She shrugged. "I left a note."

His lips tightened. "A note that contained two sentences: 'Don't look for me. I'll come back only when I'm ready.' Very melodramatic. Didn't it occur to you that it was also a little inconsiderate?"

For a moment her control broke. "No more than it did to you when you sent me away," she said fiercely. "I told you I didn't want to go. You wouldn't listen to me. I told you—" She broke off. "But that's all in the past. It's not important now."

His lips curved in a curious smile. "For a moment there I thought it did matter to you," he said softly. "My mistake." He stretched his legs out before him with the deceptively lazy grace of a stalking cat. "So what have you been doing all these years?"

She glanced away. "Nothing much. I had a few jobs. I managed to survive."

"You don't intend to confide in me?" He clucked reprovingly. "And we're such old friends, Pandora."

"It's not very interesting. I wouldn't want to bore you."

"On the contrary, I'd be very interested." He waved his hand in a gesture of dismissal. "All right, let's move on to more recent history. Let's talk about Luis Estavas."

Her eyes widened. "Luis? But how—"

"Or perhaps you'd like to tell me about your weekend with that Texas millionaire, Ben Danford." His expression hardened. "Or your current live-in companion, Neal Sabine."

"You've had me investigated," she said, her eyes wide with incredulity.

"You're damn right I did," he said harshly. "You stole those six years from me. I had a right to know who you were spending them with."

"Stole!" She shook her head. "You're impossible. Those were my years, my life, not yours." She was so indignant that for a moment she didn't realize what a lucky break this was. Philip had done her work for her. She wouldn't have to drop any subtle hints about her shady past or dangle poor Neal in front of him. She was already established as a woman of the world thanks to Philip's possessiveness. She tried to hide her relief beneath a careless laugh. "My men friends have been delightfully amusing." She paused. "And quite protective. Life can be difficult for a woman on her own."

"Financially?" He lifted a brow. "I understood rock stars made exceptionally good money."

"They do while they last." She made a face. "And good musicians can have lasting and lucrative careers. Unfortunately, I seem to spend money as quickly as I make it." She touched the velvet of her gown. "I like pretty things, and I have no illusions about my talent. I have a good, strong pair of lungs, style, and a body that's appealing enough in the scanty costumes Neal dresses mein. I'll coast along another year or so, but in the end I'll be replaced by a new craze."

"Still, you're very watchable. I think I might like to see you perform."

She tried to hide the sudden alarm she was feeling. He mustn't do that. She revealed too much of herself when she was on stage. "You don't like rock, and I'm hardly good enough to change your mind. You'd be disappointed."

"You're very realistic."

"The life I've lived hasn't encouraged anything else. I've learned to look for certain"—she paused delicately—"rewards in my relationships." She gave him the smoldering look Neal had taught her for publicity photos. She did it very well by now. "That's the real reason I sent you the medallion. I thought we might come to an arrangement. You've always been very generous to women who please you."

His face was impassive. "You know I don't indulge in permanent associations. You were streetwise even as a child, and I never tried to hide my relationships from you. I haven't changed."

She laughed. "Does that report from your detective agency indicate that I'm looking for commitment?" She shook her head. "Permanency doesn't have any appeal for me either. It just so happens I have a three-month break after the concert tomorrow night and I thought we might spend it together."

His face was watchful. "Let's be very clear, shall we? You're offering to become my mistress for the next three months, with no strings attached, inexchange for my"—his lips curved in a mirthless smile—"generosity?"

Her throat was dry. "Yes. Does the idea appeal to you?"

"Oh yes, it appeals to me. You're a very beautiful woman, and I've always liked a businesslike approach in my Khadims."

Khadim. There was no special emphasis on the word, yet it cut like a knife. She held her smile in place with an effort. "I remember that. Then are we in agreement?"

"Perhaps." His expression was intent. "There's something about your very tempting offer that makes me vaguely uneasy."

"Uneasy?"

"Perhaps it's my pride smarting. Maybe I enjoy having a woman put up at least a pretense of desiring me before the negotiations start."

Pretense. Oh dear heaven, who wouldn't want him? Her problem was that she mustn't reveal how much she wanted him. "I don't think you'll find me lacking in emotion." Her voice was a little husky, but maybe he'd mistake it for sultriness. "I think you know I had something of a crush on you when I was a kid. It would have been hard to miss. I thought an affair might not only be amusing, it might serve to exorcise you."

"Exorcise?" he repeated. "You make me sound like a devil incarnate. If you're going to be a successful Khadim, you're going to have to learn to choose your words more carefully. I'm not sure I like to be thought of in those terms." His eyes narrowed. "But I admit the idea of being a fantasy figure is highly erotic to me." He rose lithely and strode across the room. Before she knew what was happening he had pulled her to her feet. His eyes were no longer cool, but burning brightly, and she felt her heart leap wildly. "Did you fantasize about me, Pandora?" he asked softly. "About how it would be when I made love to you?"

She couldn't breathe. She could scarcely get a word out. "Yes." She knew her eyes were revealing too much. She tried to shrug carelessly. "A few times, I suppose."

"I'm beginning to have a few fantasies myself." His strong, graceful hands were lightly cupping her shoulders, kneading the flesh through the black velvet. His eyes had dropped to the fullness of her breasts. "Do you know that when you shrug the way you did just now that the neckline dips just enough for me to get a glimpse of the pink of your nipples? Just a glimpse, and then it's gone. Much more arousing than going topless. Did you plan it that way?"

"No." Her voice was a whisper. She was glad his eyes were no longer on her face, for her cheeks were suddenly hot. "I didn't know."

"Whoever created that gown did. Its purpose is very clear. There's nothing more voluptuous than black velvet against smooth white skin." His voice was suddenly thick. "You have magnificent breasts. Your skin has an almost luminous quality." One hand slipped slowly from her shoulder to her throat. "It reminds me of the women in the Delacroix paintings." His finger reached the upper slope of her left breast. The touch was gossamer light, yet heat rippled through her. "But all paintings should have an appropriate frame."

She felt as if she were mesmerized. She knew her breasts were tautening, swelling beneath his eyes. "Frame?" she asked vaguely.