He should have had his cell phone on silent, too. When he’d seen Kennedy Aldrich’s name on caller identification, he’d been grateful for the interruption. Until he’d realized that Aldrich wanted to talk about the source of Reece’s distraction. “Bill me for it.”
“So she is yours.”
“Fuck you, Aldrich.” He paced to the window and stared to the east. On the vast Texas skyline, storm clouds were gathering, matching his bleak mood perfectly. If he’d had the opportunity, he’d have ordered this weather. A pisser of a gray, bleak winter day.
“Do you want to know what advice I’m giving her?”
“No.”
“Or how many hours I’m going to bill you for?”
“Just send me the invoice.”
“There’s a comma in it.”
“It better have been damn good advice.”
“She’s in a good place to make this into a franchise.”
“I’m sure you’ll put her in touch with the right people. Keep an eye on things.”
“It’ll cost you,” Kennedy warned. “I generally turn these things over to an associate.”
“Keep an eye on it.”
“You got it.”
“Did she send you the picture of all of us wearing our walking-on-air athletic shoes?”
“Surprised it came out with all that blinding color.” He didn’t want to admit that he hadn’t seen it.
“I forwarded it to Julien. He has the no photos rule. But that picture would be a hell of a coup for the product launch. I’m waiting on his decision as to whether we can use it for PR purposes or not.”
“Not until you’ve got me some stock and a way to make certain this conversation doesn’t qualify as insider trading.”
They exchanged pleasantries, and they agreed to meet in Las Vegas at the big tech show hosted each spring by Julien’s company.
“How’s your mom?”
“Good, thanks. Once they got her blood pressure regulated, they sent her home. Wasn’t a heart attack.”
“That’s a relief. Jacqueline and Thomas send their regards.” As if to keep them at a distance, Kennedy referred to his parents by their first names.
“I’ll be sure to tell her, thanks.”
“And your dad’s golf game?”
“He says you won’t stand a chance next time the two of you play. He wants to know if you’re still being a pansy and riding in a cart.”
“Ouch.”
“And the answer is?”
“I thought a pansy was a flower.”
“Is it?” If it wasn’t for the service that came in and watered and pruned his foliage once a week, he’d have nothing alive at his apartment.
“Anyway, yeah, I still ride a cart. I get to the clubhouse quicker that way.”
“Then why play golf?”
“I don’t. Hate the sport. I swing at a ball as an excuse to drink before noon and ride around with people I’m going to take money from. More deals are made on the golf course than in any boardroom.”
Reece shook his head.
“You doing okay?”
“If the question is do you need to send Scotch? The answer is no.”
“Wasn’t worried. Got a charity event in DC this weekend. Could use the moral support.”
He’d seen the invitation. “And a check for ten thousand dollars for a platinum-level sponsorship?”
“Not necessary. Thought you might want to help me with some of those debutantes Jacqueline keeps shoving at me.”
“I’ll send a check.”
“I was afraid of that.”
“Poor you. Your choice of a dozen beautiful young women.”
“With dreams of babies and access to my bank account.”
He didn’t envy his friend.
“For the record, McRae?”
“Yeah?”
“Sarah doesn’t sound any better than you do.”
“I didn’t ask.”
“You didn’t have to.”
Kennedy ended the call.
Reece turned and tossed his phone onto the desk. He knew the screen wouldn’t break, thanks to the impermeable box that surrounded it. Another of Julien’s minor inventions.
He paced the office until he realized he was accomplishing nothing. Nor had he for the past two weeks.
For the first few days he’d been back in Houston, it had been relatively easy not to think of her. He’d been busy helping his dad and caring for his mother while juggling his work responsibilities.
Then, when Georgia had started to feel better, he’d slept for almost twenty-four hours.
He’d woken with a hard-on and Sarah on his mind.
Frustrated, he’d taken a shower and jacked off. But as he’d closed his eyes, he’d imagined fucking her hot, tight cunt.
Even though his ejaculate had spurted onto the tile floor, it hadn’t got rid of the churning in his gut.
It was then that he’d realized he couldn’t pretend the island weekend hadn’t happened.
For the next week, he shoved aside thoughts of her.
He’d driven himself to work sixteen-hour days. After work, he had hit the gym, relentlessly pushing himself until he reached exhaustion. With everything he had, he’d willed time to pass.
That had been the only thing that had saved him two years ago when she’d vanished. It would be the only thing that helped this time.
Now that Kennedy had brought her up, there was no avoiding her.
So what if she wasn’t doing well?
And what the hell did that mean, anyway?
He strode to his computer, backed up his file, grabbed his keys and cell phone then crossed into the reception area. “I’m taking the rest of the day off,” he told Karen.
“Everything okay, Mr McRae? Any special instructions?”
Generally she patched calls through to his cellular when he was out of the office. “Take messages.”
“Will you be back in tomorrow?”
“I’ll let you know.”
At his apartment building, he hit the fitness center and did almost an hour on the rowing machine, until his arms ached and his lungs burned.
The exercise didn’t banish the memory of her.
After wrapping a towel around his neck, he jogged up the eight flights of stairs to his apartment.
Despite the fact that it was only mid-afternoon, gloom sucked the color from the walls. Thick, slushy drops of rain pelted the bank of windows and wind shook the panes in their casings. He closed the blinds and turned on the overhead lights.
Reece flipped the switch to ignite the living room fireplace. When he’d first moved in, the gas-burning logs had seemed like an unnecessary addition, but he’d learned to welcome its presence on dreary, cool days like today.
He grabbed a bottle of water from the kitchen before heading into the master bedroom.
Near the dresser, he paused.
Her original collar still lay at the bottom of a drawer. Why he’d kept it, he couldn’t explain. It had been ordered for her, but throwing away something so expensive had seemed ridiculous. Briefly, he’d considered selling it. But setting up an account at an online auction house to sell one item seemed like a waste of time. And he hadn’t wanted to take it to a jeweler. Most of all, he hadn’t wanted to imagine it around the neck of another sub. Even to himself, that rationale seemed shaky. He should have got rid of it.
And he sure as hell shouldn’t be thinking about looking at it right now.
But he was.
Even though there were a dozen good reasons he shouldn’t, Reece opened the drawer and removed the red velvet pouch.
He loosened the drawstring and pulled out the collar.
The years had taken some of the luster from the metal. He grabbed a T-shirt and ran it over the surface until the overhead light danced its reflection off the silver.
She’d been right when she’d told him the metal was thick. He’d ordered it that way. The three millimeter width was intended to make a proud, unabashed statement about her, about them.
But he hadn’t meant it to intimidate her.
Looking at it now, critically, he could see why she’d been scared.
Wearing it would require a lot of confidence. The whole world would know about their relationship. And she might be asked questions. She was right that people outside the lifestyle would be curious. This collar wasn’t subtle like the choker, something that could be passed off as a beautiful accessory.
Words Kennedy had spoken on the island returned to haunt him.
There’s a difference between real fear and being a coward.
In his greed to make his claim on his woman, he hadn’t been as aware of her needs as he’d thought. Blithely, he’d believed that everything was okay, that she was as comfortable as he was, that their relationship was progressing to the point where she’d want to be married and collared. The realization that they’d never discussed what that would mean to each of them stunned him.
Despite that, she’d sought him out. She couldn’t have known what reaction she’d get from him. But she might have guessed that he’d still be angry and would demand that she atone for the sin of leaving him. He’d told her he’d test her, and she’d met his every challenge, physical and mental. She’d even valiantly accepted a choker that represented his collar. As he looked back, it humbled him.
All along, he’d blamed her without looking to himself as the reason for her fear. Because of what he’d needed from their relationship, it had been his responsibility to keep those lines of communication open.
The knowledge that he’d failed her shook him.
For one of the first times in his life, he was unsure of his next step.
How the hell did he make amends when he’d fucked up beyond redemption? He recalled the stark hurt on her face, her brave smile, the sheen of tears covering her big green eyes before she’d fled from his hotel room.
How could he have been stupid enough to let a woman that beautiful, that courageous walk out of the door?
Fuck.
He picked up his phone and dialed the Genius of the Known Universe.
* * * *
“How’d the grand adventure go?”
Sarah put down her latte and looked at Loretta. Her long-time client had become a friend, and it had been her words that had inspired her to contact Julien to arrange the meeting with Reece. “The party was great,” Sarah responded, evaded. “Julien can throw himself a hell of a party.”
“That’s not what I’m asking. You know it.”
Sunlight dappled through the downtown Golden coffee shop window. Today was one of the reasons she liked Colorado in the winter. The sky was brilliant blue. The recent snow had melted, and a promise of spring whispered on the chinook wind.
To escape her own thoughts, she’d called Loretta, slapped on a helmet, grabbed her bike and a credit card then ridden ten miles before ending up here. The endorphins helped the burn in her muscles, but not the ache in her heart. “I haven’t heard from Reece since I got back.”
“So you did see him at the party like you were hoping?”
“He was there.”
“And?” Loretta prompted. “Do I need to get a crowbar to get answers out of you? Give it up.”
How to explain what had happened? The fabulous, boundary-pushing sex, the sensual feel of his leather lash, the seamless way they’d danced together, the off-the-hook sex in the stairwell, the dinner spanking, the connection, the intimacy, the teasing.
“Or did you discover that he wasn’t as fabulous as you remembered? He’d got old and fat.”
“He’s handsome as ever.”
“I know. I did an Internet search. Does his personality match? He seemed to have a nice smile, but I wasn’t sure if it was forced. I know you call him the Iceman.”
“Emotionally, toward me, he still is. But…” She trailed off.
“You had sex?”
She nodded.
“Was it good sex?”
“At least passable.” Sarah laughed. She should have expected the question. She and Loretta shared a lot of secrets. Even though the woman looked prim and proper with her coiffed hair, pencil-slim skirt, figure-shaping stockings, sensible pumps and a strand of pearls resting on her blouse, she had a twisted sense of humor. She went to the comedy club with friends at least once a month, and the raunchier the comedian, the more she enjoyed it. “Yeah. It was better than I remembered.”
“Anal?”
“Loretta!” She glanced around the coffee shop.
“And he brought out whips and chains, didn’t he?”
Sarah collapsed against the back of her chair. “Is anything sacred with you?”
“Are you kidding me? I’m living vicariously through you. I want every single detail.” She took a bite of biscotti and waited.
“Yes.”
“Yes to what?”
“Yes to all of it.”
“No!”
“Yes.”
Loretta dropped her biscotti into her cup.
“All
of it?”
“All of it.”
“So what the hell is wrong with your young man?”
“There’s nothing wrong with him.”
“Is he gay?”
“What? No.” Sarah laughed.
“Is he married?”
Sarah shook her head.
“Engaged?”
Again she shook her head.
“Committed to some other woman?”
“Not to my knowledge.”
“Then something is wrong with him,” Loretta claimed. Using a spoon, she fished the swollen biscuit from the bottom of her cup. “If he let you come back to Colorado alone, there’s something wrong with his head.”
“He’s not going to forgive me. I took your advice. And I tried.”
“Do you love him, still? Or did you find out that it wasn’t as good as you remembered?”
Sarah thought about that. “It was better.” They’d communicated better than they had before. They’d spoken honestly, openly. He’d been everything she’d hoped, kind, considerate, mannerly, possessive.
“Then call him. Tell him to lace up his big boy shoes and come and claim you.”
Sarah grinned at that thought. Call up a Dom who’d made it clear that he didn’t want her and boss him around. “I’ll get back to you on that.”
“Mark my words, young woman.”
She picked up her latte. “You told me I owed it to myself to find out. You were right. Somehow, I just have to quit thinking about him.” Obsessing was more like it. She went to sleep with him on her mind, dreamed of him then woke up thinking about him only to spend the whole day trying to ignore those thoughts.
Every once in a while, she looked at the pictures she’d taken of the four guys at Julien’s party. If she were smart, she’d delete them.
But when it came to Reece, smart was a vague concept.