Mistress: At What Price? by Anne Oliver Page B

tumbler. ‘How did you go?’
    â€˜Good. Thanks.’
    He leaned down and moved in to touch his lips to hers, lingering. ‘You should have let me come and help you.’
    â€˜You already helped, letting me have the room. And I didn’t want the distraction,’ she murmured against his mouth, while the fingers of one hand grazed the side of her face.
    Dane was tempted to let his fingers drift lower. To unbutton her blouse. To unzip her trousers and make love to her here in the sunlight. Instead he drew back, planted a kiss on her nose and straightened.
    He retrieved his sunglasses, slid them on, and sat on the other lounger, enjoying the sun’s heat on his water-cooled body while he watched Mariel reclasp her hair on top of her head. The action pulled her blouse tight across her breasts.
    He turned to study the sparkles dancing on the water’s surface. She didn’t know the outline of her filmy bra and two aroused nipples showed clearly through her damped-down blouse. He could smell her—a blend of make-up, perfume and sun-warmedskin. He also sensed her need for space right now. Closing his eyes, he made an effort to unwind.
    â€˜Dane?’
    â€˜Hmm?’ His eyes snapped open to see a camera shoved near his face.
    â€˜Smile and look sexy.’
    â€˜What is it with you and photography nowadays?’
    â€˜It helps in my line of work.’ She squinted up at the sun, then moved in, slid his sunglasses off his face, set them aside. ‘Okay, go ahead and be surly. It only adds to the appeal. Women adore that look. You have perfect male model potential. If you’d just polish the rough edges a little.’
    â€˜I happen to like my rough edges. On second thought…’ His gaze snagged hers and his attempts to unwind came to an abrupt halt. ‘Depends on who’s doing the polishing.’
    â€˜That would be me. Maybe a facial…’ Leaning over, she caressed the side of his face with cool, slender fingers.
    â€˜A facial? Not in a million years.’ But it felt so damn good he allowed her to continue. Maybe she didn’t need as much breathing space as he’d thought.
    She pushed his pool-damp hair off his brow, her lacquered nails doing incredible things to the front of his scalp. ‘Definitely a haircut.’ She aimed the camera again.
    â€˜I’m missing something here,’ he muttered as she snapped off a few more pictures.
    â€˜Okay, I’ll let you in on a little secret.’ She checked the camera’s images. ‘I want some publicity shots for my work and I’d like to use you.’
    â€˜Me?’ Incredulous, he slid upright. ‘Me in a fashion catalogue, posing as some woman’s accessory? That’llbe the day hell freezes over. Make that the day after hell freezes over.’
    â€˜No women. Just you.’
    â€˜Just me.’ He squinted at her smile, frowned. ‘What are you up to?’
    â€˜Okay. One of the reasons I wanted to work alone today was because I didn’t want you to see my designs until I told you. I switched to designing men’s fashion before I got involved in modelling.’
    â€˜ Men’s fashion? Why would a woman like you want to design men’s clothing?’
    â€˜What do you mean, a woman like me?’ Setting the camera aside, she sat down and looked at him with a kind of luminous excitement that made her eyes come alive. ‘I happen to be very good at it. And I love the challenge. The preciseness, the detail, the perfection.’
    Green eyes studied him, one perfectly arched eyebrow raised as she cast a disconcerting gaze from head to toe. ‘Texture and style. I’m thinking of you in a steel-grey cashmere V-neck jumper. Something to show your shoulders to advantage.’ She leaned forward. ‘Will you?’
    â€˜Be your model? Not on your life.’ He flopped back again to digest the new information.
    She laughed lightly—an