Clifftop Fantasies [BDSM Menage Fantasies] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) (11 page)

Without really thinking about where she was going, Allie started down the hiking trail Charlie and Jane had taken the previous day. It seemed as if the world was pushing down on her, and she needed to be outside, by herself, for a while. She also needed to consider her future and the future of her business and her relationship. Karl had a point, she knew, about the possibility of losing Brad either way. He might very well leave if she allowed the pictures to be republished. His father was a minister, and their whole family was very concerned with propriety and morality. In a way his overreaction was understandable. One of the reasons she’d been attracted to him was the feeling of normality and stability that radiated off him. Being around him was like Thanksgiving dinner. It felt traditional and homey and made her want to put on an apron and make apple pies. Her family life hadn’t been like that. Her mother had worked constantly and had been too tired the rest of the time to do the crafty, homey things that Brad’s mother was so good at. Holidays at the McCarthy home were what family should be.

His parents were a little fanatical and controlling, maybe, and had been very upset when she and Brad had made the decision to move to California to take advantage of Allie’s inheritance. But they had gone anyway, even though Brad still checked in with his parents every few days.

That made her wonder if he would tell them about the pictures. She blushed at the thought of it. Brad’s mother would be mortified. His father would be extremely disappointed in her. They might even tell Brad that she didn’t deserve him and he should come home immediately. The thought made her feel a little panicky, but when she pictured herself going back with him, she couldn’t get it in focus somehow. It would be like turning into a teenager again. Mr. McCarthy would help Brad get another accounting job, just like the one he’d had before. They would start pressuring them to get married and Allie to get pregnant, something she had never really wanted to do. She pictured herself living in a small apartment near her in-laws, spending her days taking care of a baby and waiting for her husband to come home.

It wasn’t right. It wasn’t her life. Even though she wanted people around her, she knew instinctively that wasn’t the way to do it. If Brad wanted to go back and have that life, he would have to go without her. She and Karl could run the bed-and-breakfast.

She stopped. Did she want to run the B and B with Karl? She still wasn’t sure what Karl’s angle was. He had said that he would stay and help her for her father’s sake, but how long would that be? She had never imagined that he would stay on permanently, but he showed no signs of having any other plans. In fact, the only plans he had ever hinted at having seemed to involve the house. He’d said that her father wouldn’t listen to his ideas, but he wouldn’t tell her what his ideas were until she decided what she wanted.

She found herself at the edge of a drop-off, and she recognized the clearing around her as the background of the pictures Jane had shown them last night. She sat down on a tree stump and looked out at the vista in front of her. Then she forced herself to think about Jane’s pictures. True, they hadn’t repulsed her particularly. She could see Karl’s point about the human body being a work of art. It was natural for people to enjoy looking at it, just like it was natural to enjoy looking at this view of forest and ocean. She found herself wondering about her father’s work. She’d seen a lot of his “normal” stuff, but Brad had seemed so disgusted by the idea of his erotic work that she had adopted his attitude. She had been glad he wasn’t interested in nude photography, and hadn’t wanted to seem intrigued by it herself for fear of Brad’s disapproval.

That seemed kind of stupid now. Posing nude had gotten her through college. It was a job. It hadn’t made her a bad person. Karl had said that most people wouldn’t have the guts to do what she had done. She reflected a little proudly that he was right. It had taken more bravery than she knew she’d possessed, but she’d done it. And, just as her father had said, it had made her a stronger, more independent person. Not a pervert or a slut. A strong woman who’d done what needed to be done to take care of herself. There was no shame in that.

She sat up a little straighter, still thinking. It was as if Karl had put it all in perspective for her. Just because Brad’s father objected to nudity, that didn’t mean she should be ashamed of her past. And it might make sense to sell the pictures and use the money to support her dreams now. Even if Brad rejected her, she knew she could be strong enough to take care of herself, whether or not Karl stayed.

She didn’t like the idea of Karl leaving, she thought as she started back toward the house. He’d been a huge help, not only with the physical labor of renovating the house, but also in giving her advice about decorating. He’d helped her pick out color schemes and taught her about the way light and shadow could be used to accent the architectural features of the house. She’d supposed at first that he was gay, and that had taken away any discomfort about working so closely with him. Now she wondered how she could have ever made that assumption. He was artistic, yes, but that didn’t mean anything. Being near him made her feel comfortable, as if he would keep her from making any bad mistakes, and she’d trusted his decorating advice implicitly. He had never pushed her into dealing with the erotic photography, although he’d teased and flirted with her about it. She’d laughed and flirted back, thinking that he’d had no interest in her except as the daughter of his lover, someone he wanted to help. She hadn’t been present for the reading of the will, so she had no idea what legacies had been left to anyone other than herself. She hadn’t really expected anything from her father, knowing his tendency to spend every penny he made without any thought to his responsibilities. When she’d asked her mother about getting child support from him, her mother replied haughtily that she wouldn’t dream of it. Besides, she’d said, Allie’s father had an uncanny knack of making and surviving on nothing, and you couldn’t get blood from a stone. Allie thought that maybe Karl had handled their money, thereby hiding any assets he’d had. But as an adult there had seemed to be no way to ask and no hope of recovering anything that should have been hers. She’d decided that if Karl had taken care of her eccentric and often disagreeable parent, he probably deserved any money he’d been able to acquire. She was happy with her house, and if she lost it, she knew it would be her own fault, not Karl’s. He had done everything he could to help her.

Now that she was reasonably sure he hadn’t been her father’s lover, she found that her attraction to him was growing. Images flashed through her mind of the two of them working together, laughing at the sight of each other covered in wallpaper paste, going over paint samples and arguing about the best placement of pictures. She always gave in to him at the end of those arguments. Mostly she liked to listen to him explain how one placement was better than another because of angles or light or some other thing she would never have thought of. When he was in teacher mode, his warm, green eyes would get a distracted look and his voice would take on a deep, sensuous tone that made her knees go weak. If Brad really did leave, maybe Karl…She had a vision of their evenings alone, the three of them having dinner, laughing about something, and wished there was a way they could go back to that, even though it would mean she couldn’t hope to ever act on her attraction to Karl. Maybe it would be enough to reclaim the comfortable feeling of being around them both.

But there was no point in
that
kind of speculation right now, she knew. First she had to try to save her relationship. Brad might be overreacting to his discovery, but at least everything was out in the open now. Maybe Jane had done her a favor. They were at a crossroads, and it was time to make an honest, realistic assessment of where they were and what they each wanted out of their relationship and their lives.

She walked across the backyard with an overwhelming need to call Brad. There seemed to be no time to lose. If Brad wanted to make a new start and try to save their relationship, they had better get busy.

He picked up the phone almost immediately. There was the sound of clinking dishes and lots of voices in the background. She glanced at her watch and saw that it was 11:20. He probably hadn’t had breakfast this morning, and after not eating last night, she guessed it wasn’t too surprising he was out for an early lunch.

“Hi,” she said tentatively. “Can we talk for a minute?”

“Um…” He sounded hesitant.

“Are you in a meeting?”

“Not really—well, kind of. Can you excuse me for a minute?” The last thing was said to someone on his end.

There was a peal of laughter, and a female voice said, “Sure, sweetie. Take your time.”

It was Jane. Allie froze, listening for her to say something else, but there was no question in her mind really. Jane was having lunch with Brad. Allie’s boyfriend. And laughing as if there was nothing wrong in the world. Why would she be doing that?

“Is that Jane?” she asked unnecessarily.

“Um, yeah,” he admitted. Allie had been searching for an innocent, reasonable explanation, but the guilt in Brad’s voice told her what she needed to know.

“What are you doing?” she demanded, forgetting her part as the girlfriend with the secret besmirched past.

But Brad had recovered his position as the wronged, deceived boyfriend. “I’m having lunch,” he said defensively. “I needed to talk to somebody about everything that’s been going on.”

Allie thought about that for a few seconds. “Did you call her?”

“Well, no. She called and suggested we meet for lunch to talk things over. There’s nothing going on.”

Allie considered. There was no way they could have a discussion about their future over the phone while he was sitting in a restaurant with another woman. She sighed.

“Are you coming home tonight?”

There was a pause. “I don’t think so,” Brad said finally. “I need some space to think about my options and decide what’s best for me. Besides, you have Karl there to take care of things.”

She didn’t like the way he’d said that. She was tempted to say, “And is Jane taking care of things on your end?” but she resisted. Instead she asked, “Where are you staying?”

“I’ll stay in my office. Or I’ll figure something else out. I’ll call you later. Our food’s here now.”

He hung up without waiting for a response. Or saying “good-bye” or “I love you” or anything else. Allie stared at the phone in her hand. It was as if he’d already written off their whole life together. Could he be that shallow? And if he was dumping her because she’d done nude photography before she’d met him, why was he taking up with a woman who did it on a regular basis—and showed it to anyone who would look?

She went back upstairs in a daze and sat down on the bed in the literary bedroom, staring at her work but not actually seeing it. She was picturing a bedroom covered with nude pictures—Jane, herself, random women in erotic poses, some tied up, all with spread legs and suggestive, inviting expressions. The images expanded to show Karl with a camera, taking pictures, ordering them all into the poses he wanted. It was intriguing, but she couldn’t allow herself to indulge in those kinds of thoughts. Yet. She sat for a few minutes, trying to pull her mind back into the real room with its photos of Emerson, Austen, Whitman, and Dickens, but it was no good. Finally she got up and raced down the stairs, through the kitchen, and across the yard toward the barn.

Chapter 11

“Karl, I want to see the pic—” Allie tore into the barn’s main room, focused on getting the words out before she lost her nerve.

She skidded to a stop just inside the door, her face instantly going bright red. Charlie, Karl, and another man were leaning over the table that she and Karl had been using earlier. There was a spread of pictures in front of them, and Charlie was pointing to one. He went silent as she burst through the door. Karl stepped around the table to come toward her.

“Hello,” he said casually. “Can I help you with something?”

She stared at him standing in front of her. It was as if he was trying to keep her away from the other two. Charlie she would have happily stayed away from, but it seemed suspicious that he was back so soon, displaying pictures to Karl and a stranger in her barn. She wondered if they were
the
pictures and flushed again, leaning to the side, trying to see around Karl to the table.

He leaned with her, blocking her view. It wouldn’t have mattered since Charlie was gathering the pictures up and stuffing them into his briefcase.

“We need to be getting on the road anyway, Karl,” he said, and the two men walked past them to the door. “Thanks for your time. I’ll be in touch.” Charlie turned and gave Allie a wink as he left. It didn’t make her feel any better.

“Was that—” she began, watching the door close with wide eyes.

Karl chuckled. “Not everything is about you, sweetheart,” he said, turning her back around to face him. “Now, what can I do for you?”

“I—” She stopped, her resolve draining down through the floorboards. “I want to know if those were my pictures that the three of you were looking at. And who was that other man?” She folded her arms over her chest and stared defiantly at Karl.

He grinned back at her, folding his arms in imitation of hers. “You probably won’t believe this, but I promise you those photos were not yours. Or not the ones you’re thinking of, anyway. Now, what were you saying about seeing something?”