by Vi Keeland
Jake was a puzzle; it seemed there would always be something deep and inscrutable between us that I couldn’t quite reach, something he held deeply guarded from me, maybe even from himself. I didn’t know.
He’d hinted in our first meeting at a ‘dark period’ in his past. Did it have something to do with being a Dom?
There was something so tightly controlled about Jake. It was almost as if he had secrets or experiences that made it impossible to just let go, to be vulnerable, even when still in full control. And at every session, I couldn’t help but feel as though he hid another side of himself from me. That he took his memories, his secrets and put them – and the fear they created in him – away in a box, locked it tightly and then pushed it away. From the tortured look that I’d seen in his eyes, I had no doubt that he always knew where that box was, knew how to find it, even in the dark. I wasn’t sure if it was the secrets he was afraid of…or the fear itself.
And I realized with a start, it really didn’t matter. We all had secrets, carried baggage, kept things hidden. Who was I to make Jake reveal what he didn’t…or couldn’t…tell me?
And in understanding that, I realized I could love Jake for who he was, right at this moment. I may come to regret not knowing whatever his secrets were, but for now, I was happy.
On the way to take a shower, I saw there were a couple messages on my answering machine. Probably Leslie.
I sighed, hitting play. The first was a hang up, but when the second one began I froze.
It was Chase. His voice sounded strange in my apartment, almost like an intrusion, but one that made my heart thump and my stomach muscles clench in memory. At first his words made no sense so I hit replay.
‘Abby, this is Chase. I just wanted to let you know that I have your collar. I took it off during our session for safety reasons and forgot to hand it back to you.’
My hand flew to my bare neck. There was a pause during the message and I thought Chase had simply hung up until I heard his voice again. This time it rumbled through the speaker in a low, deep growl.
“I had a great time with you last night Abby. If you’re ever interested in coming back to the club as my guest, I’d love to see you again.”
My finger hovered over the erase button for a long time, as I found myself lost in the memory of the previous night. I finally turned away.
Jake may have his secrets; I realized that I now had one of my own.
In The Shocking Follow Up To “Surrender”…
Chase and Jake are about to go head-to-head in a merciless fight to win Abby’s heart.
Jake is an inexperienced Dom, intrigued by the idea that he could hold so much power over a woman, especially one as beautiful as the curvy, plus-size beauty Abby Phillips.
BDSM club owner, Chase Thomas is an aggressive alpha male who doesn’t take no for an answer, and where Jake is still finding his way into the world of domination, Chase is a skilled and experienced Dom, willing to take Abby beyond the realm of simple desire and into a world of never-ending pleasure that is unlike anything she has ever known.
Abby finds herself caught between two very different, yet equally powerful men, both beautifully broken in their own way. It doesn’t take long before Abby discovers that there is only one way out – she must choose to serve only one of them.
What will Abby do when she is forced to say goodbye to either Jake or Chase? And what will happen when the beautiful submissive discovers that she just might be the one in full and complete control?
Find out in “Stripped”, part two in the riveting “Guilty Pleasures” series!
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About The Author
New York Times & USA Today Bestselling Canadian author Adriana Hunter writes contemporary and paranormal romance stories that feature irresistibly powerful alpha heroes and beautifully curvy heroines.
Connect with Adriana on her website at http://www.AdrianaHunter.com and subscribe to her official newsletter at http://www.SpicyTales.com.
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Fade Into You
Kate Dawes
Copyright © 2012 by Kate Dawes
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without prior written consent of the Author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.
Chapter One
I had been living and working in Los Angeles for only three weeks when I met the man who would change everything for me. I’d heard his name before, but only during the last few weeks of working in and around Hollywood.
As a regular girl, fresh out of Ohio State University, a Midwestern transplant to Tinsel Town, I’d never heard of Max Dalton before. Maybe I would have, if I’d paid attention to movie credits and caught his name on the screen. He was a writer and producer. I plead guilty—actually ignorant—to not knowing who he was before I began seeing his name on documents and hearing his name around the office.
Before walking into his office, I’d never seen him, though. I accompanied my boss, Kevin Anderson, to the meeting. Kevin was trying to get one of our agency’s clients cast in a new movie, and Max Dalton was the producer.
Max Dalton’s appearance wouldn’t have been such a surprise if I’d bothered to Google him and do a little research before the meeting. But I hadn’t. Chalk it up to my being new, but it was something that just hadn’t occurred to me. My focus was the presentation of our client.
Most of the hour we were in Max Dalton’s office, I sat there staring at him, unable to focus on the matter at hand. Max Dalton stood about six feet tall, with broad shoulders and a trim waist. It wasn’t a bodybuilder’s physique, much to my delight, but he did have that V-shape thing going on. I suppose the clothing he wore didn’t hurt, either. Dark gray slacks, and a white button-down shirt with the first two or three buttons open, revealing smooth and evenly tanned skin.
His hair was just long enough to get messed up if a certain girl had the chance to run her fingers through it. At the beginning of the meeting it appeared to be slicked back and I wondered if he was one of those guys who overdo it with the gel. But as the hour progressed, it started to dry, and I figured maybe he’d just gotten out of the shower in the private bathroom in his office. Maybe he’d been working out before the meeting, and in the thirty minutes I’d spent in the waiting room, he was in that bathroom, in the shower, soaping up….
See? That’s why I was so distracted. And, honestly, it kind of pissed me off. I had come to this town to work, establish myself, start my life. I couldn’t afford to be so lacking in self-control in any area of life, let alone with men. I’d had my share of man troubles, and when I arrived in L.A., I’d promised myself that I’d say goodbye to all that for a long, long time.
Work. I was here to work. I kept trying to tell myself that, repeating it like some mantra over and over and over…
“What do you think, Ms. Rowland?”
It would have been bad enough if those words had come out of Kevin’s mouth. But they came out of Max’s. Either way, though, there I was sitting next to my boss and across from a Hollywood mogul, caught totally off guard because I hadn’t been paying attention.
I was already looking at Max, so refocusing was just a matter of moving my gaze from his lips to his eyes. I’d already noticed that they appeared to be a mixture of gray and light blue, but this time I saw that one eyebrow was raised to punctuate the question he had directed at me.
I didn’t have the first clue about the context of the question. It was a prime opportunity for me to appear completely idiotic and useless. But there was no way I was going to let that happen.
Without
missing a beat I said, “With all due respect, Mr. Dalton, I appreciate being asked for my input, but Mr. Anderson is the pro here.” I said it with a smile and a glance toward Kevin Anderson.
Luckily, Kevin picked up where I left off and launched into his closing argument in favor of our client.
Saved by a little wit. It doesn’t happen often for me, but when it does, it always seems to happen when it really counts.
This is the part where you’d think I would have gotten control of myself and paid attention to what was being said. But as Kevin spoke, I stared at Max. Staring was okay; after all, he could have thought I was simply watching his reaction to Kevin’s spiel. But that wasn’t at all what I was doing.
I’m a Midwestern girl. Fairly normal. Pretty tame, actually. I’m not a virgin, and I’ve had my share of sex. I’ve never watched pornography, though, which made it even more strange that such images were in my head. They were like the flash scenes in a movie, the kind where the light flickers and increases and you catch a couple of seconds of the action. In this case, the action was me, facedown, with Max behind me…the kind of fucking that rips the sheets right off the bed.
The few times he glanced at me, my paranoia worried that he could see what I was thinking. Crazy, I know.
When the meeting was over, Max rose and came around the desk. He shook Kevin’s hand, placing his other hand on the back of Kevin’s arm. I’d learned in a Psych class that it was a show of power and dominance. I wasn’t surprised to see it in a Hollywood meeting.
Max looked at me. “Ms. Rowland, it was a pleasure meeting you.”
“Thank you, Mr. Dalton.”
I reached to offer and handshake as he was saying, “Please call me Max.”
His hand was large and strong, and he gave a firm yet warm handshake. If I wanted to be melodramatic about it, I would say a tiny bolt of electricity jumped between our hands. But nothing like that happened. The smooth firmness and inviting warmth of his hand was thrilling enough.
“Okay, Max. Please call me Olivia.”
He smiled, said, “Olivia it is,” and we all turned toward the doors.
Kevin went through first, stepping out into the reception area, where he quickly struck up a conversation with Max’s secretary. “It seems like we talk on the phone almost every day…”
Their conversation faded out as I felt Max’s hand at the small of my back. He leaned over my shoulder, his mouth close to my ear. “Nice dodge in there.”
I turned my head. “What do you mean?”
“When I asked what you thought. Very nicely handled, Olivia.”
“I don’t—” I started to lie but he interrupted me.
“It’s okay.” He laughed. “Really. I’m just giving you a hard time. We’ll talk soon, I’m sure.”
I felt the blood rush to my face. Great. Blushing in a professional setting.
Kevin faced us again and thanked Max once more for the meeting and I couldn’t have been happier that we were on our way out of there.
The ride back to the office from the studio was a short one. As Kevin drove he kept saying he thought the meeting went well and that Jacqueline Mathers, our actress client, was almost sure to get the part and that meant a big deal to the agency.
At a stop light he looked over at me. “By the way, that was great what you did in there. I appreciate it.”
“What’s that?”
“The way you deferred to me. I mean, you’re familiar enough with the issue to comment, otherwise I wouldn’t have brought you along at all, but…well, thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
I’d been a little worried that he knew the real reason I had deferred to him. Max had sure picked up on it. But Kevin thought I was just being a good assistant and letting the boss handle the matter. Good enough.
The rest of the day went well, though much of it was consumed with thoughts about Max Dalton. I was sure I’d never before seen such a perfect example of what people mean when they say a man can be beautiful.
I’d always thought it a feminine adjective, and I suppose there were famous men I’d seen who would have been worthy of it, but it had never occurred to me before I saw Max. I couldn’t help but think he should have been in the movies rather than the behind-the-scenes guy. Why was that? Had he pursued acting and not liked it? Failed?
Toward the end of the day I used my phone to Google his name. I felt a little paranoid about getting caught doing some research on him after the meeting—something I should have done well before.
The first result that came up was his IMDb listing. There was one picture of him, taken at a red carpet event. It wasn’t a close-up and didn’t do him justice at all. I scrolled down to the section that listed his credits: three as a writer, nine as producer. No acting or directing credits.
I would have been in even greater awe of him during the meeting had I known then that he had written one of my favorite movies. He’d even been nominated for an Oscar.
Whoa. This guy was a bigger deal than I realized, and I suddenly felt like a fool for not knowing. Although, Kevin hadn’t made a point of it. All he had told me was that this was one of the most important meetings he’d probably have all year. I figured it was just because we were pitching Jaqueline Mathers. Now I knew it was also because we were meeting with a true Hollywood big shot.
I scrolled back up to the top of the page and saw his birth date. He was only twenty-nine. It had to be unusual to reach his level of success at such a young age. He had seemed easy-going, friendly, and not snobbish or hung up on himself. Especially with the light-hearted comment he made to me as I was leaving his office.
By the end of the day I was completely enthralled with Max Dalton, and I had no idea how much pleasure and pain it would bring me in the coming months.
As I left the office my nerves were on edge. Not only because of Max, but because I was so new to my job, new to the entire business of Hollywood, and already I was a major part of what could be a major deal with an up and coming star and a blockbuster movie. The waiting game was on—Kevin had told me we’d probably know something next week.
To ease my anxiety, I put the top down on my new Volkswagen Beetle and let the California air blow through my hair as I drove home. The car was my first big purchase in life. I had pooled all my college graduation money for the down payment. It was a great ride all the way from Ohio to California.
When I got home I opened the door to find Krystal straddling a guy on our couch.
Krystal Sherman was two years older than me, and had been in California for three years now. She was really more my sister Grace’s friend, but when she found out I was headed to southern California she offered to let me stay there as long as I needed.
She was one of the few people who knew the whole truth about why I wanted to get the hell out of Ohio. Most people thought it was just about wanting a fresh start after college. That’s also what most people thought about my breaking up with Chris Cooper after three years of serious dating.
What most people didn’t know was that during our senior year at Ohio State, Chris cheated on me with no less than three girls. That alone was grounds for dumping him, but there was more—things I didn’t even tell my parents. The only people who knew the whole story were my sister Grace, and Krystal.
Krystal had come to Hollywood to pursue an acting career, but like so many others, she was a full-time waitress while she waited to be discovered. To her credit, she hadn’t asked me to do her any favors and try to get Kevin’s agency to rep her. She seemed determined to do it on her own merit.
When she heard the door open, she turned around. “Oh, hey.”
She didn’t move off the guy. They were both clothed, and I felt bad that I had walked in while something was just getting started. Sure, she could have been doing this in her room, but it was her condo, so I couldn’t complain.
“Hey, sorry.” I turned my back to them as I closed the door.
“No worries.”
I tur
ned and started to walk through the den and to my bedroom, but Krystal stopped me.
“This is Marco,” she said, looking from me to him.
I smiled. “Hi.”
He looked back at me through heavily-lidded eyes. “What’s up?”
I looked back at Krystal, who had rested her head on his shoulder, still straddling him. “I’ll just be in my room.”
She slid off him. “No, no, it’s okay. We were just figuring out what to do for dinner.”
I’d had moments of indecision before about where to eat, but had never thought of trying to answer the question by straddling a cute guy. Maybe I was missing out.
“Any ideas?” she said.
“You’re off tonight?”
“Oh, yeah. They had too many servers scheduled and called and asked me if I wanted off.”
That had happened at least five times in the three weeks since I’d arrived in L.A. I wondered how Krystal afforded to take so much time off, but it was none of my business.
Marco wasn’t paying any attention to the conversation. His eyes were on Krystal. More specifically, on her boobs, which were straining against the tight t-shirt she was wearing. I got the feeling he didn’t really care about dinner at the moment.
We finally decided to go to a little sushi place. Unfortunately, Marco joined us. I wanted to tell Krystal all about Max. But I didn’t want to bring it up with Marco there. I didn’t know him. In fact, I’d never heard Krystal talk about him, either.
After dinner, she said she was going back to his place and would probably be home late.
On the way home, I wondered what I’d do with the rest of my night. I could call Grace, but it was too soon to tell my sister about Max. She would only have been negative about it, telling me to be careful around “those Hollywood types,” as she and my parents like to say.
