Not For Sale. Sandra Marton

      Too much money, too much power, too much arrogance. Mama had always fallen hard for men who were rich and good-looking and one hundred percent no-good.

      Caroline had never understood it. Mama was bright. She was logical about everything else; you had to be, to raise a child without money or a husband. Still, she’d fallen for the same kind of guy over and over.

      One good thing was that Caroline had learned from Mama’s mistakes. She’d avoided boys like that in high school, in college, here in New York.

      So, what in hell was she doing tonight?

      She could never pull this off. Pretend to be Lucas Vieira’s date. His girlfriend. Anybody’s girlfriend, in a setting like this.

      “Mr. Vieira,” she said, rushing the words together, “I think I’ve made a mistake.”

      “I agree. But the people we’re meeting haven’t shown up yet, so—”

      “I shouldn’t be here. I’m not—I’m not going to be very good at this.”

      “You’ll be fine.”

      There was a grim quality to his voice. He was desperate, but how could a man like this be desperate? He could snap his fingers and damned near every female in the place would come running. Okay. He needed a translator. She could, she supposed, be that, but she could never pull off pretending to be involved with him.

      “I can translate for you. But the rest—”

      “The rest is the most important part.”

      Caroline frowned. “I don’t get it. Why would me pretending to be your date be important?”

      “Not just my date.” His mouth thinned. “My lover. My mistress.” His hand moved up her arm to her shoulder. She could feel the heat of his fingers on her bare skin. “We’ll need to convey a sense of intimacy, Dani. Do you understand?”

      She blinked. Dani? Right. Right. That was her name tonight. She was Dani. Oh, if only she were! She had no idea what Dani did when she wasn’t in class but there was a sense of sophistication to her that suggested Dani would know how to deal with a man who looked like this. Who sounded like this, that faint, sexy accent, that husky tone of command. A man whose scent was clean and masculine and crisp, if you could call a scent “crisp.”

      And when had they moved closer to each other? She didn’t recall that happening but, somehow, it had, close enough so she had to tilt her head back to look into his face.

      “Dani. Do you follow what I’m saying?”

      “Intimacy,” she said, her voice trembling.

      “Yes.”

      “But why? If this is a business dinner—”

      He hesitated. To her surprise, faint stripes of color appeared on his cheeks. He shrugged his shoulders and she thought, why, he’s almost human!

      “The man I’m doing business with has a wife. She’s—she’s an unusual woman. Very assertive. Make that aggressive. When she wants something, she goes after it.” The color in his face deepened. “No matter what that something is, no matter if that something reciprocates or not—”

      “She’s hitting on you?”

      “You, ah, you might say she’s…” He paused. “Damned right, she is. And I’m counting on your presence to stop it.”

      Caroline swallowed hard. “Mr. Vieira—”

      “Lucas.”

      “Lucas. That just cinches it. I can’t—there’s no way I could—”

      “Damnit!”

      He was staring over her head. The expression on his face went from harsh to grave.

      Caroline stiffened. “What?” she said, and tried to look back, but his hand tightened on her shoulder.

      “No. Keep looking at me.”

      “But—”

      “It’s the Rostovs. The people we’re meeting. They’re coming toward us.”

      If he’d said Genghis Khan’s army was thundering out of the steppes at that moment, she couldn’t have felt a greater flash of terror.

      “This is not good, Mr. Vieira.”

      “For God’s sake, it’s Lucas. Lucas! Mistresses do not call their lovers by their surnames!”

      “But I’m not your mistress. I don’t want anyone to think I’m your mistress.” Caroline could hear the rising panic in her voice and she took a steadying breath. “I don’t believe in women being mistresses. In them being property. In being owned and supported and—and held as chattel by men, and—”

      “Luke-ahs!”

      A meaty hand slapped Lucas on the shoulder. The man that went with it was meaty, too. “Enormous” was a better word, Caroline thought. He had small eyes, a big nose and a grin that stretched from ear to ear.

      “Leo,” Lucas said. “It’s good to see you again.”

      Leo Rostov’s gaze slid to Caroline.

      “Ah. This is your voman.”

      “No,” Caroline said, “I’m—”

      “Yes,” Lucas said with a little chuckle that had no connection to the pressure of his fingers digging into her flesh as he slipped his arm around her waist and brought her to his side. “But she’s one of the ‘liberated’ women, Leo, if you know what I mean. She’ll bristle if you call her ‘my woman.’” He looked down at Caroline. “Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

      Was that a note of desperation in Lucas Vieira’s voice? A glint of it in his green eyes? Well, he’d got himself into this mess. How he’d done it was anyone’s guess but he could damned well get himself out of—

      “Luke-ahhhs!”

      A woman slipped from behind Rostov’s bulky figure. One look, and Caroline understood everything. Ilana Rostov was stunning. Big hair. Big breasts. Big diamonds.

      And from the way she looked at Lucas, she was, without question, a cougar on the hunt.

      “Luke-ahhhs, oh Luke-ahhhs, you darling man. How lovely to see you again.”

      “Ilana.” Lucas’s arm tightened around Caroline. “I’d like to introduce my—”

      “Howdoyoudo?” Ilana said, without taking her eyes from Lucas. Smiling, batting her lashes, she stepped in front of him, her face upturned, her breasts touching his chest. “A kiss, darling. You know that is how we Russians greet old friends.” Smiling, she rose on her toes and wound her arms around his neck. Lucas jerked back but it didn’t matter. Nothing was going to stop her.

      Not true, Caroline thought. Something could, and would. Her spiked gold heel, nailing Ilana Rostov’s instep.

      Ilana shrieked and stumbled back. Caroline threw her a look of abject innocence.

      “My goodness, did I step on your foot? I am so sorry!” Swinging toward Lucas, taking the place Ilana Rostov had vacated, Caroline looked up at him. The expression on his face was priceless; it took all her effort not to burst into giggles, but why spoil things now? “Lucas? Sweetie? I’m thrilled to meet your friends but what about dinner?” Still smiling, she moved closer, until they were a breath apart. “I’m absolutely starved, darling.”

      She watched the swift play of emotions across his face as surprise gave way to sheer delight—and then to something darker, deeper, and far more dangerous. His arms went around her. She spread her hands flat against his chest, felt the strong, steady beat of his heart.

      “Yes,” he said. “So am I.”

      No way was he talking about a meal.