Memoirs of a Millionaire's Mistress (10 page)

‘Not your boyfriend, eh?’ Joan chuckled. ‘He’s been distracted all evening. And you too, I think.’

Didi glared at the sandwich as she sliced it into ruthless triangles,
not
being distracted by the man and her unwise reaction to him. ‘I don’t need a man in my life.’

‘Ah, but maybe he needs you,’ Joan murmured.

Didi’s laugh came too fast, sounded too brittle. She reached for more bread, more ham. Cameron’s ‘need’ for Didi wasn’t the kind Joan was referring to. It would never be anything else.
Cameron
had made it quite clear their three-week arrangement was all there was.

And she’d agreed.

So…maybe that made it okay to watch him as a purely sexual being…She lifted her eyes…He was talking to a boy with a baseball cap on backwards and dirt-stained hands.

A shout nearby had Didi turning sharply. A teenager had collapsed and was lying on the floor. Cameron was beside the girl in seconds. ‘Call an ambulance!’ he yelled as pandemonium broke out amongst the crowd gathering around the unconscious girl. ‘Everyone move back. Joey, go wait out the front for the ambos.’

Joan flew into action, phoning the emergency services while Didi rushed around the counter and elbowed her way to Cameron’s side. ‘Anything I can do?’ Didi’s heart was thumping. The girl was sheet white, her lips blue, skin cold to the touch when Didi took her hand.

‘Stay out of the way.’ His attention didn’t waver as Didi chafed the girl’s hand and kids jostled for a better look.

‘And get those kids back,’ he barked. ‘She’s unresponsive, barely breathing.’ He shoved up her sleeve, revealing the tell-tale bruising. ‘Overdose.’ He expelled a four-letter word, then muttered, ‘Lizzie, when are you going to learn?’

He knew her name, Didi thought. He knew the kids’ names. Didi absorbed that information for a split second, then, snapping into action, she shooed the audience back, giving Cameron air and space to work.

He checked the patient again. ‘Mask.’ His voice snapped with authority—no nerves, just an iron control—obviously he’d done this before, and more than once.

Joan appeared, dropping to her knees beside him, handing
him the requested mask. He placed it over the girl’s mouth and nose and immediately began resuscitation.

Seconds dragged by without end. Cameron worked steadily, breathing for the girl while Joan checked her pulse and Didi kept a clear space between them and the onlookers.

Finally, finally, the wail of a siren. Chaos, noise as paramedics rushed in with equipment. Pressing her lips together to bring the circulation back, Didi turned away. She couldn’t look at Cameron right now. Black spots danced in front of her own eyes. Blame her earlier migraine and medication and lack of food, but, damn, she would
not
pass out in front of him.

She knew now why he’d been so panicked when he woke her earlier. She’d left her pills on the night-stand, he’d jumped to conclusions. And little wonder. She sank onto the nearest chair.

A few moments later she heard the wail of the sirens fade as the ambulance sped away, the background noise of voices and chairs scraping and the drum of her own heartbeat.

She didn’t know how long she sat there. She knew Cameron and Joan were busy, calming kids, talking to those who’d been with Lizzie. Making phone calls.

‘You okay?’ Cameron sat down at the table opposite her, his warm steady hand enveloped her own and dark eyes met hers. Sweat dotted his brow. The lines around his mouth looked deeper. He’d probably been on the go all day and then this…and now her. ‘Yes. Is…she going to be all right?’

The worry lines etched deeper into his brow. ‘We’ve done what we can, now we wait. I’ll phone the hospital later.’

‘You were brilliant back there.’

He shook his head. ‘You look beat. Let’s get you out of here.’

She squared her shoulders and sat straighter. ‘I might look a little under the weather tonight, but I’m not the fragile woman you think I am. I’ve worked in drop-in centres like this in Sydney. I’ve seen it before.’

She saw a new respect in his eyes but he only said, ‘You were ill this afternoon.’

‘I’m fine now. I can wait if you’re not done.’

‘I was on my way over to tell you we were leaving.’

‘I need to help Joan clean—’

‘She’s got it covered. We’re closing up now.’

Didi noticed the kids dispersing. A security guard manned the door. ‘Where will they go now?’

‘Wherever they came from.’ He blew out a breath. ‘At least they know they’ll be safe here, if only for a little while. Come on.’

‘They trust you,’ Didi murmured. And trust, not the sexual buzz she got from his touch, had her putting her hand in his when he offered it over the table top.

C
AM
parked the car in the basement. He must be mad—a willing woman waiting to warm his bed and blot out the memories that stalked him tonight more than most, and he was hesitating.

The tension in the car had been building all the way home. He’d blanked out the past hour’s events and concentrated on nothing except how quickly he could get Didi naked. A survival mechanism, he supposed.

Now he burned, his groin hardening to her proximity, her subtle soap scent teasing his nostrils. He could be inside her slick wet heat in under five minutes, filling his hands with silky flesh and familiarising himself with her taste in all those musky feminine places he’d not explored to his satisfaction yet.

Blocking out the bad.

So why was he gripping the steering wheel and saying, ‘How about a stroll?’

She turned to him, her eyes unreadable. ‘If you want.’

But he couldn’t interpret that tone of voice as he watched her push open the door. He’d made a mistake taking her there tonight, he thought now, grabbing a jacket from the back seat. Allowing her to see more of him than he’d intended.

He pressed his keypad, the click of the locks echoed in the car park’s stillness, then he turned to Didi. Her skin appeared almost translucent under the harsh fluorescent light and he hesitated. ‘You sure you’re up to it?’

She wrapped her coat tighter about her. ‘Of course I am.’

They walked a few moments, not touching. They crossed Flinders Street and took the pedestrian bridge over the River Yarra to Southbank. The night breeze carried the smell of the river. An enticing aroma of Japanese cooking. He could hear the ebb and flow of voices and a band playing a nightspot nearby. If he looked up, the Eureka Tower blotted out the stars. If only he could blot out the past as easily.

His mouth was dry; he longed for a double whisky on ice. Something to dull the edge. ‘I could do with a drink. There’s a bar I think you’ll like.’ He took her hand in his.

Polished auburn marble spread warmth throughout the lobby, shards of light refracted rainbows from the huge chandeliers.

‘We’re not dressed for this place,’ Didi said as they passed function attendees in glittering gowns and crisp dinner suits making their way down the wide curving staircase. ‘It’s five star, for goodness’ sake.’

‘You should feel right at home, then.’ Realising sarcasm was inappropriate, he squeezed her fingers. ‘No one’s looking at us.’

It occurred to him that Kat wouldn’t be seen dead in worn jeans in a place like this. Kat wouldn’t be seen in worn jeans, period, nor had she ever accompanied him to the drop-in centre. Whereas Didi had apparently been involved in a similar voluntary capacity.

He found a spot in the lounge bar, relatively private, overlooking the lobby where water rippled over marble and ornate gilt mirrors reflected elaborate floral arrangements on glass-topped tables.

‘What would you like?’

She shook her head as she removed her coat. ‘Nothing alcoholic; I took that medication earlier. A pot of green tea if they serve it.’

‘Tea, it is.’

She folded her arms, rested them on the table, her shadowed cleavage above a faded pink T-shirt a temptation to forget about Lizzie and Amy and the whole damn world and concentrate on the sweet diversion she could offer.

When the world went crazy…‘Aside from the tea what would you really like?’

Her eyes sparkled in the lights. ‘To be able to snuggle back into my dressing gown on a couch deep enough to get lost in and…’ She trailed off, her voice husky with memories of last night as her eyes met his. And the sparkle turned hot.

He allowed the unspoken to smoulder a moment. ‘Forget the dressing gown and tell me the rest.’

Her cheeks turned pink. ‘You’ve got other things on your mind. I—’

‘Damn right, I’ve got things on my mind. Starting with you, Didi…’

Their order arrived and the words hung between them with all their erotic possibilities. Ice clinked, china rattled as the waiter set the tea and a tumbler of whisky over ice on the table. Cam paid the waiter, then sat back and watched Didi’s colour heighten further.

‘Shall I tell you what I’m thinking about?’ he went on when the waiter had moved away. He leaned closer so he could see flecks of gold amongst the silver in her eyes. ‘I’m thinking about peeling those clothes off you. Slowly. Then sampling every inch of your skin. With my hands. With my tongue. Every inch.’ He let his gaze travel over the swell of her breasts. ‘Or maybe I’ll savour the anticipation and let you strip while I watch before I—’

‘I’m thinking
you
should get naked first.’ The colour had bled into her neck. Her eyes flicked to his lap. ‘I want to watch you get turned on.’

Just the thought of those eyes stroking him with liquid heat shot bullets of fire to his groin. ‘Too late,’ he murmured, watching her eyes widen, her pupils dilate. ‘I already am.’

‘Well, then.’ She picked up her cup, sipped, her expression touched by the humour of it. ‘It’s too bad we have a twenty-five-minute walk ahead of us. In the cold.’

Suddenly he didn’t want to make that long chilly walk. A stroll, for Pete’s sake, what had he been thinking? He took a long gulp of whisky to wet his lust-dry throat. ‘We can be in a warm room in ten minutes.’

She laughed, a tinkling erotic sound. ‘You think so?’

He grinned back. ‘I know so.’ In ten minutes they could both be naked and warm and feeling really really good. Why waste another moment? He felt the grin drop away from his lips. Didi could make him feel good, and a lot more—she could help him forget. ‘What do you say? Are you game?’

She blinked. ‘You’re serious. Here?’

‘You better believe it.’ He lifted his glass to his lips to savour the whisky’s aroma.

‘You mean we’re going to rock up at check-in with no luggage and ask for a room and a “by the way, do you charge by the hour?”’ She set her cup on its saucer with a clink. ‘How many couples check in to five-star luxury for a quick roll over the sheets?’

‘Who says it’s going to be quick?’

Her eyes turned a smoky grey, an early morning heatwave haze with a voice to match. ‘How many hours do you think we might need, Cameron?’ It continually fascinated him; her innocence-in-black-lace routine.

‘Whatever it takes.’ He polished off his whisky in one long draught. ‘As long as we’re home before six-thirty.’

She checked her watch, slurped a few mouthfuls of tea, picked up her coat and rose. ‘Better get started, then.’

‘Ah, a small problem.’ He glanced down at himself. Maybe not so small…

She leaned in, her small breasts brushing against his forearm as she whispered in his ear. ‘Stay close behind and come with me.’

He reached for her cool slim fingers, entwined them with his. ‘I intend to do just that, sweetheart.’

‘Hurry.’ The urgency in Didi’s voice sharpened his anticipation to a razor’s edge.

‘Going as fast as I can,’ Cameron muttered, swiping the keycard for the second time, his free hand still locked with hers.

Finally. He tugged her hand and they spilled into the room like a couple of horny teenagers, tossing handbag and jackets on the floor and not bothering with lights. Only the master lamp cast a muted yellow pool in the room’s foyer.

‘Didi…’ He whirled, pressing her against the door so he could ravish her mouth the way he’d been wanting to since early this morning. His blood pounded into life, roaring through his veins. Already he’d committed her taste to memory, the scent of her skin, the sound of her moan as her mouth opened beneath his.

Their joined hands brushed the front of his jeans; he wasn’t sure who’d made the move, didn’t care. He took advantage, rubbing her knuckles over his throbbing erection while his tongue dived over hers. This fever of need wasn’t anything he’d not experienced before but this strange vicelike grip in the region of his heart was new.

So he’d die of a heart attack in the throes of passion. He’d die a happy man. But he lifted his head, let them both catch their breath. Her breasts rose and fell in rapid succession, hard nipples abrading his chest through their combined layers of worn jersey.

‘I want to see if you’re as beautiful as I remember,’ he muttered, and tugged her T-shirt over her head. Tossed it over his shoulder. Dragged the bra cups down and filled his palms with warm female flesh.

Her skin was rich cream against his darker hands, delicate and fragrant, her nipples pale and tight. Impossible not to taste. He captured one, scraped over it with teeth and tongue.
She hauled in a whimpered breath, tracked fingernails through his scalp. Urgency pinched at his flesh. He wanted those fingers on other, more needy parts.

‘And…?’

She tugged his head away from her breast with the palms of her hands and he fell into her eyes. ‘You’re…’
not what I expected
‘…enchanting.’

What was happening here? Was this more than sex?

He thrust the questions from his mind. It would
not
be more. Peeling them both away from the door, he lifted her off her feet and quickstepped them to the foot of the bed.

He grabbed his wallet from his jeans as he toppled her onto the mattress and followed her down, hot, impatient, wild for her. His fingers fumbled with the leather a moment, then closed over the foil package. He held it up in front of her face. ‘The only condom I have with me.’

Her hand snapped up to cover his, eyes dark with a wicked promise of approaching turbulence. ‘Better make the most of it, then.’

Cameron caught her hand before it slid off his sweat-slick belly. He didn’t want to move yet; he was enjoying the feel of her body tucked against his. ‘So…you said you’ve seen it all before.’

‘I’ve always felt an obligation to try and help out where I can. There was a halfway house for those undergoing drug rehab…’ She moved her head side to side against his shoulder, her fragrant hair tickling his chin. ‘Well, you know how it is.’

He did. And the fact that she did too was a connection he hadn’t anticipated. He was still mulling that over when she rolled onto her stomach, tugging the sheet with her, and traced a finger down the centre of his chest.

‘But you…You let me believe all you were interested in was money.’

He hesitated. ‘For a long time it was. Because growing up
I didn’t have it.’ He should have moved. He should have known she’d ask questions. And he should have thought before he answered. Even in the semi-darkness he felt the incredulity in her eyes.

‘What? Money?’

‘Surprised, Didi?’ His private smile was humourless. ‘Seems we’ve traded places.’

She was silent a moment. ‘You know about my family, tell me about yours.’

His lips turned numb, the black hole that had been his life yawned before him. A life that distanced him for ever from Didi’s world. He pushed her hand away. ‘You don’t want to hear about my family.’

‘I want to know what motivates a man to build a centre for runaways,’ she said quietly. ‘To invest not only money but time and interest. I saw how you were with those kids. Why?’

He shrugged, turned away from those perceptive eyes. But Lizzie’s collapse tonight had wrung his emotions dry. He expelled a long sigh. ‘Because I keep hoping that one day my sister will walk through those doors.’

‘You have a sister?’

His body tensed as the old pain around his heart clenched its fist. ‘Listen, can we just drop this?’

‘No. Tell me about her.’

He’d already discovered Didi’s tenacity and since he’d already opened his mouth…‘Amy. I don’t know where she is, or even if she’s still alive. The last time I saw her I was eighteen and doing what I could to keep us together, she was seventeen and on drugs.’

‘Where were your parents?’

‘Dead.’ His voice sounded flat and devoid of emotion. Experience had taught him emotion made one vulnerable. He didn’t intend to be vulnerable, to anything, or anyone ever again.

‘Oh, Cameron. I’m sorry.’

That old cliché. ‘Don’t be.’ He clenched his jaw against a
rising anger that had nothing—and everything—to do with Didi. What the hell would she know with her childhood of opportunities? ‘It’s the familiar story of drugs and domestic violence.’

‘It might help if you t—’

‘Leave it alone, Didi. It’s ancient history and nothing to do with you.’

Wanting distance, he rolled out of bed and crossed to the window. He didn’t need the woman with her sympathy and sad eyes. Instead he watched the reflections in the river, a late train snaking into Flinders Street Station. For the first time in years he desperately craved a cigarette.

But memories of a childhood he kept ruthlessly buried flashed before him. Wanted fugitive, Bernie Boyd had died during a police chase, Cam’s mother of a prescription drug overdose a few months later.

His biggest mistake had been confiding all to Katrina, and hadn’t she had her moment of glory with the poster campaign?
He’s not the man you think he is.

He would not make the same mistake with Didi.

‘Come back to bed, Cameron.’

Her arms slid around his back, her hands splayed over his chest—not provocative or teasing—just…easy. Soothing. He hadn’t heard her approach but she was warm and suddenly very welcome. Her hair felt like soft warm rain against his skin. He knew if he looked into her eyes he’d see understanding. She didn’t understand of course, but she cared. Perhaps she wouldn’t if she knew, but for now it was enough that she was here.

Wordlessly he turned into her embrace.

Where he knew he was wanted.

Where he wanted to be.

He showed her how much with nips and open-mouth kisses beneath her ear, down her throat, while he let his hands glide over the dips and curves. How good they could be together—
were
together.

She responded with little murmurs and sighs. No words. As if she understood he didn’t want them. She seemed to know just what he needed, yet how could she? She’d known him a matter of days.

Warmth stole through him like a thief, catching him unawares. He’d been damn rude to her—how long had it been since any woman had shown him anything approaching compassion? And he’d cut her off.