The Mistresses Collection. Оливия Гейтс

tee, of course, but with jeans this time.

      There was a fact box about his family—the wealth, the travel bug they all had—briefly profiling his two brothers as well, labelling the three ‘the Wolves of Manhattan’. Then the main thrust of the article caught her attention. A tabloid piece from a gossip site, the main ‘source’ was a woman who couldn’t contain her enthusiasm for James.

      My Night With The Scarred Hero.

      ...He’s as generous in bed as he is in his rescue missions. A strong, loving partner who gives a woman his all... He’s so fit I could hardly keep up. He had me seven times in the one night, I’ve never known a man to have such stamina. He didn’t seem to want to sleep at all...

      Oh my. Caitlin looked up to gauge his reaction.

      ‘It’s embarrassing,’ he muttered. ‘Fiction.’

      Determined to stifle her smile, she tapped her fingers on the edge of the iPad and surveyed him. ‘So she’s making up how great you are in bed?’

      ‘Well...’ He laughed uneasily. ‘It’s just not something you want to see in print, you know.’

      ‘Some guys would love that.’ Most guys she could think of, in fact.

      ‘I’m not some guy.’ He frowned and then sighed. ‘I was already...popular, if you like. I come from a wealthy family. I’ve got all my limbs...’

      And he was so hot it was unreal. Plus he was clever, and a good conversationalist. He knew how to look at a woman. Then there was that edge. She’d seen it that first night, caught glimpses of it since. The dangerous glint, the possibility of strength, determination—he was capable of taking charge. Control.

      Heat washed over her. Inappropriate, devastating heat.

      ‘Then with that picture. The rescue work...’ He tailed off.

      ‘You became a hero,’ she finished, licking her lips to ease their dryness. ‘Even more wanted.’

      He nodded reluctantly, slowly. ‘And then that woman—’

      ‘Sold her story and the hot lover legend was born.’

      He put his head in his hands and groaned.

      Hard as she tried Caitlin couldn’t quite feel sorry for him. Hard as she tried she couldn’t stop her own arousal either. Seven times?

      ‘Are you afraid you can’t live up to it?’ she provoked, forcing herself to laugh and keep it light. ‘Don’t worry, everyone knows all the stuff in the papers is made up. We all know the “seven times in one night” was a massive exaggeration.’

      He glanced up, his expression smouldering. ‘I just don’t want any more stories in the papers.’

      ‘So you don’t trust anyone.’ She got it now.

      ‘Not one-night stands.’

      ‘And you’re not in town long enough to start a relationship.’ She tried to slow her zinging pulse. He must be lonely. Must be hungry for it. ‘Isn’t there anyone in your team?’ she asked. ‘In the paramedic, disaster community?’

      ‘No.’ He shook his head, the heat in his eyes igniting. ‘I really don’t need you to be match-maker for me.’

      ‘I’m not. I’m just analysing.’ She flicked her tongue over her desert dry lips again. ‘No wonder you couldn’t resist kissing me. How long has it been?’ She glanced at the date of the article again. ‘Ten months?’

      For a vital, virile man like him that must feel like for ever.

      He stepped nearer as his voice came softer. ‘That wasn’t why I kissed you.’

      ‘No?’ She couldn’t move. ‘Why did you?’

      ‘I wanted to. I want you.’

      Heat burst in a fireball in her belly. ‘You stopped,’ she accused.

      ‘Because it was the right thing to do at the time.’

      ‘And you always do the right thing.’ She remembered from earlier. ‘Or you try to. Why do you try so hard?’

      He didn’t answer. Instead, with his gaze firmly locked on hers, he tugged the iPad from her fingers. ‘What’s good for the gander...’ He trailed off.

      ‘Don’t,’ she whispered. All sensual heat evaporated, leaving her cold, empty. Afraid.

      ‘You might have gone off the rails when you were a teen soap star, but that was years ago,’ he pointed out bluntly. ‘That’s not why you’re here now. There’s something else, right? Something more.’

      She always wants Moore.

      ‘Please don’t,’ she asked again.

      ‘It’s that bad?’

      ‘Worse.’

      ‘Like I can’t look now,’ he said wryly, tapping her name into the search engine.

      Caitlin closed her eyes and silence commanded the room.

      James looked at the massive number of hits. Most of them were UK based websites. There was a heap of images from years ago. And then some more recent. Much more recent. An online version of a UK tabloid had a number of recent articles. None of the headlines were good—Could she be any Moore crazy? ; She always wants Moore ; Stop stalking me, I can’t take any Moore!

      He clicked on the last. Skimmed the article then scrolled down to the comments. Unadulterated vitriol. And there’d be far worse on those unmoderated sites.

      ‘They always like to find the ugliest pictures they can.’ She spoke in a very small voice.

      True. The accompanying picture didn’t do her justice. How the hell they’d snapped her like that he didn’t know. She was beautiful in real life. Elfin, ethereal—seemingly incapable of looking or acting the outright bitch this article claimed she was.

      She’d gotten involved with an actor. Dominic. They’d dated for the best part of a year—she’d been studying. He’d been growing in popularity. Publicity.

      He’d ended it. She’d taken it badly. Turned stalker—especially when Dominic began a new relationship right away with another woman. An actress.

      According to this, Caitlin had told him she was pregnant. Tried to emotionally blackmail him back to her. Then, when things didn’t go the way she wanted, when he didn’t return to her, she’d aborted the baby. And in the court of public opinion, she’d been crucified.

      James looked at her, needing to read her expression. To ask for her truth. What he saw pulled his chest tight.

      She’d had a shiny inner glow when she’d first woken this morning, a teasing light and a definite bite. Now she’d paled. The spark in her eyes, her speech, her spirit—snuffed. He wanted it back. It was what he liked most about her.

      ‘I hadn’t been in the papers for years,’ she said. ‘And now it’s not just the newspapers, is it? It’s the Internet and Twitter and all those blogs with anonymous people who love to spout hate. They pulled up everything from the past. It’s so much worse than it ever was. I thought I could handle it. I could back then. But now I can’t. Now I...’ Her voice trailed off.

      ‘Is it true?’ he asked quietly.

      ‘Is what true?’ she answered, some spirit returning. ‘All of it? Part of it?’ She lifted her shoulders. ‘What does it matter what I answer?’ She shook her head. ‘Will you be able to believe me? Really believe me?’

      ‘I have no reason not to.’

      She tensed. ‘Yet the first night we met you were thinking all kinds of charming things about me.’

      ‘I was tired and...really tired. I wasn’t in the best headspace. It wasn’t you making