Mistress: At What Price? Read Online Free PDF

remember any occasion when Mariel had allowed herself that indulgence since early high school. She probably hadn’t noticed that her dress gaped at the front, revealing more creamy cleavage. Another tinny sat on the ledge beside her.
    He took that as an invitation.

CHAPTER THREE
    M ARIEL tilted the can to her lips and rolled the familiar bitter Aussie brew around her tongue. So much for tonight’s decision to avoid alcohol. The night seemed to call for it after all. She stiffened when she heard Dane’s footfall on the marble tiles, then made a conscious effort to appear relaxed. Rolled her shoulders. Stretched her neck. Unclenched her fingers on the can. No way would she allow him to see the effect he’d had on her tonight.
    â€˜I didn’t take you for a beer kind of girl,’ he said, appearing from behind the foliage.
    â€˜When in Oz…’ She tossed him the other can. ‘Happy New Year, again.’
    He caught it one-handed, popped the top, but remained standing a few steps away. It gave her another moment to take in the whole man. And what a man. He’d always had a well-toned body, but he was no longer the eighteen-year-old she remembered. He was twenty-eight and in his prime. His face had weathered somewhat under the harsh Australian sun, but it only increased his rugged appeal. Harsher jaw. Darker stubble. Eyes that saw more, knew more.
    She forced away the shiver of disquiet that rippleddown her spine and looked further. Beneath his shirt he was all hard muscle. She knew because when she’d pushed him away earlier he’d been as unyielding as concrete.
    Model looks? No, not smooth enough, not conventional enough, with that careless hair. Scowling, she tipped another mouthful of beer down her throat. He was more the dark heroic type.
    Not hers.
    â€˜So what are your plans while you’re here?’ he asked, sitting beside her. He assumed the same sitting position as her on the edge of the circular pool, not quite touching her. But she could feel his body heat across the tiny space. Her skin prickled with the awareness that if either of them moved a millimetre she’d feel the hair on his arm brush against her skin.
    She sat perfectly still and said, ‘At the moment I’m not thinking beyond chilling out and surfing the sofa for a few days— after I’ve thoroughly reacquainted myself with my bed.’
    And, yes, in the charged hiatus that followed she knew he’d caught the image she’d unthinkingly tossed out there. Damn.
    He cleared his throat and said, ‘You’re staying a while, then?’ into the charged stillness.
    â€˜Yes.’ She had no choice. But she wasn’t telling him that. He might still be Dane, but he was a man… The fiasco in Paris was still so raw and recent it brought a chill to her bones. Her shoulder muscles tensed and tightened.
    â€˜Mariel.’
    She turned at his simple touch on her shoulder, ready to flee. Or fight. Or mash her mouth against his. Sheesh.
    â€˜I can feel the tension in your body from here.’ Heset his beer aside and reached up, took a pin from her hair. ‘For goodness’ sake, woman, loosen up.’
    She sucked in a breath. ‘What are you doing?’
    â€˜When in Oz…’ He took out another. ‘I always liked your hair down,’ he murmured. ‘It’ll relax you.’
    â€˜Relax…?’ Her thoughts disintegrated. Mesmerised, she gazed at him, his eyes focused on the task as he concentrated on removing the clasp on top of her head.
    â€˜Yes…’ Then his fingers were in her hair, and she was turning towards him while he loosened it, so that it tumbled down over her shoulders and released the pressure, massaging her scalp in slow circles on either side…
    Oh, yeah… She forgot all about tension and tired muscles. She wanted to arch and purr and follow him to the ends of the earth. No one had hands like Dane. No one