What She's Looking For (7 page)

Parker winced as the scalding coffee
burned his lips. At least the pain helped him wake up, if nothing else.

Drake sat at the butcher’s block
wolfing down a bowl of cereal, the morning light slashing brilliance across the
dimness of the kitchen. Parker leaned against the counter, looking out the
window. He could see the house from there.

Her house.

He knew it was an extraordinarily
bad sign that the first thing he thought of when he woke that morning, was of
the alabaster perfection of her smooth thighs, the softness of her skin beneath
his fingers. It was especially worrisome considering the fact that the night
before he’d slipped off to sleep with the image of her half-lidded eyes dancing
in his mind. Not good.

“You think she’s sick?” Drake sat
back, dropping his spoon into the empty bowl. He squinted against the sunlight
washing over his dark features.

“It would be a miracle if she’s not
worshipping the porcelain god as we speak.” Parker shook his head at the image
of his poor girl kneeling on the bathroom floor, throwing up, him standing
behind her, rubbing her back with one hand while he held her hair back with the
other.

“I like her, Park. But she’s
hiding.” Drake stood, stretching his massive arms over his head, groaning.

Parker snorted. “Can you blame her?
A room full of testosterone? I say she did pretty damned good, all things
considered.”

“It was more than that, and you
know it.”

“Maybe, maybe not.” Parker sat down
his coffee mug.

“You like her.”

Parker nodded. He wasn’t about to
admit just how
much
he liked her though. Not yet anyway.

“So why are you here talking to me
then?” Drake grinned. “You losing the touch, old man?”

“You’re a year younger than me,
asswipe.”

Drake waved a dismissive hand, his
eyes glittering in the sunlit room.

Parker turned toward him. “Look, I
know you saw it that first day. We all saw it last night — even Erik, though
he’s too stupid to realize it. If she’s the one, do you still want to do this?
We haven’t talked about this in … a while.”

It was Drake’s turn to nod, his
dark eyes serious once more. “Question is, are we seeing something real there,
or just what we want to see?”

“I don’t know Drake, but you might
be right about last night. I’ll be careful, but I’m gonna make damn sure I find
out.”

“I thought you would.” Drake walked
to the sink and dropped his bowl in. “I’m driving Erik back to Seattle today. I’ll probably be back tomorrow night.”

Parker winked at his friend. “Paying
a visit so soon? I’m sure the place has done just fine without you, big guy.
Meatheads to run security are a dime a dozen.”

“Fuck off,” Drake muttered, as he
walked out of the kitchen.

Parker heard the bathroom door in
the hallway close.

He knew where Drake would be
tomorrow night. He knew his best friend missed some of the people there, missed
the energy. Truth be told, Parker never liked it that much, though he’d never
tell his friend that. Clubs were too much of a contrivance, a front. Play.

He wasn’t interested in just play.
Never had been. He needed more, needed a
lot
more than most clubs would
be comfortable with. More than that, he wanted to be able to concentrate. There
was too much distraction (pleasant or otherwise) at a place like Sanctum. A
good Dom — a good Master — took the time to focus on one thing. His submissive.
His slave. Everything else was bullshit.

Drake walked back into the kitchen,
punching something into his phone.

“So.” Parker crossed his arms over
his chest. “If we’re really going to do this, what about him?”

Drake looked up at him.

“Yeah, Erik,” Parker said, holding
out a hand. “We haven’t really decided on that yet, Drake.”

“I think he could be ready — if we
do it right.”

“He’s young. He doesn’t know shit.”
Parker thought about how incredibly clueless he’d been at Erik’s age, and it
made him shudder. Too stupid to even know how clueless he was. The blissful
ignorance of youth, to not know what you didn’t know.

“True. But he has the instinct.
We’ve talked a little bit about it.”

Parker’s brows lifted. “He talked —
to you?”

Drake flashed him a sharp look. “Why
wouldn’t he?”

“You’re not exactly Mr. Warmth, Drake.
If I’d known he had questions about it I could’ve talked to him myself.”

“Think he sees me as a big brother.”

“More like a Dad.” Parker laughed.

“Blow me.” Drake leaned against the
butcher’s block, continuing to punch information into his phone. “He just
started asking me about it, one day. We were in line for a movie of all places.”

“Sounds like a kid all right,”
Parker said, shaking his head.

“Yeah, not the best place. Still,
what he asked was surprising.”

Parker looked at him again.

“He asked the right questions,
Park. I think he’s interested. He knows … some of what it’s about.”

Parker had wondered about it since
Drake had suggested it the first time. The possibility of sharing a submissive
… and bringing Erik in on it as well. At first he’d written it off as an upset
Drake not really thinking though what it might mean. The trouble with Kimber
had just started to get worse. Then Parker had thought about it some more. The
idea of training Erik
did
actually have some appeal, if they could find
the right woman. He guessed that Drake had hopes Kimber might work out (and not
just for that reason), but Parker knew that she would have been nothing but a
pain in the ass.

Erik deserved to learn the ropes
(so to speak) with a real woman. A real submissive. Not some flighty gold
digger who liked the occasional bottom warming. If things had gone a different
way, Sandra would have been a good candidate. Maybe she hadn’t really gone that
far with Parker once they’d parted, but he knew she had the way of it. A woman who
could be guided down that path, the right way.

“Lets talk about it with him when
he’s back next week,” Parker said. “I still don’t even know what we have here
yet, so I don’t want us to get ahead of ourselves.”

Drake grunted, and walked into the
foyer, pulling his dark coat on. “Going down to Wenatchee. You feel like riding
along?”

Parker thought about it. Saturdays
usually saw Drake heading out shooting or watching college football. A trip to Wenatchee was unusual. He could think of only one reason Drake would head that way.

Parker glanced out the window. Then
his expression darkened and he stared at Drake. “Who are we visiting?”

Drake’s brow furrowed. “It’s not
Kimber. Just picking up a few things. Not that it’s any of your fucking
business.”

“Oh, in that case, I’m in. Let me
get a shower and we can roll.”

Drake opened the front door, the
coolness of the morning air flooding the entryway.

“Hey, Drake? I just got an idea.”

Drake looked back over his
shoulder, frowning. “Oh shit, here we go.”

“Go find Jed for me , will ya? He’s
coming with us too.”

“Why the hell are we bringing the
dog?”

Parker beamed. “Need his opinion on
something. I’ll be out in a few.

Chapter Eight

A
shley felt like an idiot after that
dinner she’d had with all of them. So she kept her distance, always mindful of
one of her favorite aphorisms from Mark Twain: “It is better to keep your mouth
shut and appear stupid rather than to open it and remove all doubt.”

What a way to make a first
impression with them. But she kicked herself for even thinking that way. Why
did she think she even needed to
make
an impression? She wasn’t trying
to impress anyone, was she?

She feared she was probably kidding
herself if her answer to that question was ‘no’.

So she immersed herself in trying
to get her life back together. Working for something, achieving, striving.
Those were all laudable things — especially in the service of helping to get
her out of her own head.

One of the hidden benefits of
working in real estate, were the number of places you got to visit, the little
corners of the world she’d never otherwise see. Every town had them, and Chelan
was no different. The one place that most touched her though, the place she
came back to often, was the memorial on the south shore of Lake Chelan.

In 1945, a school bus carrying more
than a dozen children had skidded off of the road during a snowstorm, and slid
into the icy waters off the south shore. Only a handful of the kids on board, along
with one adult, escaped with their lives. The bus was eventually recovered from
a rocky ledge, a couple hundred feet below the surface, with some of the dead,
including the bus driver, still inside. What bothered her the most was that
some of the bodies were never found, forever lost to the lake that was over a
thousand feet deep in places. The thought of that accident haunted her, and it
was evident that it still haunted the town of Chelan more than sixty-five years
later.

Ashley couldn’t help the tears that
welled in her eyes as she’d stood by that monument, the noise of the traffic on
the road behind her lost to her perception, watching the placid waters of the
lake, knowing that some of those babies were never found. She’d never had
children, but she didn’t know how she’d ever be able to go on after losing a
child, let alone two. Some of the dead were lost with their siblings.

A hand clasped her shoulder and she
jumped in her chair. Her boss Debbie smiled down at her, a cup of coffee in her
hand.

“You have a call waiting for you,”
she said, setting the cup down on Ashley’s desk. She had really gotten lucky
with Debbie. Ashley had told her new manager some of why she’d suddenly
relocated out west, but not all of it. Debbie was sympathetic and kind — two
great attributes to have in a boss.

Ashley punched her phone line. “Ashley
Dietrich, how can I help you?”

“You could help me by keeping me
company on Friday.”

She was stunned for a moment. Who
was it? Her heart raced momentarily, thinking maybe Terry had found her number.
Found her. Then she had it.

“Parker? Hi.” She winced at the
uncertainty she let slip into her voice.

Of course it’s him, you idiot.

“I need to talk to you. Someone
else answered the phone. Are you somewhere you can talk?”

“Ah, not really.” She looked over
toward Debbie’s office door. It was wide open, and she could hear her boss
typing away within. “I’m sure it’s fine, though. What do you need to talk
about? You raising my rent?”

“It’s about last Friday. What
happened after dinner.”

“Oh.” Her heart began to gallop.
Did something happen? She didn’t remember anything, but then being piss drunk
tends to fog one’s memory of events.

“I have something to ask of you. A
proposal, of sorts.”

Ashley stood up, cursing as she
banged her knee on the drawer of her desk. “Damn! Okay, let me step outside and
find someplace. This office is rather, um, cozy.”

She didn’t think Debbie would
listen in, but the place was so cramped, she knew she’d probably be able to
hear everything whether she wanted to or not.

There was a small park across the
street, not much more than a jungle gym and slide, with a few benches. It would
have to do, and since it was deserted at midday on a school day, there’d be
nobody around. She plopped down on one of the benches, the crisp, cool air
making her regret not bringing her hot coffee.

“What’s up. Parker? I had fun last
Friday. Thank you again for inviting me. I’m sorry I haven’t—”

“I want you to have dinner with me
Friday night, but there’s something we should talk about first.”

She was about to tell him to slow
down, that he was being just a
tad
presumptuous. He hadn’t even asked
her if she wanted to go! Her feminism was showing, but she knew deep down it
didn’t matter. She’d say yes, and go anyway. Because he wanted her there.

“Ashley, I need to be straight with
you here. I’m too old for games or dancing around things.”

“Okay.”

“I’m attracted to you. Very
attracted to you.”

She felt her mouth go dry, and a
giddy sense of elation build in her. She tamped it down ruthlessly.

Keep it cool, girl.

“I think you feel the same about
me. I want to see if there’s something there, something between us. Are you
willing to see if there is?”

Arrogant jerk. Arrogant 100%
correct jerk. She licked her lips, trying to get them to moisten.

“Umm. Parker maybe we—”

“Are you attracted to me, Ashley?”

He wasn’t letting her hem and haw
over this one. Dammit.

“Yes,” she whispered, blushing,
grateful that there was nobody else around to witness it. “Parker, it’s not
that simple though.”

“You seem to enjoy reminding me of
that, Ashley.”

She could sense the smile in his
voice. He was pleased, and it helped to momentarily ratchet down the tension
she felt stealing into her limbs. She crossed her legs, feeling the cold of the
autumn air on her inner thighs. She needed to rethink skirts for this late in
the year.

“I just got out of a relationship.”
She rubbed her temple with her fingertips. She had no reason to be embarrassed
by this, but she was nonetheless. Why couldn’t she just get the fuck over it
and go on with her life?

You know why.

“And?” His voice was even, the
inflection giving nothing away.

“I … look, I need to be honest with
myself here. I don’t want to be rebound girl. You know what I mean?” She
shivered as a gust of wind blew the chill up her shirt. Definitely pants
tomorrow.

“What makes you think I might be
just a rebound? Because you just broke up with someone?”

“Maybe. I just — I’m not sure of
anything anymore, Parker. I like you, I really do. I just don’t want to screw
things up.”

“As long as you’re honest, you can’
screw anything up. You worry too much, you know that?. I think you need
somebody else to start worrying for you. Now, I want you to listen to this.”

Ashley stilled at his words. She
wasn’t sure whether to tell him to go fuck himself or rattle off a ‘Yes, Sir’.
She knew which one her brain wanted to choose; other parts of her body didn’t
agree with that choice.

“I’m a sexual dominant.”

Of all the things she thought he’d
say, that one was not even close. She could feel her pulse pounding at the
hollows of her collarbones.

“I have a need to control. I’m
looking for a submissive who
needs
that control. I’m done with vanilla
relationships. I want that submissive, and life is too short to not go after
what I want. Do you understand what I’m saying to you?”

She’d never heard him like this. It
was completely unlike who she’d gotten to know. But then it started to fall
into place. The little things, subtle hints. The way he looked at her when
she’d dropped by to see the house a little early. The way he stood a little too
close to her, looming, crowding her space that first time they’d met. He was
probably looking to see if she’d step back, avert her gaze.

She’d done neither.

“I think so, Parker. I need—”

“Do you think this is something you
might want to explore?”

She sat forward on the bench,
curling her body slightly over herself. It was a ridiculous display of self
consciousness, but at that moment it felt like the entire town must be looking
at her. Judging her. Labeling her as the slut she felt like just at the
thoughts his words were eliciting within her.

She knew she was stupid to even be
considering it. Out of the frying pan and into the fire. Way to go, Ashley. Her
body wasn’t listening as usual. Her nipples were hard as stones against the
knit cotton top she wore — and it wasn’t just because of the cool breeze. She
was thankful she’d chosen to wear the suit jacket that morning.

“Ashley, answer me please.”

“Parker … “

“You’re worrying too much again.
Yes, or no?”

She sighed. “Yes.”

Ashley could almost feel the
tension slacken over the line. Maybe it was just her body relaxing, resigning
itself to the possibilities. Something she thought she’d never want again,
never want to even think about.

Her moistening pussy was telling a
different story.

Parker continued. “The Barham
Winery in Entiat. Do you know where that is?”

“I think so.” She swallowed. “Few
minutes north of Wenatchee?”

“That’s right. I’m going to give
you a choice. You can follow my direction, or you can choose not to.”

She was silent, warring within
herself on whether or not to back out.

“Do you have any dresses?”

“What?”

“Listen, Ashley,” he said, his
voice deeper. “Do you own any dresses?”

“Uh, I have a black one, yeah. Why?”

“I’ll be at the restaurant at the
Barham Winery, Friday evening. I want you there at nine o’clock, wearing your
black dress.”

“Okay.” She was disgusted with
herself. She should’ve said something,
anything
, but that.

“If you have heels, I want you in
them. I’d like you to wear your hair up, and no make-up. You don’t need any.”

“Parker, why are you saying this?
What’s going on here?”

“A choice, Ashley. A little test.
If you follow my directions then I’ll know you’re serious about seeing where
this could go.”

She felt an absurd blush return
again, and she defiantly turned her chin up into the cool wind, willing the
heat to recede. She was acting like a fucking schoolgirl. But his words had an
effect on her, whether she wanted to acknowledge it or not.

“What if I don’t, Parker? What
happens then?”

“Then nothing. We will have
nothing.”

“Just landlord and tenant? As if we
never had this conversation?” She was shaking her head. This was not even in
the realm of possibility for her. He had to be kidding,

“Something like that, Ashley. If
you don’t, then we can’t.”

“Look, Parker, maybe we could just
have lunch or something? No pressure, take it easy on the new girl?”

“No.”

“Parker, wait. What if I can’t do
this? Could we just go back to being friends?”

There was a pause on the line, then
she heard Parker sigh. “Every time I look at you I know I could never be just
friends with you. Nine o’clock, Ashley. I’ll be there, and I hope you will be
too.”

There was click as the line went
dead.

She banged the cell phone against
the side of her head, and she grit her teeth, “Not again, not again, dammit!”

She didn’t know whether she wanted
to throw her phone into the street or jump for joy.

* * *