by Nina Pierce
“Nothing important. Just another project.” Peter reached around her and shut the computer down. “Trust me, babe, it’s nothing you want to hear about. Boring engineering stuff that nearly put me back to sleep.”
“I definitely don’t want to hear about it now.” She laughed and nipped at his bottom lip, sucking it into her mouth and teasing it with her tongue. “I’m tired of work keeping you from me.” Her teeth grazed the cleft in his chin. Threading her fingers through the soft hair on his chest, she thrilled in his low moan of hunger vibrating beneath her hand. “You know you’re crazy for having driven through the storm, instead of waiting to fly home. But I’m so glad you did.”
“I couldn’t spend another night away from you. I missed you so much.” His hand slid up her thigh and pushed away the robe. “I thought about you while I was away and brought you a gift.” Lips brushed the tender skin behind her ear, sending a hot shiver of desire down her back. “We got a little preoccupied last night, and I didn’t get a chance to give it to you. It’s on the counter in the kitchen. I was going to bring it up with me when I came back to bed.”
“I love presents.” Meghan tried to stand, but he held her firm in his lap.
“Later.” One word with so much heat and desire behind it.
Peter slanted his mouth over hers, passion and desperation melding together as his silken tongue delved in to tangle with hers. When he broke from the kiss, his heavy lidded eyes were filled with need. “How about I take you back upstairs and make you my love slave?”
“I’m at your mercy.”
Pulling away, he leaned back, his gaze searching her face. “You mean it? Completely mine?”
She didn’t want to deny him, and she’d certainly enjoyed their fantasy role play last night, but something about the way he asked the last question, made her pause. “Well, I guess it depends on what you have in mind.”
Peter scooped her up and carried her to the stairs. “How about a little bondage? We could use the belt from your robe to tie your hands, a scarf from the drawer for a blindfold and perhaps a belt for a whip…”
Confusion overrode her desire as Meghan tried to understand what he wanted to do to her.
Peter stopped abruptly and set her down on the first stair, their eyes level. “You don’t like the idea, do you? I can see it in your eyes.”
“No. I…I mean yes. It sounds—”
“Warped? Depraved? Unnatural?”
She wasn’t sure how it sounded, but Peter’s own embarrassment and hurt added to the confusion clouding their discussion. “I didn’t say that. I—”
“No, you didn’t say anything. Your expression says it all.”
“Peter, if it’s something you want to try, I’m willing to—”
“Forget it.” Peter held up his hands as if to shield himself from her judgment. “I just thought it might be fun to try something different.” He backed away from her. “You’re right. It’s not something normal couples do. Seriously, just forget I mentioned it.”
He stormed into the kitchen, leaving Meghan to battle her uncertainty alone.
Chapter 5
Meghan waved absently at Peter as he backed the rental car out of the freshly plowed parking lot of Tilling Gardens and Plants. The morning she had hoped would be filled with tender lovemaking had become an uncomfortable morass of polite grunts and one word answers. Both of them were upset over the other’s reaction to Peter’s suggestion. She’d tried to lighten the mood at the breakfast table by opening the gift he’d left for her. But when she ripped apart the paisley wrapping paper to find a book filled with erotic bondage pictures, she’d become irrational and Peter had taken the book, dropped it in the trash and stormed from the kitchen.
She didn’t understand her own reaction. The whole bondage/slave/whipping thing seemed like something out of a back alley porno movie, not something loving done in the intimate relationship of a well-adjusted engaged couple.
After her over-the-top reaction, neither of them had wanted to stay at the house and they’d bundled up and left earlier than usual. With Meghan’s car still parked behind the floral shop, they’d suffered the short drive in an uncomfortable silence.
Meghan sighed and unlocked the door. Making her way around the Christmas trees with their cheery lights still twinkling, she couldn’t help but wonder what Peter was thinking. Normal people didn’t indulge in fantasy role play—did they? She’d have to ponder that and perhaps ask Julie and Deirdre. She and her sisters discussed nearly everything, including their sex lives.
Was she way off base on this one?
She headed out back, intent on tackling the bloody mess while she waited for the repair man. No way in hell would she be able to step into the cooler today until the door was fixed.
“Oh, hey sis,” Deirdre said over her shoulder as she wrung a mop into the bucket filled with crimson water. “How’d you get here? I was just about to call to see if you needed a ride.”
“Peter brought me. What are you doing?”
“What does it look like I’m doing?” Deirdre carried the mop and bucket into the bathroom, splashing the contents over the edge of the oversized sink. “Can’t I do a little housekeeping around my own business without calling the DEA for an internal investigation?” She shrugged as she left the mop and bucket mess in the sink. “Cooler needed to be cleaned and fixed. I finished plowing a couple of hours ago and came over here to do both. It’s not like I don’t usually help clean around here.”
Meghan nodded her head toward her sister’s heavy work boots dropping slushy snow on the tiles by the backdoor and her coat heaped in a pile on the workbench. “You’re a regular Martha Stewart.”
“Whatever. Did you say Peter’s home?”
“He drove through the storm last night. All the way from Philly in a rental.” Meghan grabbed the heavy stool from under the workbench where no doubt her sister had left it and propped open the door. Dee had cleaned all the blood off the door and the broken glass from the back of the cooler. Still, dread was a cold knot in her belly and she hesitated to retrieve the flower buckets as she worked to tamp down the memories of last night. “He couldn’t wait to get home and make mad passionate love to me.”
“Meg, about that…”
“Really, Dee, don’t start on me this morning.” She turned and stormed into the cooler, her anger over her sister’s accusations the evening before momentarily overriding her fear.
“I want to apologize.” Dee followed her into the cooler.
The chill air slammed into her and Meghan had a moment of panic that the door would close on them both. She grabbed a bucket of hydrangeas and quickly carried it out to the bench.
“I was talking with Ayden last night and he thinks I’m crazy. Sometimes work is just work and you have to put in the time. He’s been there. Done that. Has a string of broken relationships to prove it.”
Meghan took a deep breath, trying to act more courageous than she felt as she turned to retrieve more supplies from the cooler. “Thank goodness that man of yours can talk some sense into that stubborn skull of yours.”
Dee blocked her path. “I don’t think I’m the only Tilling with a stubborn streak.” Her voice softened. “There’s no need for you to come in here, Meg.” She squeezed Meghan’s shoulder. “Tell me what you need. I’ll get them.”
“That’s silly, Dee, I’m perfectly capable…”
“Just shut up, dear sister, I’m trying to be nice. How about if you let me?”
Relief relaxed her shoulders. Sometimes Deirdre did understand. “Thanks. All the buckets I need are in a little group by the first set of shelves.”
Dee disappeared into the cooler. “I was just over at the pharmacy, plowing when who should drive up but none other than Doc McCarty. He asked how your hand was doing.” She set a bucket of lilies on the floor.
“Fine. It’s tender, but no worse for the wear. Meghan held up her left hand showing off the oversized band aid wrapped around her thumb.
“He was picking up Daddy’s medication and bringing it over to Mum’s.” Dee headed back and grabbed the bucket of mint roses and cymbidium for the bridal centerpieces. “I hope you already told them what happened last night because you know her, Mum will—”
“Yeah, yeah, I called her last night and gave her the sanitized version. Dee, don’t you think that’s a little weird, Doc does that for Mum?”
Dee shrugged before grabbing the last of the supplies from the wire shelves in the back. “It’s what friends do for each other.”
“But he just seems a little too chummy with Mum when they’re together. Haven’t you noticed?”
“I think you’re seeing something that’s not there.”
Meghan shook her head. Doc McCarty was an old family friend, but his monthly office visits with her father had turned into weekly home visits over the last few months. “I don’t know. It seems a little off, that’s all.”
“I think, big sister, you’re reading more into this than is there.” Dee pointed her thumb over her shoulder. “Anything else?”
“The mums and mint baby carnations.” Meghan wasn’t convinced. “It just seems he’s spending so much time at the house.”
Dee set down the rest of the flowers and looked at her sister, deep lines creasing the edges of her mouth and eyes. “Daddy’s sick, Meg. We all do our best, but I think having Doc McCarty there is helping Mum with the whole situation. I, for one, am grateful for all he’s done.” She shut the cooler door. “Ayden and I are planning on having everyone over for Sunday dinner, and I extended an invitation to Doc.”
“I don’t think we should encourage their relationship.”
“Relationship? What the hell, Meghan? You’re the one who got all pissy with me because I insinuated Peter wasn’t living up to his commitment.” Deirdre wiggled the diamond ring on her finger in front of Meghan’s nose. Deirdre and Ayden had only been engaged for a month, but Meghan had never seen her sister happier. “Now you’re saying something about our mother’s forty year marriage?”
“God, no! I wasn’t saying anything about Mum.”
“Doc?”
“I just don’t see him visiting his other patients.”
“They’re friends. It’s what friends do.” Deirdre’s voice rose with her annoyance over Meg’s insinuation.
“No, you’re right. Forget I said anything.” Their father’s declining health was worrisome to the whole family. The active man who had taken three young daughters fishing and played softball in the yard, barely got out of bed some days. “Daddy’s lucky to have Doc taking such good care of him.”
“Frankly, I don’t know what we’d do without him.” Deirdre waved absently at the cooler. “Is there anything else you need from there?”
“No. I’m good.”
Deirdre moved the stool and let the cooler door close. “The inside latch works, but you should get a repairman in here to fix those hinges.”
“He’s coming later this morning.”
“Good.” Deirdre shrugged into her coat and stalked to the door, shoving her feet into her boots. “I’m doing the final plows and cleanups in town this morning. I’ll swing by around noon to put the arrangements back in.”
“Don’t bother. I can do it.”
“God forbid I should do anything nice.”
And with that, Deirdre stalked out of the shop leaving Meghan to deal with her doubts and insecurities alone.
* * * *
Peter sat at his desk in his office, staring at nothing. Fridays were slow anyway, but since no one had expected his return until after the weekend, his work load was practically nonexistent. He should be grateful. All the traveling had backed up his projects. The lull offered him the opportunity to mine through the log jam of work. But between Crystal and his fiancée, he couldn’t wrap his head around work.
Meghan’s words may have communicated interest, but he could see the disgust on her face when he’d mentioned bondage. He hadn’t read her wrong last night. She’d been into their fantasy game. He had no idea what had changed this morning.
He’d hoped the book he’d picked up in Philly would inspire some kinky adventures in their bedroom. But when Meg had scrunched her nose up with revulsion, he’d thrown it in the trash, discarding it along with his fantasies. It hadn’t been in the garbage can when he’d come down after his shower. He had no idea what she’d done with it. At this point, he wasn’t even sure he cared. Obviously, Meghan didn’t find the whole bondage idea a turn-on.
The thought of her strapped to his bed, her body opened and at his mercy, excited him like nothing ever had. Was his little obsession truly warped? Peter had had his own doubts. When his fiancée had balked at the idea, he decided it wasn’t something normal couples delved into. He blew out a long breath. What the hell was the matter with him? Traipsing into that little BDSM party in Boston had added fuel to a simmering fire. Now his desire to dominate trickled into all his thoughts, until even working without obsessing was becoming a problem.
He should be satisfied with what he had. Meghan was enough. Why had he opened his life to temptation? The whole Internet search for Crystal had introduced him to new and exciting forms of sexual gratification, but he didn’t want it if he couldn’t share it with Meghan. He was beginning to wonder if his fiancée would accept that part of him. Would Crystal and everything she represented always be on the outer fringes of his life?
Crystal.
He stood and walked around his desk to shut the door. His secretary was at an early lunch and he had at least thirty minutes of uninterrupted surfing time. He’d been battling his inner demons since arriving at work this morning, trying to forget about that woman. He shouldn’t want to find Crystal. Peter thought he’d closed the door on her when he’d run from the hotel suite last night.
Then, all he’d wanted was the safety of Meghan’s love. But he’d woken and worried that he’d blown his chance to meet Crystal. His obsession had slammed into him full force and sent him fleeing to the Internet in the early hours this morning. Meghan had very nearly caught him surfing for the Dominatrix. How stupid to be emailing Crystal and searching for her in the chat rooms from his computer at home.
He couldn’t stand it anymore. The thought of not finding the answers to the questions Crystal had brought into his life was eating at his soul. The guilt of keeping it from Meghan was eating through his stomach. There was no winning this battle.
He chewed several antacids and logged into the BDSM site, clicking his way to the forum. Peter searched everywhere for her, but it seemed Crystal had fallen out of touch. Even regulars to the site didn’t know where she’d up and gone.
* * * *
It was nearly noon before Meghan stepped away from the discarded clippings on the floor and rolled her shoulders to loosen the knots. As much as she loved arranging flowers, seven identical wedding attendant bouquets did get a tad boring.
The click of the front door caught her attention. With the cleanup people were doing after a heavy snowfall, business had been slow and she was grateful for the distraction. Drying her hands on her apron, Meghan wandered into the front room. A stunning woman stood near the door, her blonde hair cascading to the hem of her leather bomber jacket.
“May I help you?” Meghan smiled at the woman.
“I’m Sarah. I’m just checking out florists within driving distance of the Bangor area.” Excitement trembled at the corners of her smile, and she toyed with the ring on her left hand. The doe-in-the-headlights stare completed the picture of a nervous bride-to-be shopping for a florist.
