Dare to Love Again

by Maddie Taylor

Esme struggled with how that made her feel, as though she were betraying Andrew and the love they shared. Her rational mind knew she shouldn’t think that way, but she couldn’t help it. Countless times Pax had told her he would have wanted her to move on, to find someone else, to love again. Finn had asked that first night, as well.

  She was twenty-five to Andrew’s thirty-two. They’d never discussed what the other should do if the worst happened. Not even in practical terms of a will and finances, which would have made things easier. But they still reveled in the invincibility of youth and tragedy hadn’t been a blip on their radar, despite his job.

  Pax, who knew him, and Eric and Finn who didn’t, felt sure they knew his mind because as dominants they understood how much a true submissive needed a Dom on levels beyond sex and discipline. Pax described a sub being alone like a ship without a rudder, churning hard to move through the water, but without direction and control and a firm hand guiding it through, getting nowhere.

  She’d heard of Doms who knew the end was coming, like in the case of terminal illness, selecting another to step in if only temporarily. Not sexually, necessarily, but to be there to steer, to weather the storm, and keep the ship, which in her case was listing badly, from capsizing or running aground.

  Ryan Paxton had fulfilled that role for her, thank goodness. Early on, while dealing with his own grief, he’d been there for her, helping her with day to day life, and taking bigger hurdles when they popped up in front of her, even when some turned out to be twenty-foot high concrete barricades. Maybe now, since she’d found Finn, he could be relieved of his duties and go back to being her friend.

  She glanced at the clock. In less than an hour, she’d see him again, two days earlier than expected, and outside the club. This was a huge step. Their budding relationship spilling over into real life had to mean he saw her as more than a play partner, or a sub in need of fixing.

  But what if she was wrong?

  No. Expecting the worst was too often a self-fulfilling prophecy for her. After being with Finn so few times, she knew he was something special. Already, she felt tendrils of hope creeping into her heart. And Lord knows she hadn’t experienced hope in what seemed like forever. She wouldn’t jinx it with what-ifs, and her negative self-talk. Instead, she planned to move forward with optimism that this connection she had with Finn could turn into a lot more.

  The low clearing of a throat drew her eyes to the doorway. In jeans and a light gray button-up shirt, the long sleeves cuffed to his elbows, Finn looked better than ever, especially since the lighting was so much brighter here than at the club.

  “Hey,” she said in greeting.

  He smiled in return.

  “Just let me close this document I’m working on.”

  With a few clicks of her mouse, she saved the discovery list she was updating and closed the program. Purse in hand, she walked toward him, feeling as much as seeing when his gaze skidded down her body. Instead of a skirt, she was in linen trousers and a teal blouse. When she reached him, she had to look up, like while in the dungeon because she was also in flats.

  “All ready,” she announced.

  He said nothing, hadn’t since he arrived, but tapped his lips with his index finger in a silent demand for a kiss.

  She grinned, having no problem obeying, since they were inside her office and the one across from her was Mr. Reinhart’s and, as usual, he wasn’t here. Standing on tiptoe, her hands on his chest for balance, she reached for his lips. He helped by bending his head and his arm slid around her waist holding her in place when she would have pulled away. His tongue slipped into her mouth, tangled with hers briefly, then he raised his head and affirmed quietly, “Now, we’re ready to go.”

  Taking her hand in his, he led, and she followed, out the door and to the right toward the lobby. A loud bang from behind them had them both twisting around.

  Gerald stood in the hall outside his office head turned toward the rarely used exit door with the rickety stairs out back—which is why they were rarely used. Esme was surprised to see the automatic closure slowly drawing the door shut.

  “Mr. Reinhart?”

  He turned when she called his name, a rather strained expression on his face. His gaze landed on her briefly, then shifted to Finn. Then he stiffened, leaning away slightly as if on the verge of following whoever left by the back door, rickety stairs be damned.

  “Is everything all right?” she asked.

  “You’re leaving?” Though he was speaking to her, his eyes remained locked on Finn.

  “Yes, for lunch. Let me introduce, my, um—” Crap, what did she call him? My dominant? My Master? My soon-to-be lover in the hayloft Saturday night? Introducing him as her friend didn’t seem right either.

  “I’m Keiran, Esme’s boyfriend,” he supplied in her stead, taking a step toward her boss, his hand extended.

  “Keiran Finnegan of Rossi Security,” Reinhart replied, taking his hand, and pumping it once. “I know. I saw you on the news. Quite a feather in your cap, considering you’re a new agency.”

  “Not our usual case, but yes, it has started our phone ringing, not that we needed it to.”

  She listened to this back and forth as if from a distance, still marveling over Finn having referred to her as his girlfriend. It could have been tact, but he still gripped her hand, and she let the happy warmth that was becoming a familiar companion when he was around, bubble up inside her.

  “Perhaps I can send work your way.”

  Gerald’s offer snapped Esme out of her pleasant haze. She glanced his way, puzzled why he’d think Finn would need drug dealers as clients.

  Equally at a loss, he inquired, “Aren’t you a litigator?”

  “Yes, in practice for twenty-two years here in LA.”

  “Most of our clients are interested in home security, anything else is domestic in nature, which in Tinsel Town keeps us very busy. But thanks for the offer.”

  “Ah…” was his vague reply.

  “If you’ll excuse us,” he told Gerald, efficiently yet politely halting any further chit-chat. “I made reservations, so Esme won’t be late getting back.”

  “I appreciate that but take your time. Esme puts in long hours and deserves a little break.”

  She tried to keep her jaw from hitting the floor or saying something rude considering he had recently put her on salary, so he wouldn’t have to pay her overtime. Fortunately for her continued future employment, he turned and disappeared into his office. Turning to Finn, needing to say something, about the odd encounter and Gerald’s sudden benevolence, but she stopped, watching as he wiped his hands on his pants.

  “Sweaty palms,” he explained with a grimace. “Is he always that jumpy?”

  “Lately? Yes. Can we go?”

  He considered her for a moment, keen eyes narrowed and brows gathered in concern, but nodded, and led her out the front door. “Now, you seem jumpy. What gives?”

  She took his hand and pulled him further down the block out of view of the office windows. “I’m not sure, but the man you just met has been on a holy tear for three months but in front of you was suddenly as sweet as pie.”

  “He isn’t normally nice to you?” he asked in a hard voice.

  “He isn’t mean, per se, but I give him no cause to be. But something isn’t right. He’s always been demanding, more so recently, but his irritability is off the charts, and he’s never, ever, told me to take a long lunch. And… maybe I shouldn’t say.”

  “You can trust me to keep a confidence, Esme.”

  “Well, it’s not something I deal with every day, but it made me—suspicious. Like, maybe, my boss is doing something…” She stopped as a couple passed by, laughing. When they turned the corner, she looked the other way before moving closer to Finn and crooking her finger. When he dipped his head, she whispered, “Illegal.”

  “What makes you think he is?” he whispered back, turning toward her so his face was next to hers. His green eyes were up close and brigh
t, a lighter color when outside than she’d noticed in the club.

  “Esme,” he prompted.

  Realizing she was staring, she cleared her throat and murmured, “Right. Well, the other day, I found a notation of payment amounts totaling $80,000 in Mr. Reinhart’s legal pad.”

  He nodded, his expression not nearly as concerned as she expected it to be. “I imagine legal fees can get pretty steep, darlin’. Does that strike you as an unusually large amount?”

  “It’s not how much, but where they were from.”

  “Where were they from, Esme?”

  She looked around again, saw no one around, but leaned closer, her hand curved around her mouth when she replied, “A Swiss bank.”

  Finn’s head jerked back, his expression entirely changed, now deadly serious. “How do you know they’re from a bank in Switzerland?”

  “I Googled it. Is it normal for a U.S. attorney to get paid from foreign accounts?”

  “Mmm…” This response, which she noticed he did often, usually meant he was mulling something over. “I don’t deal with this kind of thing every day, but I can do some checking.”

  “I thought about going to the police, but it could be nothing.” She bit her lip for a moment, then her eyes came to his and she said with more conviction. “It probably is nothing. See, that’s why I didn’t want to say anything. I’ve got no proof of any wrongdoing, just a boss who’s acting… off.”

  “Don’t do or say anything until I get back to you.”

  “What are you going to do?” He was in security, not banking or law enforcement. She told him more for an opinion and to get it off her chest.

  “I’ve got friends in finance, darlin’.”

  “You do?” Her voice raising an octave in surprise. She flushed, afraid she’d offended him.

  Finn chuckled. “Yeah, I’ve got a diverse group of friends. But these finance guys will know the laws on international transfers.”

  She breathed out and nodded. “Okay, like I said it’s probably nothing. And I probably wouldn’t think anything of it, really, if Gerald wasn’t acting so strange lately.” She laid her hand on his forearm, which was nicely muscular, and squeezed. “I don’t want to ruin what little time we have talking about Gerald Reinhart.”

  “Me either,” he said with a grin, and moved her down the street to a black SUV with a prime parking spot. On Wilshire. Midday! Which was a feat in itself.

  He bleeped the locks and opened the door for her. “Do you like hot and spicy?”

  She looked at him, her gaze automatically running over his handsome face then dipping down his very impressive form. He really was a gorgeous man.

  “I meant food, lass.”

  Her eyes shot up to his, seeing the green orbs dancing with delight. “I know you did,” she replied in a rush. “I like everything. I’m super easy.”

  He laughed, spontaneous and unreserved.

  “I meant easy to please,” she explained only making things worse before she choked out, “when it comes to food.”

  She slid in front of him and with one foot on the running board hauled herself in while muttering, “I’ll just shut up now.”

  His grin didn’t lessen when he shut the door and was still as broad when he came around and got in on his side. After starting the engine, which came with a cool blast of air, he hooked his hand behind her neck and pulled her toward him. Her ribs dug into the console, but she didn’t care, not when his mouth covered hers in a smoldering kiss. And unlike the brief one in her office, he didn’t break away until her mind was muddled, the air had evaporated from her lungs, and her pulse pounded in her ears.

  “You’re delightful, a stór, and I don’t want you to hold back with me. Got me?”

  “What does that mean? Ah-store. You said it the other night.”

  “’Tis a Gaelic endearment that suits you. It means treasure, or the way I use it, my treasure.”

  A warmth, triple what she’d been feeling before, invaded her chest. She blinked as his image wavered slightly. His next kiss wasn’t much more than a light brush of his lips but was as stirring as the last, and just like that one, took her breath away.

  “Buckle up,” he ordered softly, not yet releasing her. “I’ll get you fed and back to work on time, so the boss man can’t complain, no matter what he claimed earlier.”

  When he sat back, his hand gliding along her jaw before falling away, she nodded. Then, with trembling fingers fumbled with her seat belt, before it clicked into place.

  He put the car in gear and pulled out, reclaiming her hand with a firm squeeze before he commented, “This isn’t the best of neighborhoods. Do they have security in your building, cameras, or an alarm system at least?”

  “There aren’t any cameras and the alarm system is outdated. When I first started, Mr. Shoemaker was in the process of getting bids on an upgrade. When he retired, Gerald put an end to that. His two divorces in five years have been a financial hit, which might explain his surly behavior though he shouldn’t take it out on us. Or it could be from lack of sleep. The alarm has a hair trigger. It goes off several times a week, all false alarms. If it happens at night, the security company calls him. Lately, it’s been off most mornings when I come in.”

  “I’m not liking the sound of this, Esme. If he’s a jerk, and lax with his security and the safety of his employees, maybe you should think of looking elsewhere for work. Somewhere safer.”

  “I’ve considered it. In fact, me and the new attorney have been dusting off our resumes. Something is up with Gerald. He’s changed drastically and not for the better, which doesn’t make for an enjoyable work environment.”

  “I’ll put out some feelers.”

  “Really? You’d do that?”

  “Lass,” he replied, reaching over to capture her hand and bring it to his thigh. “If it keeps the worry off your pretty face and keeps that gorgeous body out of harm’s way, there isn’t much I wouldn’t do.”

  With Finn, it didn’t sound like a line—she believed he meant every word. The shields around her heart melted further. If he kept this up, it would soon be laid bare, his for the taking. Something she swore would never happen again.

  Lunch went by much too fast. The food was amazing. She had fish tacos of the Gods which was tempura-battered local cod, chipotle cream, and their signature Pico de Gallo, while Finn ordered the short ribs with chilies, and fresh cilantro. He was charming, attentive, and regaled her with stories of growing up in Ireland. True to his word, despite the crowded restaurant and the noontime traffic, he had her back to work on time.

  Bonus—she got another kiss in parting before they left the car and he held her hand again, something she liked a lot, as he walked her to the office door.

  Mr. Reinhart was absent the rest of the afternoon. It was the best workday she’d had in weeks, though not the most productive. Thoughts of a gorgeous Irish Dom kept intruding, and they weren’t exactly safe, or appropriate, for work. When she got lost in a fantasy featuring a worn leather saddle, piles of fragrant hay, lots of straps, and a whip-wielding Keiran Finnegan dressed in black leather pants, his chest bare, tan, and glistening with a fine sheen of sweat, she had to get up and splash water on her face—twice.

  Chapter 13

  Esme went to work the next day, determined to keep her mind focused on the million and one things she had to do rather than letting more sexy Finn daydreams distract her. In the morning, she made good progress on her should-have-been-done-two-days-ago list. After taking only thirty minutes for lunch, she was back at her desk digging into her should-have-been-done-yesterday pile when the intercom buzzed.

  Her eyes shifted to her obsolete, four-line phone, a decade past due for replacement, her boss too cheap to pay for an upgrade, and reached over to hit the button.

  “Yeah, Jas?”

  “Call for you on line two, Esme. I didn’t get to talk to your hot, new man yesterday, but on the phone, he sounds as yummy as he looks.”

  A thrill of exciteme
nt shot through her and she couldn’t contain the grin spreading across her face. She knew it was silly and sappy because that’s exactly how she felt.

  “I got it, Jas, thanks.” Grabbing the receiver, she punched the light. “Hey, Finn.”

  “Esme. I want to see you tonight.”

  No greeting, no preamble, only her name in his panty-drenching deep burr, then he cut to the chase. “I, uh, thought you had to work,” she replied, aware of the breathy quality present in her voice that had not been there a few minutes ago.

  “I do. It’ll be late, but I don’t want to wait until tomorrow to see you again.”

  Silly and sappy instantly morphed into melty and tingly. “Okay, I’m up in Northridge.”

  “I’ll be in town, working until close to ten. Meet me at my apartment.”

  “You mean the one over the club?”

  “Yes, but don’t use the front entrance. Park in the garage, upper level. I’ll come out and get you.”

  “Okay.”

  “I mean wait in your car with your doors locked, Esme. I don’t want you walking through the garage after dark alone. Got me?”

  “I got you, Finn.”

  “Good. And, baby, bring a change of clothes and whatever else you need. Once I get you in my bed, I’m not letting you go.” It wasn’t an invitation, and he didn’t wait for a response. “Gotta go, sweetness. See you tonight.”

  After that, she was ruined for work the rest of the afternoon.

  Meeting him late gave her time to go home, change, pack a bag, and take care of the other male in her life. She got in some kitty snuggles and gave him a bonus pouch of wet food to make having to spend the night alone more tolerable.

  It was ten minutes before ten o’clock when she drove up the ramp to the upper level of the garage. Her heart skipped a beat when she found Finn waiting by the rear door to the club. Leaning against the wall, one knee bent with his foot flat against the wall, his hair dark but glinting red beneath the parking lights, he looked amazing. Compared to the anxious eagerness that had claimed her since his call after lunch, he looked nonchalant, cool as a cucumber, as if he’d merely stepped out for a smoke, something she knew he did not do.