The Learning Curve

by Collins, Kelly

  I reached over and held her hand. “Honey, it’s okay. We can find you another Dan.”

  She continued to shake her head. “It’s not Dan. It’s Mark.”

  I’d been keeping my eyes open for him, but he hadn’t shown, and I figured maybe his meeting had been canceled. Somewhere deep inside, I was happy because I was out with Jennie and he was probably home waiting for me. But now I knew the truth: He was simply late, and by the look on Jennie’s face, I wouldn’t be pleased with his guest.

  I turned around, and there they were sitting behind us in a private booth. Her laughter made the hair on the back of my neck rise. It was full of life and happiness. Not the laugh of a woman whose man just told her he was in love with someone else.

  My hand shook as I brought my martini to my lips. He lied. I’d asked whether it was her, and he’d said no, it was just a meeting.

  I shook off my anger and focused on Jennie. “I knew he’d be here. It’s a meeting I set up.” That wasn’t a lie. I’d made the reservations. “She’s an old friend. They have a history.” No lie there either.

  “She’s gorgeous.” Jennie craned her neck to look around me, causing me to turn in their direction.

  “She is gorgeous. Old money, blonde hair, blue-eyed gorgeous.”

  “Are you jealous? If I saw Dan out with that, I’d be green.”

  Jealous didn’t begin to describe what I was feeling. “‘Murderous’ is more like it. Shall we go?”

  She finished her drink and picked up her jacket. I put enough money on the table for our drinks and a generous tip. I pulled back my shoulders and smiled. There was no way I would let either of them see how hurt I was.

  I’d barely made it halfway to the door when an arm snaked out and wrapped around my waist.

  “Here she is.” Mark pulled me into the booth next to him. “This is my girl.” His lips brushed against my temple, and he whispered in my ear, “When will you learn to trust me?”

  I turned my head toward him, willing the tears to evaporate. “I don’t understand.”

  “Jennie, good to see you.” He looked at my friend, whose mouth was open like a hungry chick’s. “Join us.” He waved his hand sideways, silently asking the blonde goddess to slide over. “This is Tabitha Crawford. She’s a physics professor at Oxford.”

  I tilted my head in confusion. “I thought you were on a temporary teaching assignment?”

  Tabitha’s laughter trilled through the air. “Yes, that was the plan until I fell for England.”

  “What she means is, she fell for the chancellor.”

  Tabitha pushed her left hand in front of her and looked at the ring that sparkled in the light. “He stole my heart like you stole Mark’s.” There was no anger in her voice, just the happy lilt of a woman in love. “I’m so happy he found you. I was heartsick thinking I’d have to come back and hurt him with my news, but it’s all worked out.”

  I used to love the Twilight Zone, but I never wanted to star in an episode. But right then and there, I could hear the theme song playing in my mind and Rod Sterling telling me I’d entered another dimension.

  “You’re getting married?” I managed to say. To Jennie, who sat across from me, her face frozen in confusion, I added, “I’ll explain later.”

  “Yes, as soon as I can pack up my stuff and get it shipped over to England.”

  I wanted to tell her I’d be over in the morning with boxes, but that seemed rude since she was being so gracious. I’d been sleeping with her fiancé for three months. Then again, she’d been sleeping with someone else. I cuddled up next to my man and hugged onto his arm.

  “I wish you all the happiness in the world.”

  “You, too.” She pulled lipstick from her purse and applied the rose red to her lips. “Do I hear wedding bells for you, too?”

  Mark and I answered at the same time. He said yes, and I said no. It was obvious we had a lot to talk about.

  “I’ve got to go,” Jennie said. “Dan is expecting me home by eight.”

  I raised my brows in question. “And?” Was she going to give him what he wanted?

  “He deserves a reward.” She slid out of the booth and gave me a hug. “He’s been very good.”

  Mark and Tabitha looked between us for an explanation, but neither of us was talking. “See you next week.”

  Shortly after, Tabitha excused herself to go back to Mark’s and pack, and we were left alone in the booth.

  “You lied to me.” I was still snuggled up next to him. His hand rubbed my bare thigh.

  “I did not.”

  “Yes, you did. I asked you if the meeting was about her, and you said no.”

  “Sweetheart, you’re a master negotiator, and you of all people should know everything is in the details. You asked if it was about her, and I said it was just a meeting.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” I reached for his glass of wine and took a drink. I wasn’t walking out the door of this restaurant until I knew the truth.

  “Because I knew you’d react the way you did. I made you make the reservations to prove a point.” He waved to the waiter and ordered us dinner. “You love me. I knew you’d show up. Dinner wasn’t about her. It was about you. Now tell me you love me.”

  I chewed my lip a minute because telling him I loved him was like shouting it to the world, and I wasn’t sure whether I was ready for that. There was no doubt I was in love with the dean, but telling him put all the power into his hands, and power was the one thing I never wanted to give up.

  I filled his glass and emptied it twice before I turned in the booth next to him. “I’ll tell you what you want to hear, but I’ll never marry you.”

  He ran his hand up my thigh until his fingers skimmed my underwear. “I’ll take those words tonight, and I’ll change your mind about marriage by tomorrow.”

  His fingers dipped past the elastic of my underwear, and I knew he was right. Someday he’d wear me down and I’d say yes, but it wouldn’t be today.

  “I love you.”

  Once the words were said, I didn’t feel weak like I thought I would. I felt empowered. Somehow, our love together made us stronger.

  Chapter 20

  “He’s waiting for you,” Greta snarled as I walked past her desk and into Mark’s office.

  I arrived every day after class. I’d sit on his leather sofa and work on homework while he finished his phone calls. She brought me coffee with real cream, but she hated every minute of it. So much had changed since she left at the beginning of summer. She was no longer in charge—I was.

  He was on the phone talking when I arrived. He covered the handset and pressed his lips to mine. “I’ll be just a minute, sweetheart.”

  “Take your time.” I pulled out a folder where I kept my special contracts. Concierge Services had picked up two more clients, and the doors hadn’t even opened.

  Although Jennie had been apprehensive about trying anal with Dan, she found she experienced her most powerful orgasms during the act. She was happy with her decision and her gift to Dan, and he was like a walking billboard for middle-aged contentment. Jennie and I had a lot of friends who needed mentoring, and Dan kept sending me mentors.

  Jennie began sporting new jewelry and clothes. One day, she drove up in his Ferrari. Who didn’t want a piece of that life?

  “I’ll give her your number.”

  Mark wrote something on a piece of paper and waved it through the air. I jumped from the sofa to take it from his hands. There was a name and a number. No doubt someone interested in The Dean’s List. It was the name I’d given my invitation-only club. It seemed fitting since it was a dean who started it all.

  He hung up and rushed to my side. “You’re in trouble.” He pressed his rough chin hair into the soft skin of my neck and nibbled at that one place that sent me straight to giggles. “I told you, I’m not running a brothel.”

  “Neither am I. I’m running a dating service, and whatever they negotiate beyond the introduction is up to them.”
I ran my fingers through his hair and pulled him in for a deeper kiss.

  He fell to the floor in front of me. “Speaking of negotiations.” He pulled a small box from his pocket and set it on my thigh. “I’m asking you to wear my ring, Sandra, not because I want to own you, but because I want everyone to know you’re mine.” He opened the box to reveal a beautiful canary diamond. Most people would think it a citrine, but I knew better. I had an eye for quality. It ran through my blood like molten gold. “It’s not traditional, but it’s you. It doesn’t shout ‘engagement,’ but when you see it, you’ll know you’re mine.”

  I pulled it from the velvet bed and held it up to the light. “I don’t need a ring to know I’m yours.” I picked up his hand and placed it over my heart. “You live in here always.”

  “Put the damn ring on, Sandra. It’s not for you, it’s for me.” He took the ring from me and slid it on my finger. “I love you, Sandra, and I’ll love you forever.”

  “I love you, too. Let’s get married. Now.”

  The poor man fell back and landed on his ass. I’d been thinking a lot about marriage lately. Not because I needed the paper that said he’d be mine forever, but because I knew he’d be mine forever. It didn’t make sense to deny him that comfort.

  “You said yes?”

  “I said let’s get married. We need to get that license before I change my mind.”

  Mark had us in a taxi racing toward city hall in minutes. Not only did we have a license waiting, he also had the connections to get us a judicial waiver awarded within the hour—we didn’t need to wait the twenty-four hours required for most people.

  That afternoon, at five minutes to closing, I was officially pronounced his wife and him my husband. Being the modern woman I was, I maintained my last name. It was important for two reasons. First, even though I knew Mark owned me, it didn’t serve me well to let him know it. Second, it safeguarded his career. I had no intention of giving up my business. Keeping ownership under Sandra Tierney provided him a veil of protection.

  We spent our wedding night making love in room nine twenty-six, the same room where it all began.

  Chapter 21

  “Merilee, can you reschedule my four o’clock and pencil in River Roberts?” I pushed on the wall to my office and watched it pop free. I never got tired of how I could hide something in the open. It was the key to my success.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Concierge Services opened its doors the day I graduated. It was a legitimate business that provided entertainment for anyone interested in what New York had to offer, but the real deals were made in my office.

  Merilee rushed in with a latte and my daily calendar in her hand. “Your husband called and said he’d be here at noon for lunch. He wants to eat in.”

  It had been twenty years, and chills still ran up my spine each time he said those words. Eat in had special meaning to us. He’d bring lunch, and I’d be dessert.

  He was retired now and had lots of time to eat in. I never complained. He was my man, and I was more than happy to feed his ravenous appetite.

  “What about Luca Gregorio?”

  “He’s scheduled for five o’clock.” She lowered her head because she knew I hated after-hour appointments, but the demand had increased lately. The glass ceiling had finally cracked, and women were finding their power in the boardroom as well as the bedroom. Many didn’t have time to establish relationships but still had certain needs.

  Luca Gregorio was my answer to every woman’s wet dream. I had run into him on campus the other day and offered him an interview. He was tall, dark, and delicious, and I knew he’d look good on someone’s arm or hovering over her sweaty body.

  Over the years, the business had evolved. What used to be negotiated between client and coed was now part of our contract. Kink had become mainstream since the release of the Fifty Shades trilogy, and clients wanted more than vanilla.

  The first time a coed ran in telling me her mentor wanted her to strap on a dildo and peg him, I knew I needed to update the forms. After a few mentors stopped paying their students, I took over payments. If everyone was happy, I was happy. If I was happy, Mark was happy, and ever since that day twenty years ago when I said I do, it had been my goal to make him happy.

  The Dean’s List was a multimillion-dollar enterprise that catered to a niche market—single men and women who desired passion but not necessarily love.

  I entered my office and closed the door. My first appointment was in ten minutes. I loved first meetings when I got to tell the client the annual fee was fifty thousand dollars. Generally, they choked, laughed, or nearly fainted. Once, a prospective client actually fell out of his chair—but he’s been paying for ten years without complaint.

  We had men who want exclusivity. Men who like variety. There were men who liked men. Women who liked women. Men who liked multiple women. Women who didn’t know what they liked and wanted to try it all. My business was like a candy store where everyone came looking for a sweet and no one left unsatisfied.

  By noon, I’d collected one hundred and fifty thousand dollars and three clients. I was tired and ready for the kind of relief Mark provided.

  He slipped into what he liked to call my bat cave. In his hands was a paper bag filled with one of my favorites—either Greek or Italian—but all that interested me was the meat between his legs.

  I took the bag from his hand and laid it on the table. “How was your day?”

  He sat on the white velvet sofa beside me and answered me with a kiss. “I missed you.”

  “I’ve been thinking about lunch all day.” I glanced down at his erection and smiled. Even after twenty years, he was always hard for me.

  I kneeled on the floor between his legs and unfastened his pants. He sprang free, and I dipped my lips to taste the saltiness building at the tip. His head fell back, and he gifted me with a moan that only my lips could pull from his body. It was a sound that made me want to devour him whole, and I was sure that’s why he gave it to me. Mark loved my appetite.

  I pulled him to the edge for ten minutes before he took control and pushed me flat on my back on the sofa. His hands were hungry for my flesh. They roamed everywhere until I lay naked beneath him. He stared at me as if everything he ever desired came from my body.

  He got down on the carpet, kneeling on my discarded clothes, between my wide-open thighs. “Dessert first?”

  I raised up and looked at him. There was hunger mixed with mischief in his eyes. It was an intoxicating mix. “You have a sweet tooth?”

  He planted his lips over my sex and nibbled at my skin until I couldn’t catch a breath.

  Today wasn’t a day about savoring. Instead, he gorged himself on me, pressing his mouth against my tender folds until I came undone. But that wasn’t enough. He lapped at me until I’d collapsed and risen again. It was like he couldn’t get enough of me and wanted to taste every inch again and again. He licked longer, sucked harder, and pushed deeper until he’d touched every nerve ending possible. When I lay limp on the sofa, he crawled between my legs and drove his passion into me.

  We owned several properties. Twenty years ago, we bought a flat on Park Avenue. Ten years ago, we acquired a vacation home on Martha’s Vineyard. And five years ago, I’d purchased this building from Jason, but home was wherever Mark was—and right now he was driving himself home inside of me.

  “Harder,” I whispered.

  He leaned over me and pressed his lips to mine. “This isn’t simple sex. What you and I do is all about love, sweetheart. Forever love.”

  He wasn’t gentle. He didn’t hold back; he never did. Each time our bodies came together, it was a reminder of who owned whom. We both knew who the victor was, but Mark always let me feel victorious.

  My whimpers increased with his pace; my body rocked with his thrusts; my breasts bounced beneath his mouth until his eyes found mine. And in that moment, I knew that it would always be worth it. I hated him, I loved him. He was mine, I was his. We foug
ht, we laughed. But most importantly, we loved.

  Three hours later, he left me sated and in a room that smelled of passion and purpose. He made me promise him a night to remember because this was the end of twenty years of love, and the beginning of twenty more.

  I looked at his picture sitting on my burled wooden desk. My intercom rang. “Jade is here.”

  “Send her in.”

  I picked up Mark’s picture and kissed it like I did every day. “Happy anniversary, baby. I’ll be home soon.”

  Thank you for reading.

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  A Sneak Peek into Redeeming Ryker

  Ryker-Twenty Years Ago

  Chapter One

  Raptor Savage didn’t put up with losers. He didn’t put up with laziness, and he didn’t put up with liars. Today, I was all three.

  The sunbaked asphalt pulled at my sneakers. The trees whispered, ‘turn around, run for your life.’ Each inchworm step I took closer to home slapped my backpack against my butt, but that was nothing compared to the ass whoopin’ I’d get from Dad today.

  My report on Abraham Lincoln had been due today, the same report I’d told my mom I’d finished, which meant I was a liar. I hadn’t done the stupid report. Hiding out in the shop, and listening to the War Birds talk strategy, was more fun than writing about a dead president. That made me a lazy loser. I’d gotten a big fat zero for my grade.