Mistress: At What Price? by Anne Oliver Page B

her ear to inhale deeper.
    â€˜Dane…’
    He thought she whispered his name. Like a sigh. But he couldn’t be sure over the sound of the music. Did she make that soft sensuous sound when she made love? he wondered.
    He could find out tonight.
    Her cheek against his felt cool and soft, and his lips tingled as he turned his head slightly to taste.
    He couldn’t resist—he traced the graceful curve of her spine, down to where it arched against him. ‘You were right. This is an excellent choice of gown,’ he murmured.
    â€˜ I thought so,’ she murmured back, and he felt her cheek bunch against his as she smiled.
    The music faded, or perhaps he just stopped hearing it. With his hand still on her back he pulled her closer, so that their bodies touched, breast to chest, thigh to thigh. She melted against him like butter on hot toast.
    His body tightened, his pulse thrummed. He wanted to stay just this way, locked in this embrace, until the room was empty and they were alone.
    But he was the host, and if he didn’t pull away now he’d be an embarrassment to both of them.
    He drew back and looked at her. Dark, dark eyes. Full lush lips that begged to be kissed. The pulse-point in her neck beat frantically, matching his own. ‘I think that convinced them,’ he muttered, a rueful smile pulling at his lips. ‘It damn well convinced me.’
    Her small smile took a while coming. ‘Me, too.’
    He escorted her back to their table, and then to give himself a moment to cool down excused himself and headed for the men’s room. On his way back he saw his father, sitting alone on a sofa outside the ballroom.
    He rose slowly as Dane approached, looking older than the last time he’d seen him a few months ago in the solicitor’s office.
    When Dane had purchased the family home so that his father could continue living there.
    â€˜Can we have a quiet word?’ his father asked.
    â€˜What’s on your mind?’
    â€˜I just wanted to tell you you’ve done a magnificent job here tonight. Thank you for inviting me and Barb to be a part of it.’
    â€˜You’re welcome.’ Dane’s voice sounded brittle to his own ears. When his father didn’t speak he asked, ‘Was there something else?’
    â€˜Yes. There is,’ he said slowly. ‘And it’s been a longtime coming. I haven’t got many years left, and I’ve taken a good look at myself lately.’ He glanced down at his feet, then looked up at Dane. ‘It would have been easier to decline your invitation. Son.’ He paused. ‘Maybe we could let bygones be bygones and move on?’
    Son. Dane wrestled with his emotions. It was the first time he could remember hearing his father acknowledge him as such. All those years when he’d wished his dad would toss him one crumb of affection. Dane had never wanted for money, privilege, social standing, but he’d have given it all away for family.
    â€˜Why now, Dad? Because I saved your ass? And you know that in the end I’m the only one who gives a damn? We both know Barbara’s not going to stick around. I told her about the sale, Dad. It’s time she knew.’
    His father didn’t answer. Just continued to watch him with tired eyes.
    Despite all that had happened, deep down where it was only him and his maker, Dane yearned for the connection. But the past pain and the fear—yes, fear , dammit—of being hurt again was an impenetrable wall. Instead, he blocked all emotion and said, ‘We’ve never been big on family; you’re just getting sentimental in your old age.’ He jutted his chin towards the woman he’d just noticed standing like an ice statue at the bottom of the marble staircase. ‘Barbara’s waiting.’
    His father searched in his pocket for a handkerchief, then mopped his face. ‘I’ll be going, then. Goodnight.’ He turned and began