Not For Sale. Sandra Marton

here tonight.

      For those reasons, no other, Lucas took his supposed mistress in his arms and kissed her. It wasn’t even much of a kiss, just a light brush of his mouth over hers.

      But her lips were warm. Silken. Her little “oh” of shocked breath was warm, too, and tasted of mint. Toothpaste, he thought in surprise, a taste that didn’t quite go with the sexy dress, the do-me shoes, and.

      And, he stopped thinking.

      Everything around him faded. The crowd. The noise. The Rostovs. It was as if each of his senses was solely concentrated on the woman in his arms.

      Lucas drew her closer. Slid one hand to the base of her spine and lifted her slightly, just enough so that she fit the contours of his body while he cupped her face with his other hand.

      He felt the soft pressure of her breasts against his chest. The tilt of her hips against his. The delicate arc of her cheekbone under his fingers.

      Felt himself turn hard as granite.

      His lips parted hers. She made a little whisper of sound and he thought, Yes, that’s it, kiss me back.

      She did. For a heartbeat. Then she stiffened. She was going to pull away.

      He told himself, with admirable logic, that he couldn’t permit that. If they were lovers, she would be eager for his kisses. Anytime. Anywhere. Not just in bed.

      Which made him imagine her in his bed, her hair spilling in golden disarray over his pillows, her eyes hot with hunger as he entered her.

      Dani sank her small, sharp teeth into his lip.

      “Cristos!” Lucas jerked back. Touched the spot with his finger. No blood, nothing but a flash-fire rush of fury.

      Rostov roared with laughter. Ilana’s eyebrows sought refuge in her hairline. And Dani…Dani looked as if she might turn and run and, damnit, he could not let that happen!

      Lucas’s life had taught him many lessons. Quick recovery. Damage control. Self-control. He needed all those skills now. Somehow, he managed a smile as he wrapped his hand around the blonde’s slender wrist. She’d have to wrestle herself free of his grasp and he was betting she wouldn’t let that happen.

      “Now, sweetheart,” he said, his smile changing, going sexy and intimate, “you know we don’t play those games in public.”

      Another laugh from Rostov. A pause, and then a little sigh from Ilana.

      And the best reward of all, the cold pleasure of seeing crimson sweep into his defiant translator’s beautiful face.

      “No,” she said, “we—you and I—we don’t pl—”

      “Exactly, darling. We don’t.” She looked as if she were torn between embarrassment and the desire to murder him, and that made it easier for him to tug her closer, curve his arm around her waist and hold her captive against his body. “If you want your reward, you have to wait until the evening ends. You know that, Dani.”

      He knew the second his message registered. If she wanted his thousand dollars, she’d have to play the role Jack Gordon had crafted for her.

      “Understand, sweetheart?”

      Her eyes flashed. No embarrassment now, no fear. “I understand completely—sweetheart.”

      Lucas laughed. The lady had guts. He had to admit, he liked that in her. He wasn’t accustomed to it. Women rarely stood up to him. Well, not until he ended a relationship and then some of them balked, but flying into a rage wasn’t the same thing as standing up to him.

      Rostov elbowed him in the side. “Your lady is vildcat, Luke-ahs.”

      Yes. She was.

      She was a great many things. Beautiful. Bright. Skilled in Russian—he had no proof of that yet but, somehow, he felt no reason to doubt it. Add the sweet taste of her mouth, the alluring scent of her skin, the lush feel of her against him and she was an intriguing package, the embodiment of sex and intellect rolled into one.

      Except for her name.

      It didn’t fit her. It was flippant. Unfeminine. And she was neither. She’d be an interesting woman to get to know.

      Too bad that wasn’t on the agenda.

      “You know,” he said, glancing at his watch, “it’s getting late. Why don’t we go straight to the restaurant and have drinks there?”

      “Ve vill haff champagne,” Rostov said, clapping Lucas on the back, “once we walk over two tiny spots, da?”

      Lucas cocked his head. Dani rattled off something in Russian, Rostov answered, and she looked at Lucas.

      “He means that there are two small areas of concern in the deal you and he have made, and he wants to talk about them.”

      Lucas smiled.

      His plan had worked. Rostov was ready to conclude things, Dani understood the nuances of translating. And seeing her now, cheeks still slightly flushed, hair a little disheveled, eyes glittering, not even Ilana would question their relationship.

      He could relax.

      All that remained was a final few hours of sociability. Then he and Rostov would shake hands and say goodbye, Ilana would become a bad memory, he’d give Dani Sinclair a check for a thousand dollars and they’d never see each other again.

      He’d have to thank Jack Gordon.

      This wasn’t the disaster he’d anticipated. In fact, it was working out just fine.

      Caroline sat across the restaurant table from The Woman With The Frozen Face and wondered how she could have got herself into such a situation.

      Two rich men. A woman married to one of them but on the make for the other. And she, the buffer between them.

      Actually, that part had worked out just fine.

      She still couldn’t believe how quickly Lucas Vieira had got out of the quicksand after she’d bitten him. She still couldn’t even believe she’d bitten him!

      Hell, he was lucky she hadn’t grabbed the nearest lethal object and brained him with it.

      Kissing her that way. Pulling her against him. Letting her feel the beat of his heart, the warmth of his body. The swift hardening of his aroused flesh.

      Biting him was better than he’d deserved and though she’d been furious at how easily he’d turned the bite into something sexy, she had to admire him for being fast on his feet.

      Caroline reached for her champagne flute and brought it to her lips.

      And for using the incident to convince the Botox Cougar that they were lovers.

      Ilana had bought the entire act. She’d followed Caroline into the loo after they’d taxied to the restaurant and looked at her reflection in the mirror that hung above the elegant triple vanity.

      “Congratulations, Miss Sinclair.”

      “Who?” Caroline had almost said, but she’d remembered just in time.

      “Your lover is quite a man.”

      A blush had crept into Caroline’s face. What did you say to that?

      “Surely,” the Cougar had purred, “he is remarkable in bed.”

      The mirror had shown Caroline the color in her face going from pink to red.

      “He’s all right,” she’d blurted.

      Ilana had laughed. Even the attendant, who’d come to the vanity to provide them with little hand towels, couldn’t repress a smile.

      “I think he must find your attitude a change from the usual, da? The careless way you treat him.” The Cougar’s eyes had met Caroline’s in the glass. “You know, I did not at first believe