She's All Tied Up: Club 3, Book 2 Page 9

  He slid out of her car, but she leaned over before he could shut the door. “Jake? Thank you. Again.”

  “Anytime, baby.”

  He closed the door, and Carlie sank back in her seat, one hand to her chest, where she was pretty sure her heart was melting. “Anytime, baby.” The same words he’d used at Zellaby’s. If there was a woman alive who could resist those words in his deep voice…well, it sure wasn’t her.

  Jake tapped the top of her car in a clear command to start it up. She obeyed and watched as he crossed the small lot, a large, confident figure in her headlights. He swung up into his truck, the taillights came on, and she drove sedately out of the lot, around the corner by Big Iron and out onto the boulevard.

  She was smiling to herself as she drove. This evening had started out pretty crappy, but it had turned out to be what she thought might just be one of the best nights of her life.

  Or so she hoped.

  Evidence to the contrary—like her mother, Tiffany and Gerry—it seemed there were men who liked the way she looked, and even her admittedly goofy sense of humor. Incredibly hot men. And this incredibly hot man wanted to tie her up and have his way with her.

  She could hardly wait.

  Jake leaned on a low retaining wall outside the Bentwood Arms condominiums in Beaverton. He wasn’t real impressed with the place, although he fuckin’ loved the name, because he was here to do a little arm-bending himself. But then he wasn’t real impressed with the tenant he was here to see either.

  Number Eleven, a ground-floor unit behind him, was the residence of one Gerald H. Sterns, computer tech services salesman for EbiTeck Incorporated. He’d discovered Gerald drove last year’s model blue Mustang convertible, so this must be him turning in to a parking slot to Jake’s left.

  It was twilight, past ten o’clock in the evening, and cloudy. The Bentwood Arms had lights in their parking area, but they also had some mature oaks the contractors had no doubt worked around to satisfy county conservation codes. Jake stood in the deep shadow of one now, and so would Gerald be as soon as he stepped up onto the sidewalk. Right about…now.

  “You Gerry?” Jake asked.

  The dude stopped dead, proving he hadn’t even noticed Jake in his dark shirt and jeans. Definitely a civilian.

  The slim man in shorts and T-shirt took a step back, holding his tennis racket case before him and looking around nervously—for witnesses or help, no doubt. Jake was pleased neither were available. He’d come prepared to play the encounter by ear, but this was gonna be like shooting fish in a fuckin’ barrel. The dude thought he'd defend himself with a tennis racket?

  “Who wants to know?”

  “I’m a friend of Carlie Milton’s.”

  Jake watched Gerry’s eyes widen at this news. He took another step back, and Jake grasped him by one arm, yanking him into the dark under the tree. “What’s the matter, Gerald? You think there’s somethin’ I might be upset about?” he asked.

  “Ah—no.” The dude was trembling and Jake could smell the sharp stench of nervous sweat. “Hell no. I’m just her coworker. Hey, let go of me. You can’t manhandle me like this. I’ll have the police on you so fast—”

  Jake chuckled. He grabbed the tennis racket Gerry was jamming against his chest and flung it away, over the cars into the parking lot. It landed with a clatter somewhere. Then he grabbed the man firmly by the throat and leaned in.

  “Now see, I was kind of hopin’ you’d say that, you little prick. ’Cause here’s the deal. You call the police, and I go to your boss—lay it all out for him. How you disrespected a valued female employee with sexual slurs in front of her coworkers, to the point she felt her only way out was to run away from a company-sponsored function. And how she’s thinkin’ about gettin’ a lawyer, a woman lawyer who has made quite a name for herself prosecuting claims like this.” Okay, so he was making up the lawyer, but he was betting he could find one similar to his description. Lots of litigation-happy folks out there.

  Gerry struggled, making a strangled sound in his throat, and Jake loosened his grip. “Oh, sorry, Ger, am I holdin’ you too tight? I don’t wanna do that, ’cause I want you to be able to nod your head. Here’s what you’re gonna do. Tomorrow morning, first thing, you’re gonna march yourself into the EbiTeck offices and you’re gonna apologize to Carlie, in front of her colleagues. Nod if you got that, Ger.”

  His body shaking harder, Gerry nodded.

  Jake patted him on the shoulder with his free hand. “Good, good. And, Ger, you’re not gonna disrespect Carlie or any other women again, are you? ’Cause if you do and I hear about it, I am not gonna be happy. And I know you don’t want to make me unhappy, do ya, Ger?”

  Gerry shook his head, and Jake let him go. The man stumbled back, landing on the hood of a car, one hand to his throat. He wheezed audibly for air.

  “Bye, Ger,” Jake said equably. “Been great talkin’ to you.”

  He turned to walk away toward his truck at the far end of the lot. He heard voices and clocked a couple getting out of a car in the middle of the lot. Their doors closed and they walked toward him. Then he heard a scuffling of feet behind him, and Gerry slammed into his back with an inarticulate cry of rage.

  Jake whirled, deflecting the smaller man with his left forearm. He brought his right fist up in a short, brutal arc. A blow to the face and a left to the ribs. With a sound like a deflated balloon, Gerry collapsed sideways on the car hood.

  The couple stopped in the middle of the driving lane, stiff with alarm.

  Jake waited, making sure the dude was conscious, before he leaned over him. “Thanks, I was hoping you’d give me an excuse to do that. Now, don’t forget, Ger—tomorrow morning. Oh, and buddy? Carlie doesn’t hear about this little conversation. Just between you and me.”

  The couple moved, the man putting the woman behind him. “What’s going on here?”

  “That man attacked you,” the woman said, clearly shocked. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m good,” Jake said. “Sorry to alarm you, ma’am.”

  “I should call the police,” the man said, his voice uncertain.

  “Nah, I’m not gonna press charges,” Jake said. “You folks have a good night.”

  He strolled away under the shadows of the oak, flexing his hands with satisfaction.

  He felt a little guilty about roughing a smaller guy, but not too much. Jake knew his own strength, and he’d pulled his punches. Otherwise, he might have killed the little prick. Bullying a woman that way, knowing Carlie was sweet and gentle and would just take it, not scratch his eyes out the way he deserved—dude deserved a few cracked ribs.

  “Semper Fi,” he murmured under his breath as he swung into his truck and started it up.

  He thought about Carlie as he drove through the lighted streets of Beaverton toward the outskirts. Being with her, just talking, flirting, teasing her gave him this same kind of feeling that he got when he was headed out of the city to his place. Right somehow.

  His place was on a quiet road, with a farm on the other side of his back fence. An organic farm, with a big truck garden and a few sheep and goats wandering the pasture. He got a kick out of them, as well as the random geese, ducks and chickens that escaped their pens once in a while to be chased down by the children of the Asian-American family that owned the place. They were nice people, and in the summer their property was filled with flowers in long strips of color which they sold at weekly farm markets along with their vegetables. He made a point of buying veggies from them, and once the wife, Tranh, had given him a big, splashy bouquet of flowers. He’d stuck them in an empty jar on his dining table. Darned if they hadn’t looked good. Brightened up the place.

  Jake’s house was in a state of refinish, a two-story WWII-era bungalow that had seen better days, but he was fixing it up a little at a time, contracting the work he couldn’t do himself or bribe Dack into helping him with. Not that Dack took much bribery—a six-pack from a local microbrewery and some food, and he wa
s up for any project, a builder through and through.

  Jake’s own yard was good sized, and it was looking good courtesy of the sprinkler system he’d laid last fall, and the split-rail fence that kept the neighborhood kids’ bikes off his grass.

  He supposed someday he’d put in flower beds or at least shrubs, but that wasn’t in his game plan yet. Women liked flowers, but he didn’t have a woman in his game plan either, other than at the club.

  But there he had a lot to look forward to. Carlie, and soon. Her paperwork had come through his e-mail inbox today. Trace had made sure to forward it so Jake could read it. He shook his head. Both his friends were too damned observant.

  He smiled to himself, wondering how long it would take her to get her sweet ass in the doors. He’d be waiting.

  Come to Papa.

  “Checking your personal e-mail?” purred a silky voice at Carlie’s elbow.

  Carlie started violently, clicked the Darken Screen icon and then sat back in her office chair with a huff. She glared at the willowy man leaning on her desk, a sly smile on his dark face.

  “Savoy, don’t sneak up on me like that,” she complained. “Geez, you nearly gave me a heart attack.”

  “Oo-oh.” He batted his thick black lashes at her. “In one of those dirty chat rooms, were we?”

  She smiled weakly. “Just checking to see if the bank transfer arrived from my African lottery winnings. I sent them my bank account info weeks ago.”

  Martin Ebison’s personal assistant gave her a look. “Right. I happen to know you’re way too smart for that, missy. But not smart enough to stay away from Gerry. Why did you go with him to the dinner? I told you.” He shook his head chidingly.

  “I know,” she agreed humbly. “I thought it would serve two purposes—give me an escort for the dinner and get Gerry to stop asking me out. One date is usually all it takes. Just didn’t think it would go quite that far south.”

  Savoy snorted elegantly, brushing imaginary lint from his cream slacks, which he had paired with a dark blue shirt and a gold-and-cream silk scarf. His glossy black hair was a la Elvis today. “South, huh—you’re lucky you didn’t end up in Antarctica with that…that panty prober. It’s a good thing he’s not here today, or I’d be giving him a piece of my mind.”

  “He’s not?” Carlie looked around the big open office area. Monday morning, and the large open office area was full of morning sunlight. There were still several empty desks, though. Not surprising given that it was August, the hottest and driest month in the Pacific Northwest and thus prime vacation time.

  Now she saw that the corner office shared by the two salesmen, Gerry and Eric, was empty. Eric had just passed her on the way in. He’d given her a sickly smile, which she hadn’t returned. He’d laughed the loudest at Gerry’s horrible remark. Of course he’d clearly been drunk on his ass at the time, but still.

  “Gerry called in sick,” said another voice.

  Carlie and Savoy turned to the new arrival. Gigi, EbiTeck’s head computer geek, was a short, thin woman, her auburn dreadlocks swept up and back with purple headbands. She wore orange tights and a flowered gauze peasant dress. Her freckled face was adorned with a nostril ring, dangling silver earrings and a smirk of satisfaction. It was a tossup who enjoyed juicy office gossip the most, Savoy or Gigi.

  “Good,” Savoy said. “Maybe he’ll be out for the rest of the summer.”

  “At least I don’t have to look at him,” Carlie said.

  Maybe he’s languishing of a horrible bug he caught from some skank he met in the bar. Yeah, the girl just got back from Asia and she didn’t even know she was sick, but she passed it on to Gerry when they hooked up, and now he’s in the hospital in ICU and the medical staff are wearing anticontamination suits and shaking their heads sadly while they call his parents to come and peer at him through the plastic curtains one last time, because he isn’t going to make it. Tsk, tsk.

  “None of us may have to look at him, if he keeps this up,” Gigi said. “You can bet I let Martin know all about it.” Gigi had gone to college with Martin Ebison. She not only owned stock in the company, she had his ear.

  “Thanks,” Carlie said. She knew she would have to talk with him also, because as much as she hated the thought, ignoring this would not be good for the sisterhood. A couple of the older women had related stories of having to put up with constant innuendo and even groping in their first jobs, but that was before affirmative action. Carlie was not going to set the movement back ten years by ignoring Gerry’s behavior. “Now can we please, please move on? I just wanna get on with my day.”

  “You got it, sweetie,” Savoy agreed. “Anyway, I have to get ready for the meeting. Conference room, twenty minutes.”

  “Me too,” Gigi agreed. “Dang, I would’ve gone on that rafting trip if I’d known Martin was going to pull this meeting shit on us. Does the man not know it’s summer time, and I’m missing a third of my techs? Meet with whom?”

  The two headed off in separate directions.

  Carlie clicked her computer screen back on and stared at her personal e-mail account, her mind already off Gerry the Loser. She wasn’t supposed to use her EbiTeck computer for personal business, but it was an open secret around the office that everyone did. Carlie was not as bad as some of the others, so she felt guilty but not too guilty.

  That wasn’t why she’d nearly had a heart attack when Savoy sneaked up on her; it was because of the particular e-mail she’d been reading. It was an automated response from the Club 3 software that her application had been received, and she would hear from someone later in the week after it was reviewed.

  This made her cringe, because it meant that soon all three of the Club 3 owners and head doms, Jake, Dack and Trace, would be reading her application and looking over the sexual activities before which she’d checked “yes” or “possibly”.

  Oh, crappity crap. Why had she checked “yes” to bondage and toys, and “possibly” to some of those other things? She’d never be able to look Trace and Dack in the eye again. Somehow she’d been able to picture Jake doing those things to her, with her, but she’d forgotten that the club was an actual business and the partners went over the applications together. Daisy had told her this.

  Carlie pressed her fingers to her forehead and leaned on them, closing her eyes. What a bleeping Monday this was.

  First, she’d walked into EbiTeck a short time ago and paraded the gauntlet of her coworkers’ curious stares, which had ranged from discreet sympathy—Savoy—to overt disdain—Monica, who actually liked Gerry.

  The walk of shame. Even though none of what had happened with Gerry had been Carlie’s fault, still, she’d brought the disaster that was her dating life here to work. From now on, no matter what direction her sex life took, it was not going to happen with any man connected with EbiTeck. She loved her job, she liked most of her coworkers, but enough with this garbage.

  And her dates outside the office hadn’t been any better. Rafe, because of whom she was now buying her Friday-morning latte at a different coffee shop; the hunky neighbor who had since, thank God, moved out of her apartment complex; her brother’s friend Derek—all had crashed in flames, with only bits of wreckage to sort through, while she asked herself why?

  Well, at least now that she’d met Jake, knew about Club 3 and listened to Daisy rhapsodize about sex with Dack, Carlie understood exactly why there hadn’t been sufficient chemistry between her and her last several dates to let them into her heart or her panties. Rafe had just been a jackass, as was Gerry, but hunky neighbor Will had actually been a nice guy, just very upfront that he was only looking for a friend with benefits. For some reason, that had not appealed to her, although she was now planning that at the club. Derek was nice too, just not sufficiently interested in her to break the taboo of having sex with his best friends’ sister.

  Carlie had been hurt by Rafe, humiliated by Gerry, disappointed by the last two. Now, she no longer cared. She wanted a dom.

  He
r fate, her karma had led her to Big Iron Fitness and thus to Jake.

  This, along with her mother’s latest meddling, had tipped the balance between fear and action. So she’d hit Send. Then she’d had the surprise supper with Jake, which had been nerve-racking but awesome.

  Now, with all of this going on, her insides felt kind of…floaty. Elated but nervous, her granola, fruit and coffee churning in her stomach. She needed reassurance, and fast. Casting a quick look around, she saw that everyone else in the large open office was either on the phone, involved in conversation or at least far enough away they couldn’t hear her. The clock on her computer said she still had fifteen minutes until meeting time.

  She pulled out her cell phone.

  Chapter Nine

  As Daisy’s phone rang, Carlie gazed out at the sunny expanse of lawn in the middle of the EbiTeck complex. The lush grass still sparkled in the morning sun from the watering it received every night.

  Daisy answered on the third ring. “Hey, girlfriend, what’s up?”

  “I’ll tell you what’s up,” Carlie blurted, her voice hushed. “I did it. I sent in my application to the club, and I feel like I jumped off the high-diving board and the water’s pretty down there, cool and inviting, but I haven’t hit yet and maybe it’s not going to feel good, maybe it’s so cold I’ll freeze my ass off. Or too hot for me, which is more like it, considering we’re talking about the club. And—and I need swim lessons, Dais. Everyone else in the pool is going to be doing flips and underwater somersaults and—and ballet doux and even trois for all I know, and I’m not even sure I can dog paddle.”

  She stared out at the wet grass, her phone trembling in her hand. “And with my romantic record—or lack of it, maybe I should just stick to running through the sprinklers.”