Reluctant Surrender (7 page)

She didn’t want to think about how intimate that sounded. How close to an actual power exchange the concept was or how little she had thought this all through. Because there was no way she was going to tell Jo that her normal, control-freak friend was working on pure instinct now.

“All right,” she grumbled. “On to problem number two. Why do I get stuck with Casper? With Doc still in Europe until the twenty seventh, I thought it was Marnie’s turn to babysit him.”

“No. Don’t you remember she and Lil did it when I went to New York?”

“That was only for two days.”

“Luck of the draw, sorry. Gee, all you have to do is check in on him. He’ll be staying with his sister.”

“I know, the poor bastard, she’s a crotchety old bitch. Maybe he’ll get lucky and suffer another bout of angina. It would be a good time for another hospital stay.”

“Jo.”

“It’s true. He’d be better off even if he had to camp out in the ER. The guy might bug the shit out of me with his caterwauling about how times have changed, but I hate it when he gets hen-pecked by that shriveled-up male-slayer.”

Colin yanked the suitcase off the bed and dropped it to the floor with a
thud
. “Wow, why don’t you tell me how you really feel?”

“Collie?”

“Yeah?”

“Besides the post series, there isn’t another reason you’ve chosen to go through with this, is there?”

She didn’t dare look at her when she replied, “No.”

“I won’t think less of you.”

Now she looked at her. “Meaning?”

Jo beamed. “Meaning if you return from this adventure a little kinky, I won’t mind, but I will expect you to teach me everything you’ve learned, okay?”

Colin attempted a smooth nod, but it came off curt and stilted because Jo had hit on the exact reason Colin suspected she’d agreed to this craziness. To learn and not for her readers…

* * * * *

Later that night just as Colin got into bed, her phone beeped. She settled between the cool sheets and debated on whether to check the text. She knew it was Jo, probably razzing her with one more excuse not to go tomorrow. Then her eyes snapped open.

What if it were Casper? Despite the fact that she’d delivered him to his sister’s this afternoon, technically she was still on duty and the man-slayer stayed up late.

“Dammit.”

She snatched up the phone and pressed enter.

Are you in bed?

Her reply was automatic.
Yes.
The minute she pressed send she realized who she was texting. It was Ethan White.

Do you always answer your phone when you’re in bed?

Ha! So what if she did.
Yes.

Great, I’ll have to remember that…

Her heart hammered and those muscles low in her belly and between her legs jerked and ached. Before she could think of a reply to that he sent another one.

Tomorrow, I want you to go to the boathouse behind the mansion. We’ll be staying there.

The boathouse? Both of them?
Why?

The pause was so long she jumped when his text finally arrived with his answer.
Because I told you to go there.

She read it twice. Probably because she had a mixed reaction to it. On the one hand she liked how confident he was, but on the other she wanted to shoot back the coordinates to where he could go. Six, six, six—straight to hell. She drew in a breath and then let it out in an aggravated huff. She’d be the bigger person.
That would be fine. What time do you want me there?

First thing. Nine.

No sooner did she press the O for okay when her phone beeped again.

And, Colin, I’m proud of you for biting your finger and not texting what you really wanted to say.

She couldn’t help it, she laughed.
Had to bite my finger. You don’t like it when I bite my nails.

I’m glad you noticed that. You have elegant hands.

How crazy was this? She was lying in the dark all by herself and she was blushing to the roots of her hair.
Thanks.

You are most welcome.

I’ll see you tomorrow.

I want you to see me tonight. Dream about me. Good night.

She read those words and gasped. Quickly, before she changed her mind and did something stupid, like text him back, she put the phone down on her nightstand and pushed it as far away from her as possible. Settling under the blankets, she couldn’t get his words out of her head.

“How did he know?”

Ever since the night of the opening she’d not only been dreaming about him, but fantasizing as well. Day, night, morning, afternoon and even when she volunteered at the Salvation Army on Tuesday. Selma Murdock went into one of her long spiels about sweet potato casserole and all she could think of was how great Ethan’s sweet ass would look in a pair of well-worn blue jeans. By the time Selma got to the part in the recipe where it called for mini-marshmallows she had Ethan in those jeans and out of them—

Ugh. She pulled a pillow over her face and screamed into it. Maybe Jo was right. Maybe she was insane.

Chapter Four

Colin tossed her duffle bag down on the gravel drive and examined the boathouse. Last night when Ethan texted to tell her they’d be staying here instead of at the mansion, she’d been relieved. Now she wasn’t so sure. The place was bigger than she’d thought and it scared the ever-living hell out of her for no other reason than she knew the devil waited for her inside. But then recalling all her dreams she had to admit the guy was definitely sin-worthy material.

Well, she’d made her pact and despite how many stellar points her best friend had cited to talk her out of it, she’d come as promised. A smile hovered on her lips as she recalled how Jo had accused her of being delusional and likened her agreeing to this ten-day-long sleepover with Master Dreamy to a weak-willed dieter camping out in a bakery.

Personally, Colin thought her friend should have more faith in her. What was another ten days of abstinence compared to the three years, four months and sixteen days she’d already managed? With all that success behind her, the less-than-a-two-week stint in front of her should be a piece of cake. But then she recalled the lump of pudding he’d reduced her to the day they were locked in together and wanted to hang Jo for her bakery analogy. It was only making her hungry, and not for food.

She sighed and leaned back against her car. Taking a gander at his sexy-looking ride parked on the only paved part of the gravel drive, she snorted. He probably had the area specifically laid with concrete because he didn’t want his precious sports number damaged by the rocks. He seemed like the type of guy who took care of his things. Why that should intrigue her was a mystery.

He probably takes good care of his women.

Mystery solved. Tamping down the blooming thrill that notion created, she plucked up her duffle and mentally repeated the mantra of “Ethan White is just a guy” over and over as she headed for the door. The hope was that she’d believe it by the time she got there, but no luck.

“Good morning, Colin.”

Drinking in the sight of him, she wanted to accuse him of purposely trying to entice her, because enticed she was, but there was nothing to hold up as evidence. The beige, loose-fitting shirt opened at the collar, highlighting the bronze tone of his skin was probably off-the-rack Armani. However, with the sleeves rolled up to band his massive forearms and the rest of the garment tucked into insanely molded-against-him jeans, the outfit looked custom made. She doubted there was another guy on the planet who could look this good in the same ensemble.

She swallowed. “Hi.”

“Come in.”

The silent echo of “said the spider to the fly” screamed in her mind and she hesitated. He must have noticed because he took her bag with one hand and pulled her through the doorway with the other, saying, “I’m glad you’re here.”

That made one of them.

“Before I get you settled I think we should have a talk.”

“Talk?”

She followed along behind him until the hallway opened up to the living area. It was a huge room that boasted a large kitchen overlooking the family room. The main attraction there? Wall-to-wall windows that gave up panoramic views of the lake. Beautiful.

“Wow, what a view.” Turning to her right, she whistled. “Great kitchen too.”

“Thanks. I just had it remodeled.”

She scanned the expansive countertops. All that tiger-eye granite gleaming under the halogen pendant lighting set off the shine of each of the pristine stainless steel appliances. This was her kind of kitchen. The kind of kitchen she’d never be able to afford even if she did manage to outbid the other buyers for her dream. “It must have cost a fortune.”

Making her way to the pantry cabinets that lined the back wall, she ran a hand over the cherry-wood doors. Any cook worth their salt would kill to have this space to create in. It was perfect, right down to the center island that looked like a stylish piece of furniture with both water and electric fed to it. What a luxury. And the cooktop? It had eight gas burners for heaven’s sake and a faucet right over the back ones to fill pots with water for vegetables or pasta or whatever. She nearly melted, and she probably would have, but his response pulled her out of her Julia Child fantasy.

“Fortune? I hadn’t really thought about cost. You know what they say, if you have to ask, you can’t afford it.”

She dropped her hand away from the burner as if someone had turned it on. Hadn’t thought about cost? He couldn’t be serious. To her mind, a person always looked for a discount no matter how rich they were. Covertly, she studied him, thinking maybe there was a designer in the wings. Yes, he probably had a design—

“I probably should’ve hired a designer, but I thought what the hell, I have the time so…” He left off with a shrug. A lock of his hair fell across an eye and he didn’t bother to sweep it back. It made him look approachable, softer somehow.

“You chose all this yourself?” She walked to the under-the-counter mounted sink and murmured, “It’s not only beautiful, but totally functional.”

“You’ve discovered one of my pet peeves in life.” He grinned.

“I did?” She’d been so distracted watching his thick biceps flex and bunch it took her a moment to comprehend what he’d said. Spying the humor dancing in his eyes it occurred to her. “Oh.” Her eyes widened. “Oh! I take it you like functioning beauties.”

Now he swept that hair back and there was nothing shielding her from his intense gaze. “Sometimes.”

What was that supposed to mean? She opened her mouth to ask, but he abruptly turned away and headed down the hall off to the left. “Your room is this way. I’ve decided you can unpack first and then we’ll talk.”

Well, that was nice of him, but maybe she didn’t feel like unpacking right now. She watched his exit. Enjoying another stunning view. This one came in the shape of his butt, which filled out his jeans something fierce.

“Are you coming?” He turned so fast she was treated to an eyeful of crotch. Oh dear.

Tearing her gaze away, she decided to do as he suggested and called, “Yes, yes, I’m coming.” She’d die if he noticed. “My room’s this way?” she asked, looking up at him.

Damn, he’d noticed all right, his smile was ear to ear.

“Yeah, you’re on this side of the main room and I’m on the other.” Heading down the hall, he stopped in front of a set of double doors and she blew out a huge sigh of relief.

“That’s terrific.” When he had a hand on the knob, but didn’t push it open, she was curious. “What’s the matter?”

“Colin, did you honestly think I was going to try to force you to share a room? Or more precisely, my bed?”

Her first instinct was to fib, but she knew he’d know if she did. So she chose a safer route. She nodded and shrugged at the same time, figuring he could take from that what he wanted. Unfortunately he took something all right.

“I’m not a lecher.” She had to strain to catch that exasperated mumble before he added, louder this time, “I’m not going to force you to do anything you don’t want to do. Do you understand?”

His look was dead sexy, just as Jo had pointed out, and intense. She gulped and tried to form an answer, but all she could muster was a series of quick nods.

“Good.”

But to her mind there was nothing good about this situation. Deep inside she knew, had she been given a choice in the matter she’d rather have him trying to force her than not because that’s what she’d prepared for. This whole free will thing was unsettling.

He flung open the doors and stalked inside. God, what a back he had. It was an inverted triangle. A huge inverted triangle, she amended, that topped slim and totally come-touch-me hips. The zing of desire that snaked through her was like an electric current, lighting up all her sensitive places until it settled with a smoldering zap between her thighs. When he deposited her bag beside the king-sized bed she wanted to turn tail and run. What was she going to do now? She’d rather have to fight him than try and fail fighting herself.

Suddenly he towered over her. “Unpack your things and meet me in the great room. I don’t want you needlessly worried about our time together.” He pulled her chin up and their eyes locked as his thumb brushed a gentle path along her jawline. “Be quick.” His gaze roamed over her, pausing on her primly buttoned blouse. “I like this color blue. It suits you.”

In an instant he was gone and she was left standing there nearly hyperventilating. So pleased by his unexpected compliment that she was fairly beaming. She couldn’t contain the surge of giddiness that swept through her. It was so strong she almost giggled and that’s when she realized agreeing to this was a mistake. A Big. Big. Mistake. Because she’d given up giggling in fifth grade after Bobby Fenwick dumped her for Lucy Becker because she gave dry kisses and Colin gave wet ones. Even at that young age she’d learned giggling was the first segue to heartbreak.

* * * * *