The Billionaire's Virgin Mistress. Sandra Field

his gaze above the level of her breasts—which were exquisitely shaped—Cade opened the door of the refrigerator, took out a beer and uncapped it. Taking a long draught, he said, “Hospital food has to be the worst in the nation and their tap water tastes like pure chlorine.”

      He’d dropped onto a stool by the counter and was loosening the collar of his shirt. He looked tired, she thought reluctantly, watching the muscles in his throat move as he swallowed.

      His body hair was a dark tangle at the neckline of his shirt; the thin cotton clung to the breadth of his shoulders. As he rolled up his sleeves, corded muscles moved smoothly under his skin. Moved erotically, Tess thought, and buried her nose in her mug. What was wrong with her? She never noticed the way a man moved.

      The silence had stretched on too long. She said politely, “Is it still raining?”

      “Supposed to stop tomorrow morning.” He took another gulp of beer. “What did you do all day?”

      “Read in the library.”

      “Right up your alley,” he said with a faint smile.

      One smile. That was all. No reason for her to feel as though he’d given her the sun, the moon and the stars. The man had charm to burn, she thought crossly; but she’d always considered charm a slippery attribute at best. Picking up her mug to drain the last of the hot chocolate from it, she said tautly, “If you’re not able to drive me home tomorrow morning, I’m sure there’s a chauffeur hidden away in this barn of a house. I’ll get him to drive me…good night.”

      “Wait a minute!”

      Furious, she glanced down. His fingers—those elegant fingers—were clamped around her left wrist. “Let go,” she flared. “I’m not in the mood for macho.”

      “Del won’t be home until the afternoon, and he wants to meet you—so you can’t go back before that. And when you meet him, don’t say or do anything to upset him. He’s to be kept quiet for the next while, and he’s not supposed to worry about anything.”

      “You told him I was here? That I’d meet him?” she said, her voice rising.

      “Of course I did. Why else are you here?”

      “How was I supposed to leave? I don’t have a car, there’s no bus to Malagash Island and I don’t like hitchhiking in a downpour.”

      Cade stood up, still clasping her wrist. “You’ll meet him, Tess. You don’t have to throw your arms around him. But, by God, you’ll be polite.”

      “Is this your CEO act?” she snapped. “Well, whoop-de-doo.”

      Her eyes were like green fire. Not stopping to think, Cade dropped his head and kissed her, hard and fast and with all the pent-up emotion of the last two days. Then he stepped back, his heart juddering in his chest. “I’ve been wanting to do that ever since I saw you jogging on the beach,” he snarled. “You be around when Del comes home, and watch what you say. If you’re half the person the islanders say you are, you wouldn’t want an old man’s death on your conscience.”

      His kiss, so unexpected, so forceful, had seared through her like a bolt of lightning. Her adrenaline sky-high, any caution lost in rage, Tess wrenched her wrist free and blazed, “You’re the one who brought me here—what about your conscience?”

      “My conscience is my concern. Just behave yourself tomorrow.”

      “Don’t tell me how to behave—I’m twenty-two, not ten,” Tess retorted, itching to throw her empty mug in his face. Banging it on the counter instead, she pivoted to leave the room.

      Like a steel clamp, Cade’s hand closed around her shoulder. “I’m not only telling you how to behave, I expect to be obeyed. Have you got that straight?”

      “I’m not an employee you can fire when the whim takes you!”

      “No,” he said in a voice like ice, “you’re Del’s granddaughter.” Then, with a deliberation that was subtly insulting, he released her and stepped back.

      Was she really related to the old man she’d seen in the hospital? Or was this whole setup as unreliable as a bad dream? Unable to think of a thing to say, as furious with herself as she was with Cade, Tess marched out of the room with as much dignity as she could muster. As she raced up the back stairs, she realized she was scrubbing at her mouth, doing her best to erase a kiss that had been shattering in its heat, its anger and its imperious demands.

      No wonder words had deserted her. No wonder she was on the run.

      Once again, she locked her bedroom door.