Fixed 01 - Fantasy Fix (10 page)

He kissed her tenderly on the cheek, grinning when she grumbled in her sleep and curled away from him. He had worn her out, and she obviously refused to let him interrupt her sleep for sex yet again.

He had no plans to wake her, no matter how his libido urged him to do so. He would let her sleep for now. He could afford such generosity, because he knew it would not be long before he saw her again.

Brushing her tangled hair off her cheek, he let his hand cup the side of her face while he gazed down at her and slipped his mind into hers. He double checked his veil and found no trace of memory lingering to tell her what he was or that he had fed from her while they made love. All she could remember would be passion and pleasure.

He had to resist the urge to give the pleasure memories an extra boost, just to be safe. Instead, he gave her the thought that he desired her as much as she desired him, that he could not wait to see her again. He molded the thought until it took the proportion of memory, and he could be certain she would heed it. He kissed her once more and stood.

He took a few moments to straighten up, pulling the disarranged sheets back onto the mattress and smoothing them down, tucking Regina inside. He wound up the cords and the blindfold he’d used on her and put away all the other accoutrements of their encounter. If he hadn’t known Reggie’s friends had provided her with these things, he’d have gotten a very different impression of her, he thought, grinning. Reading her mind definitely made things easier.

When the room looked tidy, he pulled on his jeans, draped his shirt over his shoulder and carried his boots into her living room. He snooped just enough to find one of her business cards, which he pocketed before he finished dressing and let himself quietly out of her apartment. Now that he knew where she worked, he would be able to keep tabs on her during the week while he dedicated his attention to clearing a path for their relationship.

It grated at him, the thought of the small steps he would have to endure while he worked to overcome her natural suspicions of him. He hated the time it would take, wanted to make her officially his, but he would have things settled so no one could doubt Regina belonged to him—not even Regina.

Chapter Seven

Reggie woke Saturday morning with a song in her heart and an ache between her thighs.

Eyes snapping open, she flew into a sitting position in the middle of her big bed and surveyed the room around her. It looked like he’d never been there.

She blinked, but everything appeared perfectly normal. The room was neat and bright in the light flooding through the two casement windows. She didn’t know what she’d been expecting to see, given they’d confined their activities to the bed the entire time, but there should have been
something
. Surely the most amazing night of her life would leave her with some kind of reminder?

Then she stretched, and she discovered exactly where the reminder came from; it lurked in her muscles—every single one of them. She ached from her neck down, remnants of the bondage as much as the enthusiastic sex. Bringing her arms back to her sides, she rolled her shoulders to loosen the tight muscles and absently rubbed her wrists. They bore no marks, no sign of the ropes that had held her still and spread for Dmitri, but she could still feel them against her skin. She did find marks on her hips, though, dusky impressions that showed where his fingers had bitten into her flesh while he held her still and fucked her.

God! What a night!

With a heartfelt sigh, Reggie swung her legs over the side of the bed, stood and failed to suppress a wince. She hobbled, as bowlegged as a drunken cowboy, into the adjoining bathroom and turned the shower on to hot.

Once the pelting water had loosened the worst of her knotted muscles, she shampooed her hair and lathered a loofah with her favorite honeysuckle-scented soap. The familiar fragrance brought memory flooding back.

I love your scent,
milaya.
Like honey and musk and warm, wet woman.

Even in the heat of the shower, the memory made her shiver. She wondered what would happen when she actually saw him again. The man would be lucky if she didn’t trip him and beat him to the floor…

She froze. It seemed weird, but she knew she would indeed see him again. Despite the fact that she’d woken up alone in her bed with not a hair out of place and not a scrap of evidence to prove Dmitri Vidâme even existed, she never doubted he would come back to her. Her mind tried to logic it out, saying she didn’t know where he lived, what he did, or even if that was his real name, but she didn’t care. She knew with an unshakeable faith her time with Dmitri had been more than a one-night stand.

Operating on autopilot, her mind otherwise occupied, she finished up her shower, wrapped herself in a bath sheet and headed into the kitchen. She was starving. Apparently, being fucked within an inch of her life by a mysterious man with psychic powers could really work up an appetite.

She rummaged around for some food while the coffee brewed. Cereal wouldn’t cut it this morning. She held two eggs and a carton of milk when the phone rang, and of course, by the time she managed to set them down without cracking the eggs, her machine had picked up. Reggie reached for the receiver, but yanked her hand back when she heard the voice on the answering machine’s speaker.

“Reggie, it’s Ava. If you’re there, pick up.” Pause. “I’m going to assume that you’re exhausted and still asleep, but if I don’t hear from you by this afternoon, I’m going to call the police. Call me.”

The machine clicked and beeped when the call ended, and the recording stopped. Reggie groaned and groaned again when she saw the rapidly blinking light indicating she had more messages waiting. Bracing herself, she pushed play. All of the messages were from Ava.

Beep. “You better have a damn good reason for sneaking out of the club, Regina Elaina McNeill!” Ava must have called on her cell last night, because Reggie could hear the noise of the club in the background. “Just wait until I get my hands on you!”

Beep. “All right, you get slightly less painful revenge. Missy just said she saw you leave with someone gorgeous. Of course, we have no way of knowing he’s not a serial killer until you
call and let us know you’re okay!
”

Beep. “The club’s closing in a few and no call. Where are you? You’d better be okay, or I’ll kill you myself.”

Beep. “We checked with the bartender, since no one has heard from you, and he said you left with a man named Dmitri, who he guaranteed was not a psycho ax maniac. He’d better be right, and you’d better call as soon as you wake up. Good-night.”

Reggie rolled her eyes at the machine and hit the delete button. She knew her friends only wanted to make sure she was okay, but their attitude rankled, especially after they had gotten her into the situation to begin with. If not for their Fix, Reggie would never have gone to that club, let alone have left with a total stranger, god-like sex appeal or no.

She glanced over at the clock and did some quick calculations. Saturday at eleven meant Missy would be at the park with her niece and nephew and would check her cell for messages in precisely half an hour, just before she took the kids out for lunch. Telling herself “prudent” sounded better than “cowardly,” Reggie dismissed the idea of calling Ava and dialed Missy’s cell. When the message ended and the voice mail program beeped at her, Reggie spoke.

“Hi, it’s me. I got a bunch of messages from Ava on my machine. I just wanted to let everyone know I’m fine. I had a great time last night, but I’ve got a ton of chores to catch up on today, so I might not talk to ya’ll until Monday. Give Nicky and Beth hugs for me. Bye.”

After she hung up the phone, she pushed Ava from her mind and focused on the really important things. Like food.

An hour later, fortified with an omelet and coffee and decently dressed in a pair of faded jeans and a knit top, Reggie made good on her lie and got down to cleaning her apartment. Not being a total slob or an unmarried man, it went quickly.

When the phone rang an hour later, she almost missed it over the dull roar of the vacuum cleaner. As it was, she barely got to the receiver before the machine picked up.

“Hello?” She knew she sounded breathless, but that’s what happened when someone called on cleaning day. They’d have to deal.

“Reggie?”

 
Okay, what higher power have I pissed off this week?
Reggie wondered while she sank to the arm of the chair beside her and took a deep breath. “Hello, Greg.”

“I was hoping I’d catch you at home. How’ve you been?”

You mean, since I caught you debriefing your administrative assistant on your lunch hour? Or can you not debrief someone who’s wearing a thong?
“Just fine, thanks.”

“Good, good.” He sounded just a little nervous, which made Reggie’s day just a little brighter. “Listen, I know you probably aren’t all that thrilled with me these days—“

Gee, do you think, Einstein?
“Don’t be silly.”

“But I’d really like to see you. Do you think there’s any chance you might consider meeting me for a drink somewhere?”

Whoa. That brought her up short. Gutless Greg the Wunderjerk wanted to see her again? For what? Did he really think she wanted to hear his lame explanations all over again? Did he think it would make the slightest bit of difference if he finally apologized? If he begged for forgiveness? If he got down on his hands and knees and groveled before her feet like the immoral dog he was? Okay, so maybe that last bit would help. She sure enjoyed the imagery. “When did you have in mind?”

“Tonight?”

What? Did he not think she might possibly have other plans on a Saturday night? Just because she didn’t was no reason to assume anything.

 
“Unless you already have plans.”

“Well, I do have something planned,” she lied, her tone purposefully cool and bored, “but I might be able to spare you twenty minutes or so if you could make it early enough. Say, six-thirty? Let me check my calendar.”

She made a big production of flipping through the calendar she kept beside the phone, hoping the sound of the pages turning would carry over the phone lines. She scrolled her finger down the list of errands she’d recorded there and tried to sound breezy.

“Yes, I think I could squeeze you in around six-thirty, but I have to—”

The words caught in her throat when her finger reached the bottom of the page and slid across the unfamiliar handwriting. Written in bold strokes across the white, lined page, she read, “Captain Jack’s, 8 pm. Wear the red.”

Dmitri. She didn’t need to recognize his handwriting to know who had written himself so matter-of-factly into her schedule. Into her life.

“Six-thirty is perfect,” Greg said, shaking her out of her stupor. His voice actually sounded almost relieved and excited at the same time. “I could meet you at that place right down the street from you. Captain Morgan’s?”

“Captain Jack’s,” she corrected, dazed.

“Right, that one. I’ll see you there at six-thirty.” He paused. “Thanks for agreeing to this, Reg. I appreciate you making the time to talk to me after what happened.”

Reggie muttered something even she didn’t understand and hung up the phone with numb fingers. Her mind had already evicted Gregory and busied itself with unpacking Dmitri’s suitcases and tucking his slippers under her bed. Apparently her gut feeling in the shower had been right. She would be seeing Dmitri again, and sooner than she’d thought. Like tonight.

Wear the red
.

Feeling uneasy, as if someone watched her from the corner, Reggie dropped the vacuum and headed for her closet. Reaching inside, she rummaged into the very back and pulled out a sealed garment bag. Her hands ripped open the dark plastic covering and smoothed over the velvet material of the dress it concealed.

Short, tight and unrepentantly crimson, she hadn’t ever actually worn the dress. She’d bought it for the holidays last year, planned to wear it to spice things up with Greg, but that was B.L.—before Lisette. Instead, she’d had it cleaned unnecessarily and sealed it away in the back of her closet like another bad memory. She’d forgotten she owned it, until Dmitri reminded her.

Wear the red
.

He meant this dress; she didn’t own any others in red. With her auburn hair, she tended to think the color clashed, so she avoided it as a general rule. The contents of this garment bag were the exception. But how had he known about it? The bag had been sealed and still hidden where she’d last put it.

The man reads your mind, and you wonder how he knew you owned a red dress?
she asked herself, then answered with a frustrated,
I was trying not to think about the mind reading thing.

Collapsing onto the bed beside the red dress, Reggie groaned. She used to live a nice, ordinary life. Honest. She worked at an ad firm, she hung out with her friends, she dated a financial analyst and she had never let anyone tie her up. But then her boyfriend turned out to be a cheating scum sucker, her friends lost their minds and turned into sex-yentas from hell, and she hooked up with a man who read her mind and persuaded her to reenact the Pornographic Perils of Pauline.

At least the job’s still normal.

“Yeah, I’m the one who’s losing it,” she sighed, finally admitting it out loud. She should probably resign herself to life in a padded cell.

Nothing so drastic. Perhaps merely velvet-lined handcuffs.

The purring voice inside her head sounded so familiar and so impossible Reggie offered the only logical response. She screamed.

Hush,
milaya
, or someone will think you are being murdered.
His voice, impossible as it sounded, laughed at her from inside her mind, and Reggie wondered how this was meant to convince her of her sanity?

Though perhaps they will just think your companion from last night is visiting you again.

“Very funny,” Reggie snapped, glaring into the thin air that Dmitri did
not
occupy. “Where are you, and why are you trying to turn my life into an episode of the
Twilight Zone
?”