The Once-a-Mistress Wife
Katherine Garbera

MILLS & BOON

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This book is dedicated to the ladies of Nation Drive—

Kim, Michele and Kathy—who’ve made me feel

welcome and at home in Texas.

Contents

Acknowledgments

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Coming Next Month

Special thanks and acknowledgment are given to

Katherine Garbera for her contribution to the

SECRET LIVES OF SOCIETY WIVES miniseries.

Acknowledgments:

Thanks to the other Society Wives ladies

who made working on this book such a pleasure…

Maureen, Metsy, Pat, Alison and Bronwyn.

Also a special thanks to Wanda Ottewell and

Melissa Jeglinski, for asking me to participate

in this fun series!

One

Mary Duvall stood over the open casket of her grandfather, David Duvall. Tears burned the back of her eyes, but she kept them in check, very conscious that Grandfather David had always wanted her to be composed in public. That’s why she’d closed the doors to the viewing room and entered it alone.

The old Mary would have wept loudly and cried her grief with sobs and moans, doing everything in her power to get those emotions out. But now she buttoned them down. Ignored everything but the need to touch his face one last time.

She touched his cold, makeup-covered skin and shivered inside. She felt so alone. She was all alone now. Her parents had died years ago in a car accident—not that they’d ever been close. And her younger brother, their perfect child, had been in the car with them—also gone.

She liked the new life she was carving for herself in Eastwick, Connecticut, at her grandfather’s behest. She’d returned from Paris when she’d learned his health was failing. He’d offered to make her his heir if she proved she was no longer the rebellious wild child he remembered.

“I’m going to make you proud, Grandfather. No more embarrassment over my behavior.”

She leaned down, brushing her lips over his dry forehead and wishing for just one second that he could embrace her. Her childhood had been difficult to say the least and Grandfather David had been as disapproving as everyone else in the Duvall clan, but he’d always hugged her as she left.

He was the only one to ever do anything like that. She would miss him more than she’d realized.

A knock on the door interrupted her farewell.

She glanced at her watch. Damn, it was almost time for the public viewing. No doubt her cousins would be outside demanding some private time with a man they cared about only for his money.

Mary wanted to use the Duvall estate to benefit others. She intended to establish a trust that would be used to create neonatal units at hospitals in lower-income areas. She also hoped to sponsor an art-focused summer camp for underprivileged children. She had never been encouraged to paint as a child, even though her earliest memories were of having a paintbrush in her hand. She loved to create new worlds on canvas.

Her work was garnering attention in Europe and she enjoyed the money she’d made selling the serial rights to several of her pieces for a print series.

But for now, she had the viewing to get through. Before opening the door, she tucked the short note she’d written last night into the breast pocket of his suit, under his handkerchief, right over his heart.

Then she wiped the moisture from beneath her eyes and confronted her second cousins. Channing and Lorette Moorehead were the children of her grandfather’s sister.

“How touching. I almost believe you cared for the old man,” Channing said, escorting his sister Lorette to the casket.

“I did care for him,” Mary said.

“Then why did you spend so many years breaking his heart?” Lorette asked.

Mary swallowed hard, biting back a retort that wouldn’t be ladylike. Wouldn’t fit the image that Grandfather wanted her to portray.

“We made our peace, Grandfather and I.”

“You may have fooled Uncle David, but we aren’t convinced you’ve changed. I will be keeping an eye on you,” Channing said.

He was almost ten years older than she was, and from her earliest memories he’d always been a pompous ass. She had no fondness for Channing, but Lorette, who was only two years older than Mary, had been a close friend when they were younger. They’d roamed all over Grandfather’s mansion playing games and getting into trouble. It had all ended when Lorette had turned ten and declared herself too old for childish pursuits.

“I’ll leave you two to your private grieving.”

The anteroom was almost empty except for a few of her friends. Their long history and regular luncheons had garnered them the name the Debs Club.

Everyone in their group seemed to be getting engaged or married; something Mary had no desire to do herself. She’d been deeply in love with a man once, and when he’d left her to marry the “right” kind of woman, she’d promised herself she’d never live with that kind of pain again.

Yet another example of how her wild lifestyle—which wasn’t really that wild—had resulted in her being alone. The problem was that for most of her life Mary had never wanted to follow the rules. Almost in contradiction to the plain name—and possibly plain aspirations—her parents had given her at birth, Mary had come out of the womb a rebel.

But not any longer. She’d paid a high price for her rebelliousness, and her deathbed promise to Grandfather David meant she’d toe the line from now on.

Mary started toward her friends. They all wore black for mourning, and Mary appreciated having them here. Maybe she wasn’t completely alone. She did have her friends, and they’d proven to be a solid support to her in a way that she’d never experienced before.

The outer door opened before she reached her friends, and she turned to greet the newcomer. The blood rushed to her head and she heard the pounding of her own heartbeat in her ears as she recognized the one man she’d never thought to see again.

Kane Brentwood—English lord and her ex-lover.

“Kane?”

“Mary,” he said. Just her name in that deep voice of his never failed to send shivers coursing through her body.

She couldn’t face him now. Not today, when she was struggling to keep her composure carefully in place. Not when she was so close to losing it.

At the sight of him, she was overwhelmed with the weight of the secrets between them. Secrets that, if revealed, would cost her everything—Grandfather’s inheritance, Kane’s respect and her own hard-won peace.

She tried to regain her composure, but she saw stars dancing in front of her eyes as he approached her. And then everything went black.

Kane Brentwood caught Mary just before she hit the floor. He was aware of the murmuring of voices behind him, but he didn’t pay attention to anyone save the woman in his arms. His woman. She hadn’t been taking very good care of herself. She’d lost weight and her skin was pale. He wondered if she’d mended bridges with her grandfather and what that had cost her.

He cupped her face. “Mary.”

Her eyes blinked open, and he stared into that familiar Caribbean-blue color, reminding him of the month they’d spent at his vacation home in the British Virgin Islands. “Mary-Belle, are you okay?”

“Kane?”

“Yes, darling.”

As she looked up at him, confusion knitted her brow. “I’m not your darling anymore.”

A spear of anger went through him and he had to tamp down on his instinctive response, which was to take her in his arms and prove that she was still his. To prove that Mary would react to him the way she had from the first moment they met. But she was a married woman now, and he knew the way she felt about married people and affairs.

“We can discuss that later,” he said.

A spark lit her eyes, the kind that in the past had always led to a spirited argument and then eventually to the bedroom. “Will your wife take part in the discussion?”

“I’m divorced. And your husband?”

She flushed and shook her head. “No husband.”

No husband. She was free. He felt a surge of possessive determination. Now that he had her back in his arms, he wasn’t going to let her go again. He’d done his bit for family and lineage, and that had cost him—more than he ever wanted this woman to know. They were both available again, and he was suddenly determined not to screw up the way he had before. He would not lose her again.

“Mary? Are you okay?”

He glanced over his shoulder to see four women walking toward him with a group of men a few steps behind. He tightened his hold on Mary.

“I’m fine, Emma. I didn’t sleep well last night.”

He wondered how much of that was due to her child. He didn’t know much about the little blighters, but every book he’d read had said that they were time-consuming.

There were dark circles under her eyes, and he wished for a moment he still had the right to carry her out of this room, to find a private place. But he didn’t. He lowered her to the ground, deliberately torturing himself by allowing her body to rub against his.

There were too many people around to have the discussion they needed to have. And he wanted—no, needed—to simply hold this woman who looked too fragile.

She took a step away from him, but he held onto her wrist.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Claiming what is mine,” he said, stating the truth of why he was in Eastwick, especially now that he knew there was no husband. When he’d first read the announcement of David Duvall’s death in the Wall Street Journal, he’d barely taken note of the fact—until he’d seen Mary’s name listed as next of kin.

He’d been quietly searching for her for over a year now. His men hadn’t been able to find any trace of her at the Paris apartment building where he’d last known her to live.

“I’m not yours anymore,” she said again, tugging hard and pulling her hand away from him.

“Come with me,” he said.

“Why?”

“I want to speak to you,” he said, ignoring her friends.

“We are speaking, Mr. Brentwood.”

“Alone,” he said, using his hold on her waist to draw her closer to him. She had always had the ability to make him forget all rules of good breeding and react like a man. He felt the urge to do something horribly crass, such as toss her over his shoulder and carry her out of this room.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

He should never have put her on her feet. He should have kept her in his arms…where she belonged. “Don’t push me, Mary-Belle. I’m not in the mood for it.”

She stiffened at the nickname and gave him a hard glare. He lowered his head, brushing his lips against hers. A surge of arousal shot through his body as her mouth opened under his—the same way it always had. He slipped his tongue between her lips, hungry for her taste. It had been too damned long since he’d sated himself on Mary.

Someone cleared their throat, and Mary pulled away from him. Kane kept his hand on her waist and gave the man who was glaring at them a withering stare.

“Who is this?” the man asked. He had thinning hair and a pinched expression on his face. He looked at Mary with ill-disguised loathing, and Kane pulled her more fully against his side, under his shoulder. Offering her his protection.

She elbowed him in the ribs, and he frowned at her but did not release her. Mary had always been so ethereal, dancing in and out of his life in a way that made him suspect he’d never be able to hold her for long. He would not waste this opportunity.

“Channing, I’d like you to meet Kane Brentwood. We met when I was living in London. Kane, this is my cousin Channing Moorehead, and his sister Lorette.”

He shook hands with both of them. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“We were very close to Uncle David,” Lorette said. “We’ve always lived our lives in an exemplary manner…to show our respect for him.”

“We’re all impressed, Lorette,” Emma said with a touch of sarcasm.

Mary smiled gratefully at her friend, and Kane realized, with his usual sense of great timing where Mary was concerned, he’d bungled into a moment where he shouldn’t have. There was a real tension between Mary and her cousins—something not unlike the tension between him and his family.

Lorette turned toward Emma to say something and Mary quietly withdrew, stepping away from the others in the anteroom. The behavior was so unlike the Mary he’d known, but grief did make people vulnerable.

He cupped her elbow and drew her farther away from the others. “What’s their problem?”

“Don’t worry about it, Kane. It has nothing to do with you.”

“I’m not so sure you’re right, Mary-Belle. I’m not going to simply walk now that I know we’re both free.”

“I’m a different woman now, Kane. I have an image to uphold,” she said, glancing over her shoulder to make sure that no one was near. “One that makes it impossible to be your mistress.”

“What image? I saw your work in a London gallery last spring. Your canvases were always remarkable, but there is something…breathtaking about these new ones.”

“Thank you, Kane. But it’s not my image as an artist that I’m concerned with. No one here knows anything about that part of my life.”

Kane couldn’t believe that she’d keep something that was such an integral part of who she was a secret. Mary had lived and breathed painting the entire time they’d been together—almost ten years. He’d had to resort to being her model a time or two to get her attention.

“What image are you concerned with, darling? That of being a mother?”

“No. My child was stillborn,” she said softly, and he felt the pain in her words. He wanted to comfort her, but she shook her head.

“I was speaking of the Duvall family image. I came home to claim my heritage, Kane. A heritage that isn’t as old as yours but is every bit as stringent. I have to go now. Thanks for coming.”

He nodded and let her walk away. He wasn’t sure what to make of the new Mary or her words. But one thing was very certain—now that he’d found her, he wasn’t leaving Eastwick without laying a claim on her. The kind of claim he should have made when they’d first met, instead of letting his own arrogance force them into roles from which there was no escape.

The funeral wasn’t long but went by very slowly for Mary. Afterward, everyone came to the Duvall mansion for the wake. In the midst of the crowd and condolences, Mary retreated to Grandfather David’s study for a few moments of solitude. She sat in his big leather chair that smelled faintly of the tobacco he’d always smoked. She inhaled deeply, wrapping her senses in her grandfather’s memory.

There was a knock on the door, and Mary knew the interruption signaled she’d been gone from the wake long enough. She answered the summons to find Emma, Caroline and Lily standing there.

“We thought we’d find you hiding out,” Emma said, closing the door firmly once they were all inside.

“I’m not hiding,” Mary said. Though she suspected her friends knew that she was lying, they’d never call her on it. And she needed time away from the pressure of making nice to all those people. After she was forced to be her society self for too long, she felt an itching deep inside to do something bold and crazy. To shake things up. She had no idea how her friends could survive the daily grind that was society life.

“Not even from Channing? God, that man is an ass,” Caroline said.

“Maybe. Is he looking for me? Is that why you came to find me?” Mary asked.

“No Felicity and Vanessa are running interference with Channing, and Abby cornered Lorette. We’re here to find out more about that dreamy man with the British accent.”

The last thing she wanted to talk about was Kane. She didn’t even know where to begin or what to say to her good friends. “That couldn’t wait until the next Debs lunch?”

“Who knows when we’ll have time for the next one with everyone getting engaged and planning weddings,” Caroline said, her eyes glittering with that effervescent joy she brought to everything.

“There’s really not much to tell. I met him when I was in London.”

“When?” Emma asked.

“My second week there. I was working in Harrods,” Mary said. She remembered the way he’d stopped at the display of women’s scarves and lingered for almost thirty minutes, never once pretending he was going to buy one but just flirting with her.

“And that’s it?” Caroline’s voice held a disbelieving tone. “That was ten years ago. The man today looked like he was more to you than a customer.”

“He was. We had an…affair,” Mary said because she thought her friends would understand that better than knowing that she’d lived in an apartment he’d paid for and that she’d made herself available to him whenever he’d wanted her. She’d been a kept woman.

“I knew there was more between you,” Lily said. “There was something about he way he looked at you. And that kiss…”

Mary’s lips still tingled, but she was trying very hard to forget that. To forget everything about Kane except the fact that he was no longer a part of her life.

“I haven’t seen him in almost three years.” To be honest, she didn’t want to remember the last time she’d seen Kane.

She’d been so hurt and angry that she’d said something she never should have. When she’d returned to Eastwick, Grandfather had said that her behavior had caused pain to others and herself, and she’d immediately thought of Kane. If she’d had the comportment then that she had now, maybe things would have turned out differently and she would still have her son…alive today.

“He definitely looked like a man who wanted to rekindle the relationship with you,” Caroline stated.

“I can’t. Not now. I have too much going on.”

“Sure you can,” Lily said. “You could at least explore the possibility.”

Mary shook her head. Kane wasn’t going to be a part of her life again. He was her weakness, and she knew if she allowed him back into her life, she’d have to face her past and the lies she once told. Lies that still haunted her.

Two

Kane was up early the next morning, jogging along the beach of Long Island Sound. He’d spent a restless night trying to come up with something he could use to force Mary back into his life. He knew that it was going to be hard to convince her, but he wasn’t a man who was used to failure.

He’d left the family import business when he’d had his marriage to Victoria annulled. His relatives had been appalled that he hadn’t done his duty and stayed married to the woman, even though their marriage had been strained from the beginning. At his family’s response, Kane had realized that he meant nothing more to them than his role as heir. He’d taken that opportunity to make a complete break with them.

He’d been living in Manhattan for the last year and a half, where he’d taken a small investment firm and turned it into one of the up-and-comers in the financial world.

He glanced at the horizon, gauging how much farther he’d run before turning back, when he spotted a familiar figure—Mary. She was sitting on the sand and staring out at the ocean. He slowed his pace to a walk to get his breathing under control before he got to her.

“Good morning, darling.”

“Morning, Kane,” she said, tipping her head back to look up at him. The sun left her face in shadows but brought out the warm highlights in her dark hair. Her locks whipped around her face in the breeze, and in that moment she strongly resembled the woman he’d once known. No longer buttoned-up and perfectly coiffed.

“What are you doing here?”

He put his hands on his hips, standing over her. “Jogging. I’m afraid I’m a bit sweaty. Do you mind if I join you?”

“Would it matter if I said yes?”

“It would.” He was a man used to having his way. Things happened for him because he refused to take no for an answer. But with Mary, this time he wanted to be more accommodating. If she didn’t want his company, he’d leave.

She rested her chin on her drawn–up knees, staring once again at the ocean and its endlessly cycling waves. “It’s a public beach, I can’t stop you from sitting.”

He dropped to his haunches in front her, his eyes meeting hers. “I’m not interested in the beach, Mary-Belle. I’m interested in your company.”

“Why? I thought we hashed this all out years ago,” she said, her hands going to her hair and trying to pull it out of her face.

“We didn’t,” he said, shifting to sink to the sand next to her.

She sighed and the wind carried the sound away from them. He wished that the breeze could as easily clear away their past, yet at the same time he wouldn’t give up those years they’d spent together for anything. Just the ending. If he could change the way things had ended he’d be a happier man.

“I can’t go back to what we once had,” she said.

“I’m not asking you to.” He couldn’t return either. He was no longer the man he’d been when he’d kept her as his mistress. Now he wanted…hell, he wasn’t sure what he wanted aside from Mary back in his bed.

“Oh, well, that’s—Why are you here, Kane?”

“Because you are.”

“Don’t say things like that.”

“Even if they are true?”

“Especially if they are true. My life is complicated now. I have family obligations.”

“To whom?”

“Grandfather’s estate.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. It was ironic that now that he was free of family responsibility, she wasn’t. “What kind of obligations?”

“It’s complicated. I want to use my inheritance to establish a foundation that will help lower-income families. I definitely want to create neonatal units for areas that can’t otherwise afford them. And I’d also like to sponsor art programs in schools. I was also thinking to use some property that Grandfather has near the Finger Lakes in New York for a summer camp.”

“That sounds ambitious. Where are you going to start?”

“I have no idea. I mean, I’m an artist, not a businessperson. Channing sits on the board of two foundations, so he knows how they operate, but I can’t bring myself to ask him to help.”

“Why not?”

“Because he and I don’t get along. He’s hoping I do something outrageous so the money will go to him and Lorette.”

“Your inheritance has stipulations?”

“More than you could imagine.”

“What kind?”

She made a face at him. “Let’s just say that I have to be a model of social behavior.”

“Not exactly the Mary I remember.”

She tipped her head to the side and gave him a genuine smile that affected his ability to breathe. He’d never forgotten how beautiful Mary was, but his attraction to her had been more than her physical appearance. It had been the zest she’d had for life. The way her laughter and smiles had filled the empty spaces in his life.

“Why are you staring at me, Kane?”

“Because I love your smile.”

“My smile?”

He traced his finger down the side of her face, cupping her jaw and rubbing his thumb over her lips. “It’s the first thing I noticed about you that day in Harrods.”

“My mouth?” she asked, licking her lips, and he almost groaned out loud.

“Yes. Your lips are perfect for kissing.”

She flushed a little, nibbling on her lower lip. “Yours are, too.”

“Men don’t have kissable lips.” No one had ever said the things to him that Mary did. She didn’t fear his reputation and wasn’t intimidated by his wealth and family connections. She’d always treated him as though he were just another guy. And part of him liked the fact that with Mary he could simply be himself.

“Well, you do. Or maybe it’s that you really know what you’re about when you kiss me.”

Her lips parted and her warm breath brushed over his fingers. He leaned down to capture her lips with his. At the contact, she sighed his name, opening her mouth for him. He moved to cradle her head between both of his hands.

He took his time with the kiss, relearning the taste of her and reacquainting her with his taste. He swept his tongue languidly into her mouth, pulling her more firmly into his arms and into his embrace. This was where she belonged.

Kane had always had the ability to transport her from the real world into one where only the two of them existed. In that world she’d do whatever he asked of her and never count the cost. But she couldn’t afford to be that cavalier. Not now.

She pulled away from him, easily reading the signs of arousal in the man who’d been her first and only lover.

“Why did you pull away from me?”

“I can’t be seen engaging in public displays of affection.”

“That suits me. Let’s go back to my hotel and engage in private displays of affection.”

She shook her head. “Not today. I’m meeting with Grandfather’s lawyer at ten. Then I’m interviewing financial planners to find someone to help me establish my trust.”

“Who are you meeting with?”

“Someone from Merrill Lynch and someone from A.G. Edwards. I got their names from the phone book,” she said. Truth was, she wasn’t good with money and she didn’t have any idea how to make her dream into reality.

“Would you consider letting me help you?”

Kane was brilliant with investments. He’d carefully invested the money he’d given her during their years together and turned it into a small fortune. She had used that money to support herself before returning to Eastwick. “Do you want to?”

“I wouldn’t have offered otherwise,” he said with a hint of a grin.

Her question had been inane. “You make it hard for me to think clearly.”

“That’s good to know.”

He stood, offering her his hand and tugging her to her feet. He linked their hands together and started leading her away from the shore, toward her home.

“Will you have breakfast with me?” he asked.

His thumb rubbed over the back of her knuckles, and tingles spread up her arm. Her nipples tightened in response to his touch and his mere proximity. She always reacted this way in his presence. If she had breakfast with him, she’d probably end up making love with him. “No.”

“Why not?” he asked, lifting her hand to his mouth and kissing the back of it.

She pulled her hand from his grasp. “I’m not getting involved with you again, Kane. Maybe you shouldn’t help me with my inheritance.”

“Why not? I’m probably more qualified than some stranger you rang up on the telephone.”

“I think working with you will complicate things.”

“Things? I’m not sure I understand.”

She wanted to punch him in the arm. He frustrated her sometimes and she knew he was doing it deliberately right now. She took a deep breath, remembered that she always had to appear composed.

“I really don’t want to give Channing or Lorette a reason to take me to court.”

He took her shoulder, pulling her toward his body, wrapping one arm around her waist. He tipped her head back with his other hand, forcing her to look up at him. “I’m not taking no for an answer. I’m back in your life, and we’ll take it slowly if that’s what you want, but there is no way I’m leaving you again.”

“Kane…don’t say things like that to me.”

“I mean them.”

She couldn’t reconcile what he was saying to what he’d said when they’d parted. His words still lingered in her mind, the emotional wounds he’d inflicted only half-healed.

“No, you don’t. You told me that I was never anything more to you than a mistress, and I believed you. We don’t have a great love affair to rekindle. Ours was a business-minded relationship. You paid for my living expenses and I took care of your sexual needs. That was it.”

He cursed under his breath but didn’t let go of her. “It was never a business arrangement. Passion like ours can’t be contained in something so tame.”

Passion…one of her downfalls, if her grandfather was to be believed. Passion had a place only at her easel, where she channeled all of her rebelliousness into her art.

“Passion isn’t part of my life now, Kane. You’d do well to remember that. I’m not the woman you knew. I’ve changed and I can’t go back.”

“How many times am I going to have to pay for making you my mistress?” he asked, his accent more clipped than normal. He sounded every inch the aristocrat when he talked that way.

“It’s not about making you pay. Please, Kane, you have to leave. Go back home and forget about me.”

“You may have changed, but I haven’t. I’m still a very determined man. And you know I always get what I want.”

“Do you have any idea how arrogant you sound?”

“Yes.”

That startled a laugh out of her. Kane was still a mix of contradictions. A perfect gentleman in public and a total hedonist in private. She was so tempted to wrap herself around him and let him take her back to those carefree days in London. But she knew that she couldn’t.

Something her grandfather had said when she’d returned to Eastwick forbade that. He’d said it was time to grow up and stop running from her responsibilities. He’d reminded her she was the last Duvall. The only one to carry the mantle of her family’s legacy.

“Arrogance isn’t going to help you this time,” she said, walking away from Kane.

“Yes, it is. You need me to set up this foundation of yours. It’s the least I can do for an old friend.”

Friend. She didn’t know that they’d ever been friends. Friends shared things that she and Kane never had. They’d both played roles and lived in a world of their own making.

“Are you going to deny we were friends?” She heard the challenge in his voice.

“I’m not sure. But I will accept your offer of help. I know you’re good with investments and I need someone I can trust.”

Mary had a pounding headache after spending three hours in a conference room with her grandfather’s attorney, Max Previn, and Channing. Max was a kind, older gentleman who had tried to smooth over the animosity that Channing had brought into the room, but it had been next to impossible.

She’d explained her plans for her inheritance to the lawyer and he’d approved, with the caveat that she remember the stipulations of the will. If at any time she did anything scandalous, the money would be forfeit and she’d have to repay any amount she’d already spent. She’d put the stipulations from her mind long enough to finish the meeting and leave the office.

Mary’s car—a late-model Mercedes sedan—was parked at the curb, and she looked at that car feeling a new loathing for this life she’d been forced into. A part of her—the wild, crazy part—wanted to say the hell with it and walk away. She resented the restrictions and the instructions on how to behave that were being dictated from the grave.

But another bigger part of her mourned the baby she’d lost in childbirth, and she wanted to do what she could to ensure that no other woman ever had to live with that crushing feeling.

With her thoughts in such turmoil she couldn’t get in the car and go home yet. Instead, she walked along the sidewalk in front of a row of shops until she reached her friend Emma’s art gallery. Through the front window Mary could see Emma was with a customer, so she stayed outside. Featured in the display window was her latest print series—Paris. The series was composed of four different pieces that she’d simply titled for each of the seasons.

“Your work has really matured.”

She glanced up at Kane, surprised to see him here. He wore a black pullover and a pair of faded jeans. His hair hung rakishly over one eye and he looked way too good. The realization stung because she didn’t want to be attracted to him anymore.

“You think so? I still see room for improvement.”

“The artist is never satisfied,” he said, quoting back her own words.

Why did he remember so much of their time together? She certainly recalled those years in vivid detail, but that wasn’t surprising since she’d lived for him for so long. She’d almost refused when he’d offered to set her up as his mistress, uncomfortable with putting herself in that situation. In the end, however, the chance to be with Kane under any circumstances had stayed her.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

“Waiting for you. I’m going to design a financial plan for your foundation, remember?”

“Of course I remember. I meant, how did you find me here?”

“I was eating lunch across the way and spotted you.”

“Oh. For a minute I thought you’d been stalking me.”

The droll look on his face made her feel just a little bit foolish. But her response to him underscored something for her. She realized, for her own sanity, she couldn’t allow Kane to get close enough to set up her foundation.

“I’ve changed my mind about accepting your help.”

“Why?”

“Channing is going to be watching me like a hawk, trying to find some kind of chink in my new behavior so that he and his family can inherit instead of me.”

“Darling, I’m the soul of discretion.”

That was true, he always had been. It was her reaction to Kane that worried her more than anything he would do. That and the secrets of their shared past—both the nature of their relationship and the truth she’d kept from him.

“You don’t understand. If they found out I was your mistress, I’d lose everything.”

“No one knows the truth except you and I,” he said quietly.

She turned away from the window as Emma finished up with her customer. She didn’t want her friend to see her with Kane in tow. She took a few steps away from the shop and he followed.

He put his arm around her shoulder, drawing her close to him as he directed them across the street to a small park with a gazebo in the center. Underneath the shade of a large maple tree he stopped, leaning back against the trunk.

“I’m sorry, Mary.”

She was taken aback by his words. “For what?”

“For not doing things properly when we first met.”

She shook her head. She’d been over their relationship so many times and she knew that a big part of her had liked being Kane’s mistress. Had liked that her parents were outraged by it. She closed her eyes at how immature she’d been regardless of how sophisticated she’d felt.

“I think there’s plenty of blame to share,” she admitted.

He pulled her off balance and into his arms. Mary was very aware that this was her third public embrace with him and that Channing had actually witnessed the other two.

She pushed against his chest. “Let me go.”

“Not this time.”

A part of her wanted a relationship with Kane. What had started as a way to outrage her parents and to rebel had turned into love on her part. And she’d never forgotten Kane. But she wasn’t ready for the roller coaster of emotions being with him would entail. Especially now with so much at stake.

“I mean it. Let me go. If I’m seen like this, it will give them ammunition to use against me.”

“I’ll let you go on one condition.”

“And that is?”

“You let me work with you to establish the trust.”

“It would have to be strictly business. No more touching or kissing. I can’t risk it.”

“I can’t make any promises to not touch you. But I can assure you that I will do my utmost to make sure no one else witnesses it.”

“Then my answer will have to be no. Thanks, Kane.” She paused. “I know that this sounds weird, but it’s been really nice seeing you again.”

She turned to walk away, but his low voice stopped her in her tracks. “That’s not the answer I was looking for, Mary-Belle.”

She glanced over her shoulder at him. He hadn’t moved from his relaxed pose against the tree. He looked every bit the brooding English lord she knew him to be.

“Sorry to disappoint you.”

“You won’t for long. Since you’re so concerned about keeping me a secret…I’m going to blackmail you into accepting my help.”

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