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“I’m coming, I just have to pull these other photographs to send to Davidson.”
“Send to the museum?” she said, wondering if she’d heard right.
“You didn’t get them all.”
“I didn’t get them all? What’s going on here?” Her eyes narrowed into a suspicious stare.
He turned to her with his most gracious smile of the night so far.
“I called Davidson a little while ago, should have things straightened out, but,” he looked at her with a deadly glare, “don’t touch my stuff again without consulting with me first. Even if I’m dying.”
“Then everything’s okay, and you just pretended to be furious?”
“It wasn’t pretend, Alexandra.”
“But I haven’t damaged your career?”
“No.”
“So the last two hours have been an elaborate scheme to get me to your dungeon?
“I don’t have to have a scheme to get you there, you’d go willingly. But yes, it was an object lesson, and it was also a nasty ruse.” The delicious twinkle was returning to his eyes.
“You…” Her mind was like an erupting volcano, spewing out every rotten name she could think to call him, and yet, the way he looked at her made her stop before the first slandering reproach was out of her mouth.
“You might have even done me a favor, Alex,” he said, pulling her to him, his arms surrounding her in the first real affectionate gesture of the night. “Just don’t do it again.”
“You put me through all that, scared the shit out of me when you already cleared up the problem?”
“I thought getting scared was part of the rush?” he said. “Or are you going to tell me that you didn’t get everything you wanted?”
It was useless to feel anything but well manipulated and out of control. Since that was the sort of state that gave her the most satisfaction, she decided to shut up and not say another other word. Eventually, before the night was out, he might even untie her bound wrists, and surely there would be more pleasure to pursue before that. They’d just begun to make up for his long absence.
Chapter Nine
“Kevin, you are going to get Mr. Harold’s new saddle for Brutus, are you not?” Jocelyn asked her young gardener.
“I thought that was tomorrow,” he replied.
“No. He wanted the gear today. It’ll take all afternoon and most of the evening going such a distance, you’ll have to leave right away.” Kevin was obviously not happy with the arrangement, but Jocelyn was firm. “Don’t scowl, you look much more handsome with a smile.”
“I’m sorry, ma’am. I was just getting into that garden you wanted me to take care of.”
“But it’ll wait, won’t it?” she replied.
“Sure.” For good measure, he flashed her a pleasant grin before he turned and walked away. And Jocelyn, hearing the doorbell, took off toward the front door.
“You’re not going to get scared, are you?” Jocelyn said as she led Alex through the living room. She watched her friend stare in fascination at the house that held a thousand memories of harrowing sexual theatrics, and cunning lies, and bittersweet days of longing.
“It feels so empty,” Alex said.
“Reg isn’t here.” It was the simplest explanation.
“I know. I can feel in my bones when he is.”
“You can? Really?” Jocelyn was impressed, feeling Reggie’s presence whether in her mind or just somewhere in the near vicinity had become second nature to her. That Alex shared that knack could only be because the sensuous blonde had known him so well. Jocelyn often thought Alex and Reggie were mirrors of the same obsessive personality, one dominant, one submissive, both controlling in their own ways, intriguing, intuitive and with the most bawdy imaginations she’d ever been acquainted with—probably why she loved them both so much. Each brought out different aspects in her own complex sexual nature. Enjoying Alex was becoming as delightful as enjoying her husband.
Alex stared up at the newly installed skylight in the entry thinking how much it lightened the corridors of Reggie’s masculine house.
