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“I can do lunch.”
“I know just the place.” He raised an eyebrow. “Ice cream for dessert?”
“Sounds divine.”
The drive to the restaurant took just under fifteen minutes. She enjoyed the peaceful-looking scenery, but wondered if Cole wouldn’t feel more comfortable in an urban setting. He just seemed like someone who would do better with the heartbeat of a city nearby.
“Here we are,” he said, pulling into a long driveway on a property that looked more residential than commercial.
“Friends of yours?” she asked.
“No, I’ve actually never been here. Daniel told me about it.”
Looking through the tree limbs, she saw a two-story building with a wraparound porch. “A bed and breakfast!”
“I take it you have no objections?”
“No, it’s perfect.” She loved little out-of-the-way places. Few went to the obscure sites, but those who did often returned time and again.
“They make their own ice cream, too.”
“I like it even more.”
He parked the car and walked around to open her door. The inn’s gardens were beautiful, and she pointed out several of her favorite flowers.
“I’ll have to get your input on flowers when I move into my new place,” he said.
Just thinking about helping him with his landscaping made her excited. She pictured the grounds of the house they’d looked at today and the changes she’d make. “I’m not a landscaper, Sir.”
“Maybe not, but I saw the excitement in your eyes when I brought it up just now.”
“You Dominants don’t miss anything,” she huffed.
“If we’re good, we don’t.” They’d made their way to the hostess. “Two for lunch, please.”
After they sat down at a table overlooking the gardens, he passed her a menu. “I’d be honored for you to design my new garden.”
She watched his eyes carefully, but found no hint of untruth. Of course, she’d already been around him enough to know he didn’t lie. So why did she doubt him when it came to her occupation?
“Thank you, Sir.” She spoke around the lump in her throat. “Does that mean you’re going to make an offer on the house we saw today?”
“I think I will. It had everything I was looking for.” He shot her a sexy-as-hell smile. “And those countertops? Perfection.”
“Lot of room, for someone single.” She bit her lip as soon as the words left her mouth, not believing she said them out loud.
He didn’t seem fazed by her outburst. “Probably, but I do like having a lot of space. And it’ll be a good spot for play parties. Not only are there plenty of rooms, but you don’t have to worry about shocking the neighbors with your party outfits.”
She cocked an eyebrow. “I know you aren’t buying a house simply because it’d be handy for parties.”
“Of course not. I want to bend someone over that island and fuck her senseless.”
He said it in all sincerity, though there was still a hint of a smile on his lips.
“You’re serious,” she finally said.
“I usually am.”
She started to read her menu, but he stopped her. “Eyes on me, Sasha.”
She put the menu down and looked up.
“Tell me what you’d wear to the party at my house, little one. And don’t take your eyes off of mine to see if anyone’s listening. That’s my job.”
Damn, he knew her well. She took a deep breath and forced her eyes to remain on his. “I’d wear whatever my Master wanted me to wear.”
“I punish submissives for evasive answers. I asked you the question because I want to know. What would you wear to my play party?”
There was a fantasy she had. It wasn’t like her and she didn’t think she’d ever do it in real life—but if she ever did act it out, it’d be at Cole’s play party.
“I’ve never done this,” she said, “but I’ve always imagined getting dressed up in black lace lingerie. A bra that gives me cleavage, a thong because when it’s worn just right it keeps you aroused, and garters with sheer stockings just because I’d feel sexy as hell.”
He very nearly growled. “If you dressed like that, I’d send everyone home except you.”
She licked her bottom lip, pleased at the way his eyes followed the path of her tongue. Suddenly, she felt bold. “What would we do all alone in your house, Sir?”
“To start with, I’d give you a tour of the kitchen.”
“Oh?” Her pussy throbbed with need.
“Specifically, the island.”
“Would I need to look at it really closely?”
“If I did my job properly, your eyes wouldn’t be able to focus on much of anything.” He cleared his throat and picked up his menu. “Waitress.”
Like she could focus on anything now. But she picked up the menu and tried her best. She ended up going with a chicken salad. To leave room for ice cream, she explained to Cole.
When the waitress left, Sasha knew she had to change the subject away from Cole and his kitchen island. Besides, she knew so little about his past and this was the perfect opportunity.
“When did you know you wanted to be a journalist?” she asked.
He took a sip of water, keeping his gaze on her while he drank. “I knew when I was eleven.”
“Eleven? That young?”
“I discovered it early. Or maybe better stated, it found me.” He leaned back and settled into the seat. “My parents didn’t have much of a marriage. They only got married in the first place because it was expected of them.”
“An arranged marriage?” Did people still do that?
“Very similar, yes. And by the time I was five, my father decided he’d had enough and ran off with his latest mistress. To get back at him, my mother decided to marry her latest boyfriend. Poor decision on her part. The boyfriend was an arse, and my father didn’t care one way or the other. To make it worse, he had a son my age who was an even bigger arse, and a bully, too.”
“I find it hard to believe anyone would bully you, Sir.”
He snorted. “I’ve changed just a little.”
“Sorry to interrupt. Go on.”
“At first it was little things he’d blame on me: frogs in the pantry, salt in the sugar bowl. Everyone believed him because he was a bloody brilliant student and practically perfect.” He shook his head. “Then one day my mum’s jewelry went missing.”
“Uh-oh.”
“Exactly. And this was no normal jewelry. It was jewelry given to my family in the late fifteenth century. It was almost lost when one of my ancestors pissed off Henry the Eighth—”
“Wait a minute. The Henry the Eighth?”
He laughed softly. “There’s only one, right?”
“Wow.”
“Don’t be too impressed. We lost our title as a result of that, but some quick thinker hid the jewelry. So we held on to it.”
“At least until Asshole Kid showed up.”
“Right, and I decided it was time the world knew his true colors. I did some investigative reporting. Talked to the household help, the neighbors, everyone. A week later I presented my report to my mother.”
“Pretty inventive for an eleven-year-old. What happened?”
“He denied it, of course, but the jewelry showed up the next morning.” He looked past her to something behind her. “Mum knew the truth, though. And I fell in love with writing.”
The waitress delivered their entrees, and they didn’t speak until she left.
“Ever think about writing a novel?” Sasha asked, cutting her salad.
