Bind Page 7

  Embarrassment tore through her.

  How often did something like that happen? How many women came to Connor’s office long enough for him to seduce them? Was she one of many?

  Reminding herself no one had the ability to dictate her emotional state, Lara squared her shoulders as an outward show of pulling herself back together. “Thanks again for the coffee,” she said as she was leaving the room.

  “My pleasure. Next time I’ll have biscotti for you.”

  “Sounds heavenly,” she replied. She closed the door, knowing she wouldn’t be back.

  Lara kept her focus as she waited for the elevator. She avoided eye contact with other occupants and kept her head back as she strode through the lobby.

  At the main entrance, a woman took a step forward. “Ms. Bertrand?”

  “Yes?”

  “I’m April Martinez. Mr. Donovan asked me to give you a ride back to your offices.”

  The gesture startled her, but she realized it shouldn’t have surprised her. From her very first interaction with him, she’d felt something mesmerizing and seductive about the way he took charge of situations. Now she could add unsettling to the mix. The man liked to be in charge. Part of his dominant nature? Another sample of what it would be like if she were his woman?

  “Ma’am?”

  Humidity had made the afternoon feel like a swamp. The idea of air-conditioning appealed in a way that made the idea of resistance futile. “Thank you.”

  April indicated the sedan near the curb. Lara recognized it from the night he’d offered to rescue her from the rain.

  Heat suddenly slid down her spine. Over her shoulder, she glanced up at the building, unable to shake the feeling she was being watched. Maybe she was. More likely, she was being fanciful. Connor Donovan had more important things to do than watch her drive off.

  Unless he was waiting to see if she complied with his wishes?

  She entered the car and a few moments later, the driver merged into traffic. “Do you have the address?” Lara asked.

  “Mr. Donovan provided it.” April rattled it off. “Unless you’d like to make any stops?”

  In the rearview mirror, she met the woman’s eyes. Lara wondered, again, how often Connor did this kind of thing. “The office is fine.” Even though something to fortify her nerves appealed—the bakery or a bar. At this point, she’d settle for either.

  After April dropped her off, Lara hesitated. She realized she wasn’t mentally prepared to go back to work.

  Instead of entering the building, she sent text messages to her administrative assistant and to her father, letting them know she was taking the afternoon off.

  The drive home seemed interminable. The traffic didn’t distract her, and neither did cranking up an oldies station on the radio.

  And of course, when she arrived, Mrs. Fuhrman was outside with her five dogs. It didn’t matter that the eccentric woman wasn’t supposed to have that many. After her husband had died, Mrs. Fuhrman had signed up to be a foster parent for rescued dogs. And she couldn’t always allow herself to be parted from them, especially the ones with physical ailments. The dogs were all shapes, sizes, temperaments and ages. The oldest, Happy, only had three legs.

  Lara closed her car door just as Suzy-Q, an apricot-colored mastiff mix, yanked on her leash and broke free, dashing over toward Lara.

  Even though Mrs. Fuhrman was yelling at the dog to come back and to be nice, Suzy-Q jumped up, paws landing in the middle of Lara’s chest, knocking her back so that she rested on the car’s fender. The dog seemed to smile before licking her face and slobbering on her blazer.

  She grinned. There was nothing like puppy love to change her attitude.

  “Get down right now, Suzy-Q!”

  The dog ignored her owner. Instead, she put her big head on Lara’s shoulder.

  “I’m so sorry, Lara,” Mrs. Fuhrman called out. “I don’t know what’s gotten into her. She hears your car and starts to lose her mind, I’m afraid.”

  “She’s fine.” She stroked the dog behind one of her ears then told her to get down. Immediately Suzy-Q complied.

  Since four leashes were totally tangled and some of the dogs were excitedly barking, Lara returned Suzy-Q to Mrs. Fuhrman.

  “Thank you, dear. She must love you.” Mrs. Fuhrman shook her head, but not a single one of her blueish-purple hairs moved. “She’s usually much better behaved than that, as you know,” the woman said.

  Lara didn’t correct her neighbor even though Suzy-Q visited, in her exuberant, behaviorally challenged way, almost every day.

  Once Suzy-Q’s leash was back in the older lady’s hand and the woman had slipped back into one of the shoes she’d somehow lost, Lara went inside to change and wipe off the dog’s expression of affection.

  An hour later, she wasn’t convinced that coming home early had been the right choice. Being alone, with too much time and not enough to do, was never a good thing.

  She’d already weeded the garden, pruned some flowers and tidied the house. And she hadn’t been able to escape her thoughts.

  She grabbed her laptop and did an Internet search on submission and Dominance.

  Images populated the results, some of them appealing, most of them a bit frightening. She read a few well-written articles that explained both, from different perspectives. And it seemed that people did have varying expectations.

  But she was quite certain that, despite what he’d said, she’d have to become a bit of a puppet to him.

  She told herself that there was no way she was going to his home this evening. A marriage of convenience was a business deal that should be discussed in a boardroom or a neutral place. And that way, she could make sure he kept his hands off her. She’d already learned that a single touch from him could undo her.

  Decision made, she closed the computer’s lid.

  Now she only had a few more hours she needed to fill before she could start getting ready for the next day.

  After changing into running clothes and securing her hair into a ponytail, she headed out, down the street, focusing on her footfalls, looking ahead, trying to shut out the world as she normally did.

  It didn’t work. Unbidden, Connor’s words returned to tumble through her memory. It wasn’t just what he’d said. It was the certainty with which he’d said them, and the corresponding reaction that had slid through her.

  Lara turned a corner and picked up the pace, even though her breathing was already labored.

  As he’d suggested it might, his introductory taste had tantalized her. The way he’d tugged on her nipples had made her clench her thighs. Other men she’d been with had been afraid of giving her what she wanted, but clearly Connor wouldn’t be. She wasn’t sure if the idea appealed to her or terrified her.

  Despite her best intentions, her mind wandered back to his talk about punishment. What the hell had he meant by that? Part of her railed against the idea. Who the hell did he think he was? What gave him any idea that she’d be agreeable?

  And still… Curiosity made her panties damp.

  In that moment, she wondered who she was fighting—Connor or herself?

  She slowed her pace and headed for home.

  Running in Houston’s signature blend of heat and humidity was never a good idea. It zapped strength and energy. And it hadn’t banished a single thought of Connor.

  She let herself back into the house but nixed the thought of sitting on her leather couch in her damp clothes. Instead she filled a glass with filtered water before going outside to sit on the swing.

  The overhead fan provided a welcome relief as she took several long drinks.

  A hummingbird darted by, distracting her. With its unmistakable fluttering sound, it hovered for a second, then paused to sip some nectar from one of her lantanas before darting off.

  She pulled out her scrunchie and told herself she wasn’t going to Connor’s loft tonight. Not only that, but she wasn’t going to call him until tomorrow. Or the weekend. When she talke
d to him, it would be to let him know that a business arrangement was a solid idea but that she had no intention of being a submissive. That would complicate things far too much.

  Decision made, she went back inside to take a long, cool shower.

  It wasn’t until afterward that she checked her cell phone.

  She’d missed a call from her mother, presumably to confirm their lunch date tomorrow. Either that or her intuition had warned her that her only child was thinking of doing something potentially dangerous.

  There were no emails or texts from Connor. While that didn’t surprise her, she admitted it did disappoint her, even though she hadn’t given him her number. But it reinforced his point. He was a man of his word, something he felt essential to building trust.

  As she towel-dried her hair, she recognized she was playing games with herself. The fact she’d been disappointed that he hadn’t reached out to her forced her to realize that she wanted to see him. She’d liked being in his arms, liked his teasing introduction to the sex they would have.

  Still, she desperately needed some semblance of control. Instead of letting him send his driver, she planned to take her own car. And she wasn’t going to show up at eight.

  She keyed in her message and sent it before she could change her mind and do things his way.

  Less than thirty seconds later, he responded with his address and a code for entry to the parking garage.

  That was it? She stared at the phone, waiting for something more. Anything. But her screen remained blank.

  Seriously?

  She’d expected him to object, insist on sending April, or at least remind her that he was a big bad Dom and that he’d suggested eight o’clock. And he’d given her no arguments. The confounding man made it difficult to get frustrated with him.

  After dropping the phone onto the counter, she hurried into the bedroom.

  She chose her favorite bra. It was a nude color and covered with black lace. She’d paid a small fortune for it at a lingerie shop, and she wore it only on special occasions. Then she grabbed a pair of black underwear, something modest. Not that it mattered, she told herself. She wasn’t intending that Connor would ever see them.

  Then she went into her closet to search for the right outfit. Something that said this was a discussion, not a prelude to his seduction. Something that kept her covered up.

  After sorting through all of the hangers and digging through her drawers, she selected a sleeveless maxidress. She added platform sandals and a little jacket that covered her shoulders.

  Her hair was the next big decision. Up? Loose? She sighed, remembering the way he’d held her when he’d kissed her.

  She opened a drawer and took out a couple of clips to pull it back. Lingering dampness from her shower caused strands to curl around her cheekbones. She pushed them away, hoping they’d stay in place.

  After a minimal brush of mascara and a touch of lipstick, she studied herself then wiped off the lipstick.

  She left her house at seven-thirty and found his place with no delays, meaning she arrived right on time. So she drove around the block several times.

  By the time she entered the parking garage, the clock read eight-oh-five.

  She pulled in and saw him standing near a car that she recognized as the sedan from earlier. He was lazing against a concrete wall, one booted foot propped on the wall behind him.

  He wore a tight, long-sleeved charcoal T-shirt. The shirt had three small buttons, and he’d left the top two open. As if that weren’t bad enough, well-worn blue jeans hugged his legs.

  Lara had to force herself to concentrate. It was impossible to believe she’d asked this man to marry her.

  Her heart did a slow thud in her chest as she imagined coming home to him every day. This just wasn’t possible.

  She took her time parking, aware of him there, arms folded, watching her. She even stalled for a few seconds, gathering her purse, unfastening her safety belt, checking that she had everything.

  Evidently he grew tired of waiting. He pushed away from the wall and strode forward to open her door.

  He offered his hand. She slid hers into his. His touch and strength simultaneously made her feel protected and overwhelmed. Never had she experienced anything like that. “You scare me just a little,” she admitted.

  “Good.”

  Her heart skidded to a stop. “That response made things worse.”

  “I want you clear on what you’re getting into.” He drew her hand to his lips. “I’m glad you came.”

  “I wasn’t sure I was going to.” And she still wasn’t sure she should stay.

  He smiled. “I like bravery.”

  If he hadn’t added the end part, she might have turned and run like her feminine intuition was urging. Instead, she extricated her hand and he closed the car door.

  “Shall we?”

  Before she lost what remained of her brain cells, Lara tucked her keys into her purse. Once she was situated, he placed his fingers at the small of her back and guided her toward an elevator.

  She’d never had a man do that before. She found it a little intimate and, damn it, a bit sexy.

  He pushed the button for the thirtieth floor, and she took a step to the side to put some distance between them.

  They exited into a hallway and he indicated she should precede him to the end.

  His loft was considerably more modest than she’d expected for a man of his stature. Though there was no doubt that his furnishings and the few decorations were pricey, nothing was ostentatious.

  A small but functional kitchen was off to the right. Everywhere she looked, bricks and beams were exposed, giving the main living area an industrial feel. He had several large paintings all hanging from a picture rail. Each was accentuated by individual lighting.

  The loft’s furnishings were sparse, making the space seem large and airy. A low-slung leather grouping was arranged in front of the fireplace, creating an inviting area for conversation or relaxation. Windows offered a view that was all city, with its vibrancy. Somehow it suited him.

  “Feel free to make yourself at home,” he encouraged. “After all, I’m hoping you’ll be spending a considerable amount of time here.”

  She didn’t respond to that.

  “You’re welcome to put your purse over there.” He pointed to an interesting piece of furniture. It was crafted from mahogany and had a tall back with hooks placed at various intervals and a bench opened for storage.

  She laid her purse on it, near an iPod and his fitness watch.

  “Shall I show you around? Nothing’s off limits to my potential bride.”

  “About that…” She turned back to face him.

  He waited.

  “We need to talk.”

  “That’s why you’re here,” he agreed.

  Damn. He was devastating.

  This evening was the first time she’d seen him without a suit. And he was no less appealing for it. His shirt could have been custom-made, the fit was that good. She noticed his biceps were well formed. She’d previously guessed that he was a runner or biker, but she now knew his slender physique was a result of a tremendous amount of exercise.

  The ends of his hair were damp, but he obviously hadn’t shaved. The stubble on his jaw was masculine. As if that wasn’t enough, he smelled of danger laced with an undercurrent of invitation.

  “Something to drink? Wine?” he offered. “Red? White?”

  “Water,” she replied. “I need to keep my wits about me.”

  “Bottled? Or maybe some mineral water?”

  “That would be wonderful.” She gave a polite half smile.

  The loft was open, so she could watch as he went into the kitchen and pulled out a bottle from the fridge. Then he grabbed a lime, a knife and a cutting board.

  He cut the fruit into precise pieces and dropped one into the bottom of a thick glass before adding the sparkling water. He nicked another piece of lime to garnish the rim.

  “That was m
ore work than you needed to go through,” she said as she accepted the drink.

  She took a sip then toyed with the lime piece as she watched him pour a glass of wine.

  “Something wrong?” he asked.

  “I feel like you’re being polite. Overly polite, maybe.”

  “Are you waiting for my evil twin to show up?” He grinned, and she felt completely disarmed.

  “Sounds ridiculous that way.”

  “But?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’re wondering when I rip your clothes off and beat you? How the whole BDSM experience fits with your expectations of marriage and what I mean when I ask you to submit to me?”

  Her finger slipped, and the lime piece splashed into the mineral water.

  “The answer to the first question is the moment you ask me.”

  Her mouth dried. “I think I made it clear earlier. I’m afraid you’ve got the wrong woman if you think I’m going to ask you to rip my clothes off and beat me.”

  “Perhaps.” He walked into the living room and invited, “Join me?”

  She took a chair near the fireplace, her back to the window. Her choice was meant to keep as much distance between them as possible.

  As she’d planned, he sat on the couch. “Tell me what you were hoping for when you came here.”

  “I don’t know. What happened this afternoon bothered me.”

  “In a good way? Bad way?”

  “Both.” She placed her drink on one of several coasters that were scattered across the glass coffee table. “And truthfully, I want to appeal to your business sense and reiterate—”

  “You have.”

  She closed her mouth.

  “Let’s start where we agree. Having me on BHI’s board will provide you with needed support and give the company some valuable feedback and direction.”

  She nodded.

  “Further, both companies benefit.”

  “Yes.”

  “So your hesitation is due to the fact I’m a Dom.”

  “It is. I’m willing to make some arrangements with you. Maybe you could go to clubs, get your needs met that way?”

  “I’m open to discussion, to explaining, to moving slowly, to introducing you to my world a step at a time.”