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“Yes. Doctors aren’t real people who exist outside of the hospital. Didn’t you know?”
“I remember running into my pediatrician in a grocery store when I was a kid. Totally freaked me out that he had a wife with him and Doritos in his cart.” She waved a hand. “Come on, the kitchen’s through here.”
Theo followed, quickly taking in his surroundings. The house was old, based on the door casings and the original hardwood floors, but everything looked fresh and updated. White walls and art hanging everywhere. Sheer curtains and funky lamps. A bright blue couch with colored pillows. Daring choices. All of it should’ve looked out of place in the cottage, but somehow it worked. Just like Maggie—edgy and down home all at once.
Maggie bumped a light switch with her elbow, illuminating the kitchen. The space was cozy—small but bright with white cabinets and butcher-block countertops. It looked lived in and well loved—so unlike the stark utilitarian kitchen at his place. A ridiculous amount of vegetables were piled in a bowl in the middle of one counter and a stack of cookbooks sat beside it.
He strolled over as Maggie turned on the coffeepot, and he picked up a beet from the bowl. “Your doctor would approve. Looks like you’re getting your five a day.”
She peered over her shoulder and grinned. “I grow all that stuff out back. Can take the girl off the farm but not the farm out the girl, I guess.”
“Farm girl, huh? How’d a girl from the farm end up an artist and dominatrix?”
She went to the fridge and pulled out a half gallon of milk. “A wicked-strong rebellious streak for the art. And a run-in with an asshole boyfriend in college for the dominance.”
He lowered himself onto the stool by the counter. “Run-in?”
“Yeah. I went through a serious ugly-duckling phase in high school. Braces, bad skin, extra weight, the whole thing. By college, most of that had improved but not the self-esteem problem that came along with it. I found a guy who was happy to exploit those insecurities.” She gave him a humorless smile. “It took a trip to the hospital and a firm talking-to by a doctor to get it through my skull that a man should respect me and that shoving your girlfriend to the sidewalk hard enough to break her wrist is not an appropriate response to being late for a date.”
Theo frowned, his fingers curling into fists even though this transgression against her was clearly a long time ago.
“After that, I raised my standards. Eventually, I figured out I really, really liked being in control and that men who wanted me to have it were the kind who flipped my switches.”
He considered her. “Because we’re safe.”
She smiled and poured the coffee, then set a full cup in front of him. “No, because you’re the most dangerous. That’s where the edge comes from. Nothing is more volatile than a proud man made vulnerable. It’s why that guy hit me all those months ago. He couldn’t handle it. Only the strong ones survive it. And it’s a huge turn-on to know that a powerful man has put that kind of faith in me—that he’ll let me see him the way the world never does.
“Plus, the kind of attitude it takes to be a submissive guy feeds my love of rebellion. That’s a man who isn’t afraid to give the world and its expectations for him a big, fat middle finger.”
Her eyes never left his the whole time she spoke, and Theo’s body took notice. He cleared his throat. “I’ve never heard anyone put it that way.”
Her lips curved, and she slid a small sugar bowl toward him. “So same question back at ya. How’s a big-time surgeon figure out that he likes to submit?”
Theo looked down at his cup, focusing on adding a spoonful of sugar to it instead of having to hold the eye contact. This woman saw too much too easily in him. “I’ve always liked strong women. And the masochistic streak has probably always been there. I mean, I did choose to go to med school.”
She laughed. “Good point.”
He could’ve left it there, deflected. But for some reason, he wanted to be just as honest with her as she had been with him even though he’d never talked about it aloud with anyone. “I figured out the masochism thing in college. When I used to get overwhelmed in school, I’d go to the gym and box. The best way for me to purge stress was through exertion and pain and pushing myself past what I thought I could take. It gave me this high—all the adrenaline, that victory in surviving it. Only when I got matched up with a mean-ass female trainer did I realize that the feeling could become sexual.” He smirked. “I grew up in an affluent family. I was used to people treating me like I was some sort of royalty. But this woman talked to me like I was scum on her shoe if I didn’t perform how she wanted. It pushed some button in me. My hand got quite a workout those few weeks I trained with her.”
He looked up and Maggie was sipping her coffee, evaluating him with a hint of humor in her eyes. “That’s hot. Young college Theodore in the gym showers dreaming about his drill sergeant trainer. I should’ve brought a whistle to one of our sessions. I could’ve done the whole Kelly LeBrock routine from Weird Science.”
“Shit.” Images of Maggie dressed up in snug workout gear, twirling a whistle and barking commands, filled his mind. “You might’ve just blown teenage Theo’s mind into bits.”
“Ha. Teenage Maggie agrees. I so had a thing for the one who played Wyatt in that movie. Guess that should’ve been a sign for me then that I wanted a smart boy who’d let me be in charge, but it took a lot more years for that to sink in. At least you figured it out early. Probably saved yourself some grief.”
“I wouldn’t say that. I saw the masochism as a separate thing—a thing only for my private fantasy life, not something to act on. I dated vanilla girls, married one.”
The last part slipped out and his heart seemed to stop for a second. His hands tightened around his coffee cup.
Maggie’s brows lifted. “You were married?”
He coughed
, trying to get his throat muscles to work. “Yeah. Lori was killed in a drunk-driving accident about seven years ago.”
“Oh my God, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”
“It’s okay. No one around here does. We were living in Oregon at the time.” He took a long sip of his coffee, uncomfortable with the turn the conversation had taken. Once again, he’d let his guard down and stepped into deeper waters than he’d intended. “Thanks for the coffee. I probably should get back on the roads before they get any worse.”
