change of clothes and high-tailed it to the bathroom. Closed the door. Let out a ragged breath.
    So much for her woman-of-the-world reputation.
    She was immediately faced with her own reflection in the large mirror above the vanity. Sweet Lord, was that tousled woman with the thoroughly loved look really her? She stepped closer, staring at the wide eyes smudged with last night’s mascara. The rest of her make-up had rubbed off hours ago. She explored her cheeks with her fingertips. Was that afterglow or whisker burn? Emotion or lust ?
    She whirled away and turned on the shower, waited for the room to steam up. Why couldn’t she be as casual about last night as Dane? No mention of whether he’d enjoyed what they’d done—he’d been more interested in breakfast.
    Not that she’d expected pretty words or a tender declaration of feelings. Not from a man like Dane. The truth was she didn’t know what to expect from a serial playboy. After one short-lived relationship with a fellow Aussie she’d met while on a weekend in London, she’d only ever slept with Luc.
    Dane’s lifestyle was light-years from anything she’d ever experienced. She might have a glamorous career and international exposure, but he was still way out of her league. Nor did she believe for one moment his confession moments ago that he was still coming to terms with their altered relationship. He’d just said that to soothe her pride.
    It hadn’t, but it had been thoughtful of him to try.
    She stepped into the black-tiled cubicle with its gold fittings and double showerhead to see if the soft spray could do the job instead. If she felt confused and somehow hollow and…dissatisfied, that was her problem, not his. She didn’t know what he expected of her today ortonight. Tomorrow or even next week. Whether whatever he felt for her had changed in the past few hours.
    Her head fell back against the tiles as the water caressed breasts still tender and tingly from last night. She only knew how he’d made her feel when he’d been inside her. Like nothing she’d ever felt before. Strong, fragile—a contradiction. It was too much.
    It wasn’t enough.
    Desire—even overwhelming desire—could never be compared to love. And what Dane felt for her was desire.
    But love… Love could make a fool of the most rational of people. It could tempt one to throw away every belief, every plan, every dream, and swallow you whole.
    She should know.
    She stepped out of the shower with renewed resolve. Love would never make a fool of her again. From now on it was logic and reason.
    From the beginning of this arrangement it had been a tacit acknowledgement that they’d end up becoming lovers. It had been inevitable.
    Just as it was inevitable that they’d end up going their separate ways.
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    They returned home together, then Mariel spent the next couple of hours at her new business premises a few moments’ drive away. Not to avoid him, she told herself, but because it was vital to make a start.
    The little room was bland, cramped and