The Rich Man's Blackmailed Mistress. Robyn Donald

me get you a drink and something to eat.’

      Kain looked around the room; within seconds a waiter materialised with a salver of champagne, followed immediately by another carrying a tray of delicious titbits.

      Made even crosser by this indication of Kain’s innate presence, Sable decided to assert herself. ‘Do have some champagne. And if you like mushrooms, I can heartily recommend those stuffed ones.’

      He said, ‘Thank you,’ and managed the acceptance of glass and mushroom with deftness. ‘How about you? Your glass is almost empty.’

      Her father’s addiction had made Sable wary; she rarely drank more than one glass of wine. With a quick smile she said to the waiter, ‘Nothing, thank you.’

      But the wretched man glanced at Kain, waiting for his short nod before moving away. Amused but resigned, she accepted that any good waiter would recognise an alpha male when he saw one!

      And Kain was certainly a number one alpha.

      ‘How nice that you came,’ she said brightly. ‘Have you spoken to Mark—Mark Russell?’

      ‘I came to see you.’

      Startled, she looked up. Although a smile curved that sculpted mouth, his pale eyes were burnished and unreadable. ‘Why?’ she asked bluntly.

      ‘Do you want it spelt out?’ he asked softly, his narrowed eyes holding hers.

      Heat flared in the pit of her stomach when he finished, ‘Not here, I think. How much longer before you can get away?’

      Many of the guests had already left, but quite a few were still busily networking. Excitement pulsing hotly through her, Sable tried and failed to catch Mark’s eye. ‘I don’t—not until everyone’s left.’

      She sounded like a wimp, she thought despairingly, not a sophisticated woman who knew how to deal with men of his sort.

      Except that she’d never come across another man with Kain’s particular combination of powerful personality and spectacular good looks.

      ‘I’m sure we can arrange something.’ Coolly he took her elbow and she found herself being shepherded across the room to where Mark stood talking to one of the artists.

      ‘Hey,’ she said, shaking off her unnatural obedience. ‘What are you doing?’

      ‘Saying thank you and goodbye.’ Kain’s voice was implacable, but he gave her a narrow smile that somehow invited complicity. ‘I have excellent manners,’ he told her serenely.

      Amusement bubbled up. ‘Oh, really?’ she parried, adding on a challenging note, ‘Dragging women around by the arm isn’t polite in any etiquette book I’ve ever read.’

      He grinned. Her stomach lurched, and to her chagrin she felt tingles of sensation scud down her spine, ending up as smouldering heat in the pit of her stomach.

      ‘Sometimes brute force is the only way to get what you want,’ he said, and nodded at Mark Russell.

      Mark had already seen them coming towards him, his smile broadening when he recognised Kain.

      What followed was a comedy, Sable thought, one in which she didn’t know her part.

      Kain said easily, ‘Hello, Mark. I’m just about to snaffle Sable.’

      Was that what he’d meant when he referred to brute force? It was about as subtle as a sledgehammer!

      She said stiffly, ‘I don’t think you understand, Kain. I organised this evening—I don’t intend to leave until it’s over.’

      The two men with her exchanged looks. Without missing a beat, Mark said, ‘And you’ve done it brilliantly, but everyone’s going now, and if anything comes up I’ll deal with it. Kain, have you met Tonia Guthrie?’

      The artist, a thin, middle-aged woman with a narrow face and a furrowed forehead, looked irritated, but within a few seconds Kain’s unforced magnetism had won her over so completely that she blurted, ‘You know, I’m wishing I still did figure work! Have you ever posed? That superb bone structure would make for a magnificent portrait.’

      He smiled. ‘No, and I’m afraid I have no interest in having my portrait painted, but I think that’s the nicest compliment I’ve ever had.’

      The woman coloured, then laughed with him, clearly forgiving him for interrupting her talk with Mark.

      Mark smiled benignly at them both. ‘Great to see you here, Kain. Are we going to have your company at the auction?’

      ‘I’m not sure, but there’s always a chance.’

      ‘I hope you can make it. Goodnight, Sable. And take tomorrow morning off—you’ve done a great job here, and you deserve it.’

      ‘Thank you,’ Sable said stiffly, furious with him for having his eyes fixed so firmly on the chance that Kain might buy one of the pictures that he’d sacrifice her.

      Her thoughts were reinforced as they walked out to the door.

      Kain said, ‘Stop steaming, Sable. Your boss sees a mark and naturally he wants to cement some sort of interest. He might run a charitable foundation, but it’s business and he needs the money to spend on the poor and voiceless.’

      Instantly she flared into defence of her boss. ‘It’s very worthwhile—’

      ‘Of course it is.’ He looked down at her. ‘And he’s a damned good hustler.’

      Outside in the sultry heat of an Auckland summer night, Sable ignored his words to say crisply, ‘Tell me what this is all about, please. Is Brent all right?’

      ‘Relax. Knowing Brent, he’ll be enjoying himself very much. I don’t know about you, but I haven’t eaten for about nine hours. Come and have dinner with me.’

      As though in answer her stomach chose just that moment to remind her uncomfortably that she’d only managed to snatch a handful of blueberries for her lunch.

      His lips twitched. ‘I suspected as much. There was something in the way you recommended those mushrooms that indicated a hollow inside you. I live by the Viaduct in a block with an excellent restaurant. Afterwards I’ll take you home—or if it suits you better I’ll order a taxi for you.’

      Several more guests walked past them, their nods and smiles failing entirely to hide keen interest.

      Sable hesitated, then mentally shrugged and gave in to curiosity. In spite of that urgent warning whisper from some primal instinct, eating dinner with him in a restaurant wouldn’t put her in any sort of danger. ‘Thank you—I am hungry.’

      His apartment was in an art deco building that had once been a department store. Overlooking the harbour bridge and the Viaduct basin area with its waterfront restaurants and vibrant nightlife, the store had been rejuvenated with taste and flair—and a lot of money.

      Kain indicated a bank of lifts, so the restaurant was upstairs, presumably to take advantage of the view. Sable noted the clever homage to the building’s age, and more period details graced the foyer once they reached their destination. Eyeing a splendid bronze nymph carrying a torch, she repressed a grin. Tonight’s featured artists would undoubtedly despise it, she thought cheerfully.

      A niggle of apprehension made her tense when Kain took her arm and led her into a room—a large, superbly decorated living room.

      After a swift, incredulous glance around she swung away from him, her face cold and still. ‘This is your apartment,’ she said icily, heading for the door.

      He caught her arm, his fingers gripping just enough to stop her without bruising. ‘Don’t be so skittish. We need privacy.’

      ‘You might—I don’t,’ she shot back, anger sharpening her voice. ‘Let me go right now.’

      ‘Not until you’ve heard what I have to say.’