Velvet, Leather & Lace: A Man's Gotta DoCalling the ShotsBaring It All

by Suzanne Forster

  “Marsh?” she whispered in stunned surprise. Marsh had sent this?

  As the shock wore off, she realized she was both disconcerted…and intrigued. She was so used to calling the shots between them and him being fine with that, that this really threw her. “‘Come if you dare, a challenge you’ll meet,’” she read aloud. A shiver raced over her skin as she set the card aside and fingered the ribbon on the box. And only part of it was in trepidation. The other part was undeniably excitement. What was he up to?

  There was only one way to find out, but she didn’t immediately tear into the box. She was dying to know what was in it, as of course he’d known she would be, but still… Something about his assumption that she’d blindly follow his request—his command performance—annoyed her a little. Of course, he knew her well enough to know she’d probably react like that, too. “Come if you dare,” she repeated. “Bastard,” she said, but her lips were curving into a reluctant smile as she did. He did know her. Better than she’d realized.

  She tugged off the ribbon, telling herself that just because she opened the box, didn’t mean she had any intention of putting the contents on, much less hopping into a limo to be taken God knew where. She slid the lid off and pulled back the tissue paper. Her mouth dropped open. She’d expected—well, hell, she really had no idea. The box had been too big and weighty to contain lingerie or something slinky or sexy. Still, she hadn’t expected anything like this.

  She lifted out the folded pile of black leather and couldn’t help but stroke it as she laid it across her lap. It was the softest thing she’d ever felt, so supple it pooled in her lap almost like heavy silk. She flipped back the edge to find it was, indeed, lined in lustrous champagne silk. As blankets went, it was beyond decadent. But hardly the sexy, naughty something she’d thought his note had implied.

  Unless you were a cowboy.

  Leather and silk. A combination of masculine and sexy that admittedly got her pulse rate pumping. Did he really expect her to strip down and wrap herself in this? She ignored completely the fact that her nipples were already hard at the idea of driving off into the hot summer night wrapped in nothing more than soft leather and icy silk. She also ignored the accompanying thought of what one could do in the back of a limo on a blanket like this…

  Was that it? Was Marsh downstairs right now, in the back of that limo? She stood up abruptly, letting the blanket slide off her lap in a curtain of calfskin, torn between the immediate desire to race straight out to the curb to find out…and sending the empty box back downstairs with a note of her own, informing him she wasn’t impressed with his high-handed tactics.

  Admittedly, it was harder to fight against the former impulse than the latter. It was only when she scooped up the blanket again that she realized it wasn’t a blanket at all. It was a cloak. A floor-length cloak, with a collar trimmed in black fur.

  It was much harder to ignore her body’s immediate response to that new piece of information. Okay, impossible to ignore.

  “Damn you, Marsh,” she said, but only partly in irritation. Because she was already pulling it around her shoulders. Wear only what you discover.

  She shivered in pleasure, imagining what the unbearably soft, silk-lined cloak would feel like sliding over her bare skin. Of course, there was no way she was doing such a thing. She quickly bundled it up and laid it back in the box. Before she changed her mind. “Get your mind back on business,” she told herself. She had a million and one things that needed her attention. Marsh, leather temptation and all, would have to wait.

  Just as he always did.

  She frowned at that. Life is more than just work, or being your lover. He was pushing for more. And hadn’t she just been wondering how to have the same thing? Jamie had found a way to do it. Maybe she could—no. No, she couldn’t. She never had before. And she certainly couldn’t afford to even think about it now. Not with the show only two weeks away. The timing couldn’t be more horrible. Certainly he could wait another couple weeks. She chewed her lip as she paused in front of the open elevator doors. Couldn’t he?

  She had abruptly thrust the box down on the floor of the elevator, had even stabbed the lobby button and was prepared to step out…when she just as abruptly changed her mind. Not that she was going on any drive, dressed in that cloak or not. But she should return the box to the driver personally, shouldn’t she? Ask him to deliver a message to the sender, whether he was presently parked outside or miles away. After all, Marsh had gone to a lot of trouble. It was the least she could do. And it might buy her some time with him. Which meant she had about thirty seconds to figure out what that message was going to be. She stepped out into the lobby, box in her arms, still not sure what to say.

  The driver was a big, well-muscled man with skin the color of midnight. His smile was wide, his bow courteous. And she had no earthly clue who he was, much less whom he worked for. For a moment, her certainty that Marsh was responsible for this little game wavered.

  “Ma’am,” he said, gesturing through the glass doors to the mile-long white limo that purred at the curb.

  Samantha had ridden in many a limo, so she wasn’t easily seduced by the glamour of it. And yet something about envisioning herself in the black leather cloak, being tucked into that white gleaming ride… She shook the image free and turned a pleasant, professional smile to the driver, glad she could feel Dave’s hovering presence just behind her.

  “I’m sorry, but I—I don’t think I’ll be able to attend,” she said haltingly, then drew in a breath and tried for her normally confident smile. “Please let your employer know I appreciated the effort.” She held out the box. “And the gesture. It was very thoughtful, but—”

  The driver took the box, his smile not wavering in the least. He slid another card from his suit jacket pocket. “I was told to give you this.”

  Very aware of the eyes on her, she slid the envelope open and pulled out another card, bearing another note in the same masculine slash.

  Chicken.

  A short laugh spluttered from her before she could stop it. Chicken? So now she’d been all but double dared. She eyed the box…and the driver’s gleaming white smile.

  “Will you please accompany me, Miss Wallace?” he asked courteously.

  Samantha tapped the card on her finger. She couldn’t deny the little thrill of adrenaline pulsing through her. It had to be Marsh. Not that she’d ever dreamed he could come up with something like this. But then, how well did she really truly know him? Outside of bed, that is? That made her shiver again…in pleasure, and yes, anticipation. She knew going out there would be a capitulation of sorts.

  Life is more than just work, or being your lover.

  Was he telling her he wanted to have something more? A real relationship? Was getting her to agree to this outrageous—but admittedly intriguing stunt—his way of coercing some kind of commitment from her?

  Now it was her turn to smile. Well, she thought, we’ll just see about that. She thought about the files that awaited her attention, the meetings she had to set up before Monday and all the other myriad details begging her to go back to work. But after this little surprise, she doubted seriously she’d be worth anything the rest of the night. She was admittedly distracted now. And after all, it was just one night, already half over. She still had the entire weekend to tackle her workload. She’d order in Chinese and pull a whole weekender. Surely she could give herself a few hours to see what Marsh had up his sleeve.

  Despite the bad timing, with all the thoughts she’d been having about him lately, she knew she’d forever regret not following through on this. What was the worst that could happen? They’d argue and she’d come back to the office and bury herself in work as she always did.

  Yeah, her little voice whispered, but on the other hand, what’s the best thing that could happen?

  She didn’t let herself think about that. Didn’t dare. That would mean admitting maybe she wanted what he appeared to want. She wasn’t ready to go there. Yet
.

  Before she could change her mind, she shot the driver a quick, if somewhat nervous smile and said, “Apparently I’ll be leaving with you after all.” She took a quick look at Dave, took his amused nod in stride, then followed the driver out of the building before she could change her mind.

  He tucked her safely inside the limo…then handed her the cloak box. With a knowing grin, he closed the door, then slid into the front seat, on the other side of a smoked partition. It wasn’t until they were safely away that she realized she’d left her purse, her keys, basically everything she owned, back in her office.

  She felt a moment’s alarm, realizing she was heading off to God knew where, driven by God knew who…and just what if it wasn’t Marsh waiting at the other end? She was reaching for the button to call the driver, who was hidden from her through a solid panel, when she spied the envelope tucked in the seat across from her.

  She picked it up and pulled out another note. Same handwriting.

  Are you wearing it yet? Remember, nothing else.

  Or the night will end early.

  She stiffened. How did he know she hadn’t donned the cloak? A guess? Or was he—she rapped on the panel. It slid open, revealing only the driver. She sighed, disappointed to find Marsh wasn’t a surprise passenger after all.

  “Yes, ma’am?” the driver asked.

  “How long a ride is it?”

  “Just under an hour, ma’am.”

  “Thank you.” The panel slid shut. An hour. About how long it would take to get to the ranch.

  So this was definitely Marsh. He was her only lover, after all. And now he was demanding she come to him, dressed like some sort of sex slave or something. That made her shift in her seat. Well, she wasn’t about to take off her clothes in the back of a limo and put on a cloak, no matter how decadent it was. Her gaze strayed to the box. What had caused him to dream up this little escapade anyway? Did he think their love life was getting boring? True, they didn’t see each other nearly often enough, but when they did… She shook her head, not wanting to go there. She knew the sex between them was downright explosive. It was why they were together, was it not?

  She found herself remembering the first time he’d put his hands on her…when it wasn’t training related. It had been her fourth riding lesson in just over a month—a testament to her attraction right there, given her hectic schedule—and already a longer time frame than most of her relationships from beginning to end.

  He’d been so damn patient with her but she still couldn’t get the hang of things. Frustrated with her uncustomary ineptitude, not to mention his endlessly cool gaze and measured responses, she’d finally lost her temper and stomped off to the barn. Clearly the man was too much trouble, and she’d berated herself for giving him as much time as she had.

  Marsh surprised her by stomping in right behind her, stopping at the door to the tack room and demanding to know what she thought she was doing, walking out in the middle of a lesson.

  She’d tossed her hair back and said, “Leaving, what does it look like I’m doing?”

  And then he’d gone and done it. He’d smiled. It had been the first she’d ever gotten from him. The transformation was stunning. She’d been attracted to his rugged good looks and enigmatic demeanor from the get-go. But when his eyes sparked and the hard line of his jaw softened as his once-shuttered features split into that wide, cocky grin…her attraction to him had gone into instant overdrive. He’d caught her so off guard, she’d forgotten her retort, forgotten to shove past him, forgotten to walk away.

  Still smiling, he’d leaned oh, so casually against the frame of the open door, his body still radiating that controlled power that did something wicked to her insides. “You’re going to leave now?” he said, in that laid-back, take-me-or-leave-me drawl of his. “When it’s finally getting interesting?”

  “Finally?” she’d spluttered. “I’ve been trying my damnedest to get your attention and now, when I’m a bitch, you notice? What’s wrong with you?”

  He’d laughed then. “I’m beginning to wonder about that myself.” Then he’d cornered her in that room that smelled of tanned leather and sweaty flesh. He’d kicked the door shut, advanced on her. And suddenly it was as though none of this had been her idea at all. As if it had been his idea all along; the stalking, the planning…the seducing.

  Samantha shifted her weight on the leather seat of the limo, pressing her thighs together as the memory stirred her. As thoughts of Marsh always did. She remembered how she’d quickly taken the upper hand in that tack room; her pride had demanded it. He had to know he wasn’t going to control her, control them. But she hadn’t forgotten, either, how he’d continued to smile as he’d allowed her that control. As if he’d planned that, too, all along.

  The miles slid by as she wondered what else he had planned for her. What was in store for her out at the ranch tonight? And how would she control the situation? Control Marsh? “Since when have you ever lost control of anything?” she murmured, a slow smile playing at the corners of her mouth. The answer to that was never.

  Feeling emboldened, she slid the lid off the box, pulled the supple leather out and let it lie across her lap…imagining just what might happen if she put it on. And what might not happen if she didn’t.

  And as the lights of L.A. winked out behind her and they wound their way into the hills, Samantha began to take her clothes off.

  CHAPTER THREE

  THE LIMO SLID THROUGH the night, the windows so darkly tinted Samantha couldn’t see much of anything beyond them. It was as if she were trapped in a cocoon, in her silk-lined chrysalis. She shifted slightly and the heavy cloak slid across her skin, making her shudder. Between the images of what she must look like—a leather-girded gift—and what was likely to happen to her when Marsh unwrapped her…well, she’d quickly learned to sit very still. The least bit of movement, the watery slide of silk over her bare skin, was almost unbearably arousing.

  And then the smooth ride changed, grew more bumpy. Marsh’s spread was up in the hills, but he wasn’t hurting financially, quite the opposite. The roads leading to his house and main barns were all paved and well maintained, just like everything else he owned. So…where were they now?

  She clutched at the cloak, pulling it closer, sucking in her breath as it slid over now highly sensitized skin. Had he planned on that, too? An hour of leather and silk-lined foreplay? She angled herself so she could peer more closely out the side window, but it was hopeless. She couldn’t see a thing. For all she knew she was going to be dumped out in the middle of nowhere.

  They turned, then the car rolled to a stop. Her heart began to race faster, her skin growing damp…admittedly with trepidation as well as arousal. She was suddenly overwhelmed with doubt.

  What in the hell had she been thinking? What if someone else had written that note for nefarious reasons? Maybe they’d wanted her to think it was her lover. After all, this was so unlike anything Marsh would do. Wasn’t it? Would Dave call someone if she wasn’t at her desk first thing tomorrow morning? Except it was Friday night. A different guard was on weekend duty. She swallowed hard, a million thoughts racing through her mind as she waited for the door to be opened for her. For the driver to lead her into…God knew what. She began to panic, an emotion so foreign to her it was all but paralyzing. Get a grip, Samantha. Think! She forced in one deep breath, then another. She was just groping for the handle when the door swung open.

  She snatched her hand back, clutched the cloak shut as the driver’s smooth, calm face appeared. He nodded in approval over her attire. She glanced quickly to where she’d discarded her skirt and silk blouse. Idiot, idiot, idiot. For all she knew, she was about to be sold into some foreign potentate’s harem! Okay, maybe that was a little far-fetched, but still, she was nervous. Just having that thought should have made her feel ridiculous, should have allowed her to put things in perspective. It didn’t.

  See, this was why she didn’t try and mix business with pleasure. She
knew better. She should have stayed at her desk, dammit. This was possibly the stupidest decision she’d ever made. She had too many things to do before the show to be fooling around like this. This was exactly why she always put work first. Succeeding in work was a clear and focused goal. When it came to her personal life, it was obvious her judgment became seriously suspect.

  She was about to lunge for her clothes, when the driver extended his hand for hers. She looked at him, tried not to let him see the panic. Okay. If she was going to be in control of this situation, she couldn’t let her feelings show. She’d brazened her way through many a power lunch, doing whatever it took to forge ahead with her business interests, at times gaining success by sheer will, and a refusal to accept defeat. She could certainly handle this.

  Of course, you weren’t usually naked at the time. Taking as deep a breath as she could manage and not be obvious, Samantha forced a calmness into her body she did not remotely feel, and reached for the driver’s huge hand with a light smile.

  “Thank you,” she said, hoping he didn’t hear the slight tremulous thread that was beyond her ability to control at the moment. But surely, once he’d taken her to…wherever it was she was going, she’d find her ground, find a way to assume control, take the upper hand, do whatever—

  Her thoughts broke off as she looked at the scene before her. She wasn’t at Marsh’s ranch house. In fact, she’d never seen this place before in her life.

  There was a pathway of stone steps leading up the side of the mountain, lit only by a row of small luminaries. Though it was the middle of summer, the air this high up was clear and chilly, causing her to gather the cloak more closely around her as she stared up the hillside to the house that sprawled along the peak. It was log and glass, the sides angled away from the edge of the precipice it sat out on, the center a soaring, two-story A-frame structure made almost entirely of glass. It wasn’t ablaze with light. In fact, a dim glow from somewhere inside, along with a small curl of smoke rising from the chimney, were the only indications that anyone was at home. There was no car parked nearby and when she turned to look back in the direction they’d come from, the heavy stand of pines kept her from seeing more than a few dozen yards back down the winding gravel road.