Free Not For Sale by Sandra Marton Page A

come over him, a coolness replace the rage.
    “Haven’t you?”
    She shook her head. Pretend to be someone she wasn’t? Of course not.
    “No,” she said emphatically, “never!”
    “You want me to believe last night was your first time.”
    Caroline stiffened. “You act as if this was all my fault, but what about you? You were part of the game. You paid me to play a role.”
    The muscle in Lucas’s jaw flickered. She was right. He’d paid her to pretend to be his lover. As for what had happened afterward…
    That had been a role, too.
    Going to bed with strangers was her profession. She was a call girl. A prostitute. A woman who sold herself to men. And he—he had thought, if only for a moment, that something special had happened between them.
    Rage sent a flood of heat through his blood. He wanted to put his fist through the wall, to grab Caroline Hamilton and shake her like a rag doll.
    Instead, he took out his checkbook and a gold pen, wrote two checks, tore both out and gave one to Dani Sinclair. She looked at it, then at him.
    “Paid in full,” he said coldly.
    “Indeed, Mr. Vieira.” She smiled. “Lucas.”
    “Stick with Mr. Vieira,” he said, even more coldly, and held out the second check, to Caroline.
    “What’s that?” she asked in bewilderment.
    “It’s what I owe you for last night.”
    Heat shot into her face. “You don’t owe me anything.”
    “Of course I do,” he said impatiently. “I told Gordon I’d pay you a thousand dollars.”
    “No.” Caroline shook her head; she took a quick step back, her eyes never leaving the check in his outstretched hand. “You don’t owe me anything.”
    “Take the damned check!”
    “I don’t want it.”
    “I never renege on a deal.” He shoved the check at her. “Take it.”
    “Lucas.” Her voice trembled. “Whatever you’re thinking—”
    “You need the money,” he said coldly, “remember? And I sure as hell had everything I needed from you.”
    She didn’t move. All the color had drained from her face. Tears glittered in her eyes. Something inside him seemed to crack. He wanted to take her in his arms, kiss her until she stopped weeping.
    Cristos,
she was a damned fine actress.
    But she would never make a fool of him again.
    His hand closed around her wrist and he hauled her against him. He bent his head, took her mouth, kissed her hard enough to make her gasp. She raised her hand, balled it, hit his shoulder—and then her fist loosened, her fingers sought his cheek, spread over it and her lips softened under his, parted.
    Lucas cursed.
    Then he flung Caroline from him, let the check flutter to the floor and walked out.

CHAPTER SIX
    L UCAS knew he was in a dangerous frame of mind.
    Caroline Hamilton had lied to him, not just about who she was but
what
she was. The knowledge that he had taken her to his bed made him furious.
    He knew there was no point going back to his office. Making decisions, even dealing with people, would be a mistake when he was fighting to keep his temper under control.
    He had to work off some of his energy, find a physical focal point for the adrenaline raging through him. Going to the gym would surely do it.
    An hour later, he was sweaty, breathing hard—but his mood was still the same.
    Okay, he thought grimly as he showered, okay, there was only one other way to deal with this. To hell with permitting one deceitful woman to take up residence in his head. If a horse threw you, you climbed right back on.
    He had numbers in his BlackBerry, women he’d met, women who’d made it clear they were eager for him to call. Within minutes, he’d filled his weekend with enough variety to erase the memory of Caroline Hamilton forever.
    He went home, shaved, changed, phoned a restaurant where it took a month to get a table and, of course, got one for eight o’clock and prepared to enjoy the hell out of a brunette who greeted him with a big smile.
    Two hours later, he pleaded an early appointment the next