More than a Mistress

"Nothing. What could they know, other than that?"

Her eyes narrowed. "Other than that I made a fool of myself, you mean?"

"No. Yes. Hell, Alex, you're the one who said it, not me!" Travis looked around. "Do we have to discuss this here? I mean, couldn't we pick someplace a little more, uh, more discreet?"

"I want an answer to my question first. What else did you tell all these people about me?" She took a deep breath. "Did you tell them what happened—what we did that night? What I—what I..."

"Dammit, Alex!" Travis grabbed her elbow and yanked her toward him, his face dark. "What kind of man do you think I am? No, I did not tell them what happened. I told you, I don't discuss my private life—"

"At work. Yes, so you said. So, how come everybody leered at me?"

"Lord!" Travis shoved his hand through his hair. "They didn't leer. They were just curious, that's all. You can hardly blame them. I mean, yeah, sure, they probably do remember that you, uh, that you made that bid at the auction. And now that they know we're dating..."

He knew he'd made a mistake as soon as the word left his mouth, but it was too late. Alex's lovely face went white.

"Dating," she said, very softly.

"Yeah." He cleared his throat. "Well, we are—kind of."

"Dating," she said again. "You and I are dating."

"Alex..."

She wrenched free of his hand, turned on her heel and marched away from him. Travis cursed and went after her, but he got caught up in a crowd at the exit door. By the time he reached the street, she was gone, but where?

He had no idea.

He drove to Malibu. She wasn't there. He drove to Thorpe House. She wasn't there, either. By ten that night, he'd put what seemed like a million miles on the car but he still hadn't found her.

He was furious and worried. Mostly furious—okay, mostly worried. Where could she have gone? And what was she so angry about, anyway? Travis sat on the deck of his beach house, the phone, a glass, and a half-empty bottle of good California Merlot on the table beside him, and glared out at the sea.

What did women want from men besides the chance to drive them nuts?

"What was I supposed to do?" he demanded of the night. "She was mad because I'd never introduced her to anybody at my office. And then, when I did, she got mad because they figured out how we'd met."

Travis poured more wine into his glass and drank it.

Women were crazy. There was no pleasing them. He'd asked Alex to move in with him. Wasn't that enough? He'd never asked a woman to live with him before, never. Not before his marriage, certainly not after.

"Dammit," he growled, picked up the phone and hit the speed-dial button for Slade's Boston number.

Slade answered on the first ring. "Hello," he snarled, "and whoever this is, I'll tell you right now, I'm not in the mood for chitchat."

"Well, neither am I," Travis snarled back.

"Trav?" Slade's voice softened a little. "Hey, man. How'd you know I needed to—"

"Tell me something," Travis said. "What the hell is the matter with the female of the species?"

Slade gave a choked laugh. "The fact that they are female. That's what's the matter with them!"

"Yeah." Travis stood up and walked down the wooden steps to the sandy beach. "There's this woman." "There always is."

"I asked her to move in with me."

"You what? Listen, man, before you do anything serious, stop and think."

"It isn't serious. I mean, okay, it's serious now. But it won't be serious forever. We have an understanding. We stay together, no strings, no commitments—" Travis took the phone from his ear and glared at it. "Damn you, kid, stop laughing!"

"They all want commitments," Slade said, and then he cleared his throat. "At least, they want them when they want them, not when you get around to making them."

Travis frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"Nothing, man, nothing at all. Look, about this babe—"

"She's not a`babe,"' Travis said coldly. "Her name is Alexandra."

"Alexandra, huh? Pretty classy name for a... Wait a second. The babe—the woman who bought you at that auction. Wasn't her name—"

"What if it was?"

"Hey, there's no need to get defensive. I'm just surprised, that's all. I mean, the lady bought you for hot times—"

"Watch how you talk about her, Slade."

Slade sighed. "Listen, man, all I'm saying is that it's, uh, sort of unusual that she's become your mistress."

"She's not my mistress."