Exception to the Rules

by Stephanie Morris

  She looked at the bedroom with longing. That’s what she really wanted. Sleep. But he was right. She hadn’t eaten since her breakfast bar that morning.

  “I could go for something to eat.”

  “Great. Why don’t we go to the restaurant here at the hotel? They have great steaks and an awesome selection of wine.”

  “That sounds good. I need to freshen up first, though.”

  “You go ahead. I’ll call down to reserve a table.”

  Gaea walked into the bathroom, a little started to see his things next to hers on the sink counter. It was only a leather overnight kit, but still. She tried to remember the last time she’d shared a bathroom with a guy. There was that time right out of college. But not very often and that had been years ago.

  Her gaze went to her reflection. She didn’t look as off balance as she felt. The important thing was not to let this arrangement get to her. He was just a hired hand. Someone doing a job. She’d done research in college, and she understood how it worked. He’d ask, she’d answer, and the rest of the time, she’d work. Simple, and yet…

  She was so aware of him. Of his broad shoulders, his slim hips. The way his hair fell across his forehead. That nose of his that was too big, and yet exactly right. The way he kissed.

  Gaea exhaled heavily, slumping her shoulders and staring blindly at the counter. That kiss had knocked her for a loop. It had caught her completely off guard. Not just that he’d kissed her, but that she had reacted so fiercely.

  She rolled her eyes. Good grief. That didn’t happen to her. Not ever. And it wasn’t going to happen again. This was the moment she’d been waiting for since she started working at Begum and Guinn, Inc. Nothing and no one was going to get in the way of her success. If she had to, she’d replace him.

  He ordered the 2005 Casa Lapostolle, which Gaea happened to know was the Wine of the Year for 2008 according to Wine Spectator. This to go with the rib eye steak she’d ordered and the Porterhouse he’d asked for.

  Typically, she wasn’t big on red meat, but tonight, it felt right. As did the small salad with the unbelievably good Italian dressing, the baked potato, and the crusty French bread that was way too good. Of course, the wine made everything sheer bliss. It was perfect. The atmosphere, which was dimly lit, not too dark, cozy, quiet. The meal itself. The waiters didn’t linger, but were never out of reach. And she even liked the painting on the wall behind Bas. It was abstract, no real subject, but nice.

  They’d talked a lot about his mother, of all things, during the meal. Gaea had heard of Jillian Fuller, had even read a few articles by her. It seemed the two of them had a good relationship, and according to Bas, his parents’ marriage had been ideal. But it begged the question.

  “Why don’t you ask your mom the questions that have you so confused?”

  “She won’t tell me.”

  “What?”

  “She won’t answer. She tells me I have to learn some things through experience.”

  “But you don’t believe her.”

  “I don’t disbelieve her, but I think she’s been spoiled by her own relationship. I don’t think she sees the dilemma.”

  “Honestly, I’m not sure I do either.”

  “You will, the more we talk.”

  “Don’t be so certain. I’m not terribly bright when it comes to men. I’ve never been in love or anything even close to it.”

  His eyebrows came down for a moment and he sipped some more of his wine. “I don’t think that will matter.”

  “No?”

  “My questions are about you. About what you need. What you want.”

  “I can easily sum that up for you in a couple of sentences.”

  “I have no doubt that you could. But I hope you won’t. I want you to answer my questions in the order I’m going to ask them. Not before.”

  “That sounds fair enough.”

  He smiled.

  Gaea consumed the last piece of bread on her plate. After she swallowed, she placed her napkin on the table. “Well?”

  “What?”

  “Ask.”

  “Oh, no. Not yet.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I’m having a really great time.”

  She laughed. “And questions will ruin it?”

  He shrugged. “Possibly. I’m not sure.”

  “Just how outrageous are these questions.”

  It was his turn to laugh. “Not really outrageous. However, they are personal.”

  “That much I figured.”

  “We’ll start later.”

  “How much later? I’m tired. All I want now is a bed. I have to be up at an unimaginable hour.”

  “Do I need to be up and ready as well?”

  She shook her head. “No. Tomorrow morning is a fashion makeover day. The men and women will be separated. Arnold will be too preoccupied to bother me.”

  “So when do I need to show up and take my place on your arm?”

  “Tomorrow evening. It’s the big opening party. It’s also a black-tie event.”

  “That’s okay. Based on what you told me, I am well prepared.”

  “Okay, then. Just be available from about six on.”

  “Sounds good.”

  She knew he would be a hit at the party. He was every bit the sophisticate, although not the least bit conceited about it. The conversation between them had flowed with surprising ease. But still.

  “No, this isn’t going to work,” she murmured.

  He immediately sat up straighter. “What?”

  “I will never be able to go to sleep wondering what questions you were going to ask me. So you might as well. Ask. At least one question. Dinner’s about done, so you can’t ruin it.”

  He leaned back in his chair, not looking pleased. “Okay then. If you insist.”

  “I do.”

  He stared at the table for a long time, long enough for her to grab her knife so she could stab him with it if he didn’t say something. Then he lifted his head and his intense gaze met hers.

  “Are you submissive during sex?”

  Chapter Five

  Gaea stared at Bas, the words he’d said echoing in her head. He sat casually against the chocolate-colored leather, his left arm on the seat, his right still on the table.

  “Am I what?”

  “Are you submissive during sex?” He leaned forward, moving to reach for the wineglass, his eyes shining with the light from the candlelit centerpiece. “You know, being tied up for sex. Letting your partner dominate you. Giving all the control over to your partner, allowing yourself to be taken.”

  She grabbed her own wineglass and drank all of the remaining liquid in it, then carefully put the goblet down. “You said you wanted to ask questions about women. Not about sex.”

  He shook his head. “But sex is a part of it. A big part of it. Of course, it’s true I hadn’t planned on starting with this question, but it has been at the forefront of my mind. So, what the hell? I might as well.”

  “Might as well?” She crossed her legs, folded her hands on her lap. “I know I agreed to be honest, but for goodness sake, Bas, this is a bit much.”

  “Oh,” he responded, surprise evident in his voice and his expression. “I thought you understood. It’s all going to be intimate. That’s the point.”

  There was a little more wine left in the bottle, and she poured it all into her glass. If it wasn’t for the day she had ahead of her tomorrow, she would have asked for another bottle.

  “I’m not asking to make you uncomfortable. Truly. I just need to understand you.”

  “And you think that whether or not I like being submissive is going to give you some sort of insight?”

  He nodded. “I would definitely provide me a lot of insight.”

  “Why in the world would you begin to think—”

  “Because you are such a strong woman,” he stated. “I watched you work today, and you seem to be a woman who likes to be in control. At least when it comes to work,
which makes me wonder if in other areas, you would like to give up that control.”

  She’d heard the same thing herself. Actually read a few articles about it. But they tended to be about powerful men who went to expensive underground sex clubs where a dominatrix would have her way with them. After another sip of wine and a deep breath and she met Sebastian’s gaze.

  “Well, I’ll tell you, Bas. I’ve never been submissive during sex. Nor have I ever been tied up. So I can’t say if I like it or not.”

  “Ever thought about it?”

  “No, I haven’t.”

  “Really?”

  “You know this isn’t going to work. Either we’re going to do this thing, which I now have second thoughts about, or we’re not. Now if we do continue on, you’re going to have to believe me, or what’s the point?”

  “No. I didn’t mean that I didn’t believe you. I meant—”

  “Don’t worry about it. And yes, I’m being truthful. I’ve never thought about it.”

  “Okay, then.”

  “You sound disappointed.”

  “I’m not. Well, maybe a little.”

  She laughed, more out of surprise than anything. “You’re a very unique person. You know that, right?”

  “Unique? That’s a nice way to put it. But yes, I know. I’ve been this way forever. Probably because of the way I was brought up.”

  “Which was?”

  “My parents didn’t believe in only having a traditional education. I didn’t attend school.”

  “I’m not following you.”

  “My parents home schooled me. But even that wasn’t done in the normal way. My parents believed that given the opportunity, kids would soak up all the information that they are given. Would explore every subject they could. However, most kids aren’t given the chance to learn freely. I was.”

  “How did you decide what to explore?”

  “Whatever caught my interest. I like electronics, so I was always tinkering with some sort of toy. Trying to figure out how it worked. I read several books on the subject. I was also able to get a lot of hands on experience. So I know a lot about electronics.”

  “But that implies you knew how to read. That you knew what to research.”

  “Correct. My parents taught me how to read and write. Very early, as a matter of fact. And I went to libraries and museums before I could walk.”

  “And that’s how you learned everything? What if you decided you didn’t like a subject. Like math?”

  “That’s why my parents allowed me to explore freely. A lot of things can be interesting if it’s presented with passion. I understood early that money was a powerful tool, so learning how to count came as a natural consequence.”

  “But there were subjects in school that I hated.”

  “I’m willing to bet your instructors had a lot to do with that. Remember, the key is passion. It’s infectious. You want to be a part of things when someone’s having a good time. My parents made sure to introduce me to people who loved what they did.”

  “Wow! How did they know it would work? Did you go to a traditional college?”

  He smiled. “They didn’t know for certain that their method of education would work. I think they just hoped it would. As far as college is concerned, I didn’t go at all. However, I still consider myself to still be in school. My parents never thought that learning was about memory regurgitation. Nor do I. It’s about understanding. I don’t proclaim to understand everything I set out to explore, but I get as close as I can. I chose the military for that reason. The Navy, to be exact.” He chuckled. “With the unstructured way that I grew up, one would assume I’d fail miserably in something as structured at the Navy Seals. However, it was the exact opposite. My career in the Navy has been very beneficial for me. I know a lot about security and Intel.”

  “So I’ve discovered.”

  He arched a dark brow in her direction. “Discovered?”

  “Did you think I was going to let you stay in my hotel room without doing some research of my own?”

  “Truthfully, I didn’t think about it. But now that you mention it, very smart decision. What did you find?”

  “That you have a highly successful security consulting firm, and that you were being very modest when you said you didn’t need my money.”

  “That’s all? All you read about was my business dealings?”

  “I browsed the Internet, not a crystal ball.”

  His laugh made her smile. The conversation made her disoriented. He was like no one else she’d ever met. The sex question had thrown her for a loop, and she still wasn’t sure she wanted to reveal too much of her life to a stranger, but on the other hand, he was alluring. She hadn’t been captivated by a man in…forever.

  “Well, next time, search beyond Bing or Google. You might be surprised.”

  “What would I discover?”

  He shook his head. “Oh, no. I’m not going to just tell you. I don’t want to be the only one who’s astonished by what is discovered during our time together.”

  “I think that ship has sailed. I’m astounded. Believe me.”

  He leaned over so his mouth came very close to her ear. So close, she could feel his warm breath. “This is only the beginning,” he whispered.

  “Yes,” she responded, her voice just as soft, although she couldn’t fathom why. “I imagine it is.” After she checked the time, cleared her throat and uncrossed her legs, she turned to him again. “But let’s try not to rattle me out of my wits, shall we? This week is extremely important.”

  “I can’t make any promises,” he murmured. “But I’ll try.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Well, I think it’s time to head up to bed. Unless you want dessert?”

  She shook her head. “I need sleep. As much as I can get.”

  “Then let me take care of the check.”

  In a very expeditious fashion, he settled the tab and they were back at the suite Arnold had so kindly provided. The first thing she spotted when she turned on the light was a gigantic basket sitting on the coffee table. She crossed the room and plucked the card from the envelope holder. She read:

  Gaea, I loved the joke. Let’s talk. Coffee tomorrow before the fashion makeovers. I’ll be in the café at seven.

  The note wasn’t signed, but of course she knew who it was from. At least she knew she’d be calling room service for breakfast.

  “Nice basket,” Bas murmured. “From Arnold?”

  “Yes.”

  “I see wine. Chocolate. Perfect.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He’s concerned. By the time the party is over tomorrow night, he’ll be completely convinced.”

  “I hope so.”

  “Trust me.”

  She placed the card on the table and looked into Sebastian’s eyes. “You know what’s really weird?”

  “What?”

  “I do.”

  Kallie glanced at her clipboard for the hundredth time in the last thirty minutes. Everything had gone smoothly at the fashion makeover, which made her nervous.

  All ten of the lucky winners had been massaged, coiffed, and made over in the Marcella Girardi clothing line, and they all looked marvelous. Photos had been taken, the media had been cooperative, and overall, the first part of Operation Marcella Girardi had been a total success.

  Now, while Gaea was doing her last-minute thing at the Ghost Bar, Kallie was in charge of collecting the models and getting them spruced up and prepared for the night’s soiree. No problem. Except, of course, for one thing. In Kallie’s unofficial opinion, the star of the campaign wasn’t Trisha Granger, although she was making almost four million dollars a year as “The Model” for Marcella Girardi’s fashion line. The true star was none other than Dax Kavanagh. He wasn’t as famous as Trisha, but he was much, much better looking.

  In fact, he was the single most handsome man on the face of the earth. Kallie knew this, because she’d seen a lot of people, and none of th
em came close to Dax’s gorgeousness. Just thinking about him made her palms sweaty, which wasn’t good, considering she might get to touch him, and she didn’t want him going “Ugh” first thing. First impressions and all that jazz.

  But, oh, he was so… She exhaled softly. His hair, blond and thick, tumbled around his face in the sexiest possible way. His blue eyes were sweet and soulful. She sighed. She was going to be a bumbling idiot when she met him, she just knew it.

  Looking at her watch again, she saw the models were supposed to arrive in less than five minutes. They had taken over half the front entrance at the hotel, and blocked it off. A whole lot of nosy people were standing outside the cordoned area, trying to see what was going on. Also some media, but she wasn’t worried. Publicity was what this event was all about.

  All she had to do was not throw up, trip over her feet, or something. Act like a consummate professional. Act like Gaea. She could do it. At least she could try her hardest to.

  A limousine finally pulled up under the awning, and a uniformed bellman went to the door. Kallie’s heart started to pump overtime in her chest and she wiped her hands on her skirt. Pasting on her most professional smile, she walked to the curb, but it was just Trisha. Of course, the group of onlookers went wild, and the flashbulbs when off all around, but she’d met the super model before, and Trisha even remembered her name. Kallie escorted her to the waiting stylist, made sure she had green tea, then rushed back outside.

  Four more models showed up, and Kallie hustled them inside, and then, it happened. He arrived. One of the two male models, there to show off the fashion line geared toward men, he stepped out of his limo wearing dark jeans, a Marcella Girardi T-shirt and scuffed sneakers. Her heart jumped, leapt, skipped as he turned her way and smiled. Oh, God! That smile. That face. That hair. She couldn’t take it. She was going to expire, right here, and that would be okay because Dax had smiled at her as if she was a real person or something.

  “You must be Kallie,” he said.

  His voice. It was just as she’d imagined. Husky, low, perfect. She managed a nod.

  “Nice to meet you. I’m Dax.” He held out his hand. She panicked. Sweaty palms. Ugh. But she couldn’t wipe again. Not while he stood there. So she just swallowed hard and stuck it out there.