"Then what are you concerned about?"
She fished another blackberry out of the bowl they were sharing and concentrated on the small yellow puddle left on her plate by an egg she had not quite mopped up. The last sliver of whole wheat toast he had fried for their breakfast cleaned it up nicely. "She'll want to know everything about you, now that you're back. She'll ask me—well, maybe not directly, but she'll work it around, you know—why I want to be with you."
"And you're not sure you can explain that?"
She knew immediately, despite the casual way he voiced the question, that he was worried about her answer. If only he could forget the difference in their ages and believe that, rather than constituting a problem, it was part of his attraction. The real difficulty, where Leila was concerned, was more complicated than any generational issue.
Eyes pinned to the crumbs left from her breakfast, Andee forced herself to try to define the connection that was such a fundamental part of their attraction for each other. It was difficult, not simply to say the words she had never been able to voice without a blush and a stammer, but to try to interpret something whose ramifications were anything but clear in her own mind.
"I don't have a problem telling her you're responsible for showing me I could be good at something, or for pointing me toward literature and all that stuff. She probably already figured that out. And she knows how the sound of your voice always made me feel. She used to tease me about it, at least she did before I thought I'd never hear it again. And it won't be hard at all to tell her how handsome you are, or that I can't get enough of the stories you tell me about your life. Except all those things will just make her want to come home with me to meet you, and then she'll probably fall under your spell, too, and that would be really awkward," she said with a scrunch of her nose and a small shake of her head. "I have a feeling she likes mature men, too. At least she should. She needs one bad enough, cause she's about as undisciplined as—"
And there it was. The topic they had been referring to only obliquely and with gentle teasing, ever since he had come back. With the notable exception of the one scene they had actually played out when she pushed him into a reaction.
Her head ducked a little lower.
"So you're worried Leila will figure out I spank your bottom when you misbehave, even though you know you need that?"
She would never, she was quite sure, hear him say those words she found it next to impossible to utter herself, without experiencing that jolt of pure longing mixed with a curiously eager apprehension. She had thought that response was long gone when she found herself in the most distressing moments of just such an interaction, but as soon as his hand stopped smacking and started caressing, she was caught in the snare again, and grateful to be there. Even knowing the crowds on the beach that day had probably taken notice of the blistered state of her cheeks peeking from beneath the elastic of her swimsuit had not been enough to demystify the experience for her. Although it had made her cautious not to precipitate another such scene right away.
She took refuge in argument now. "I don't know anything of the kind. I don't recall ever asking you to-to, well, you know."
"You've asked at least three or four times that I heard very well and remember quite distinctly, even if you couldn't say it out loud. Your naughty actions speak quite a bit louder than your words, you know."
She wanted to be outraged that he had laid out her shameful needs so baldly, but it was hard to summon up moral indignation over something that was so obviously true. The best she could evoke was a level of embarrassment that was, itself, strangely exciting. This awkward fascination with an activity engaging physical, emotional, intellectual and even spiritual responses within her—reactions that both blended beautifully and repelled forcefully—was something she could never explain, even to herself. She could only be grateful she had found someone who apparently understood it and was more than willing to supply her need, even when she denied its existence most forcefully. To receive that amazing gift from the hands and heart of a man who would have won her love anyway was a gift she was quite certain she could never deserve and kept fearing would be taken away from her again. It was that certainty of her own unworthiness that kept her from using the four-letter word she also longed to say but could not voice, in this case not from embarrassment, but for fear there would be no affirming response.
"Whatever," she finally said with a sniff that made him laugh.
"I don't see any reason to share that information with Leila unless you want to. All you have to do is be on your best behavior, and there will never be a reason for her to know. So, it's entirely in your hands."
"I'm no good at keeping secrets though. Especially not from Leila. And she always knows when I'm trying to keep something private."
"Then tell her upfront and get it over with. Just treat it casually. It's not such a hush-hush topic anymore. Not since that Grey trilogy. Even Tracy Topping has a best seller in mainline bookstores." He winked at her. "But maybe you should avoid the subject of books, if you really can't keep a secret. I'm not ready to share that much of my life with anyone but you."
"Easy for you to say. She'll think I'm some kind of pervert."
"Well, I can only imagine what she'll think of me, then. After all, I'm the big, bad, abusive guy who puts you over his lap and makes you cry."
"And makes me love you so much I'll die if I can't tell you soon," she thought, but could not bring herself to say. Instead, she turned the conversation in a more practical direction. "What if she finds out and she calls the police and reports you for abuse? What if we have to go to court? You don't think you could end up in jail, do you?"
"Do you plan to file a complaint against me?" he asked.
"Of course not." Indignation jerked her shoulders back and brought her upright in her chair.
"Then what we do on our property with our bodies is our business. Although we might find it more comfortable to live in Tennessee, if she were truly outraged and made an issue of it."
"That's just it. I don't know what she would think about it. It's not a topic I've ever discussed with another living soul. I thought I was the only woman in the world who was—well, interested."
"Then you've either bought several thousand dollars' worth of my books yourself or some syndicate is snatching them up and storing them in a spank-free zone warehouse somewhere to protect the sensibilities of the general public from such diabolical and morally repugnant topics. Either way, I have some nice little royalty checks showing up every quarter. I suspect, though, that an awful lot of people are interested at an awful lot of levels and that accounts for my income. Maybe even Leila."
She snorted. "No way. Leila is a card-carrying feminist if there ever was one."
"The very kind that doth protest too much. You'd be amazed, my dear, how little politics has to do with a bottom that itches for some meaningful contact. Leila's type sometimes just find it more difficult to articulate their needs or express their appreciation. But once they admit what they have to have, they can be the most devoted practitioners."
She was quite certain he was wrong about Leila and was equally certain she could never risk even remotely hinting at the disciplinary aspect of her relationship with Nick, yet she could hardly wait to talk about him in general. It was like being sixteen again and needing an audience for her tale of romance, because the telling somehow gave it validity. And Leila was quite the appreciative fan of all things libidinous. Except, Andee realized, just as she caught sight of her friend crossing the street and heading toward the outdoor table on the trellised restaurant patio, there was precious little salacious detail to share at that point.
They might, in fact, have been very young adolescents still testing the waters, although Nick's kisses were anything but tentative or fumbling, and the feel of his arms around her and his hands moving over her body was very assured and far more possessive than even the most self-confident teenage boy could have provided.
No, it
was not actual history she needed to share, it was future possibilities she wanted reassurance about.
Almost an hour later, with grilled chicken and goat cheese salads mostly devoured and the miniature artisan loaves picked to chunks and dredged through the flavored olive oil, she felt curiously anxious, as though she had somehow failed to provide Leila with enough detail to gain her unqualified support and good wishes.
"You mean your mystery man has been hermiting away in some rustic little cabin he probably built with his own two hands after chopping down the trees to make a clearing, just nursing his hurt feelings?" Leila asked with a scowl that was anything but encouraging.
"Of course not. That's not what I meant, at all. Nick doesn't pout or feel sorry for himself." That's my script, she realized with a sudden uncomfortable insight. "Don't you get it? He thought I'd been stringing him along just for laughs or to get more than my money's worth—or my dad's money's worth. So when I knew I'd passed the final and then I could see again, he thought I didn't need him anymore and I was letting my real feelings show to you. I can't imagine how he must have felt, except I can understand wanting to get as far away as possible. And he has a connection to the mountains. It's where his family was from generations ago, so it was like going back to his roots. Plus he actually did help his uncle and his grandfather build that cabin when he was a lot younger. Although I don't think they did an Abe Lincoln number on it."
"What do you mean a lot younger? How old is he, Andee?"
"Umh, well, he's a little over forty, I guess."
"How little?"
"What difference does that make?" She could hear the defensive note in her voice.
"None to me, unless it does to you. So are you saying you don't know how old he is?"
"Of course I do. I know everything about him. We've spent hours talking since he came back."
"And?"
"He's fifty-three," she said, ripping a new crust of bread off and dragging it through the cool white saucer that glimmered with thick golden oil and spices.
"See, that wasn't so hard, was it? So what if he's older than your father."
"He's nothing like my father."
Leila arched a brow at her. "Did I say he was? Although, now that you mention it, there are some interesting psychological implications here. If he'd retired to a condo in Hawaii, I'd say you had your hook in a sugar daddy. Not sure what the attraction of a log cabin is for you, though. I never figured you for the mountain man type."
Andee realized her right leg was swinging from its anchor over her left knee like a metronome gone mad. She uncrossed her legs, pushing both feet back under her chair, and leaned into the elbows she had planted firmly on the table. "I'm Nick's type, whatever that is, and I don't need to attach labels to him to fit someone else's politically correct ideas."
"Fine. Calm down, sweetie. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. It's just that you're about the last person in the world I would have expected to fall for an older guy. I thought you wanted to be eighteen forever. But maybe that's the attraction. Maybe he makes you feel even younger than you are. So, who cares? If you're happy, I'm happy. Now, when can I meet this perfect man?"
"He is perfect. Perfect for me, Leila. But you have to be on your best behavior. After all, his first impression of you wasn't all that great, so you've got to make up for it now."
"Or what? Should I be nervous?"
The conversation was drifting a little too close to dangerous territory for Andee's liking. "Just be nice, Leila. Surely you can manage that for ten minutes."
"So that's all you're going to trust me with him, huh? Afraid I'll tell him all your deep, dark, naughty girl secrets?"
She could feel blood rising in her cheeks. Had Leila been spying, or was she more obvious about her predilections than she had thought?
"My friends are important to me. I want them to make a good impression on Nick," she said, hating the fact that her voice squeaked when she uttered the word 'good'.
"I'm teasing, honey. You know I'll behave. It's just so weird seeing you like this. You're really into him, aren't you? I just don't understand how you could fall in love with someone you couldn't even see."
"Blind people fall in love all the time," she huffed, tossing her curls. "They look for the important stuff in relationships, not the superficial." The bread was gone and she realized she couldn't remember consuming a single bite of it. How, she wondered, had the conversation drifted so close to her skeletons in the closet? And how long would it take Leila to figure out that special bond between her and Mr. Benjamin, once she saw them together? Nick would be entirely circumspect, she was certain, so long as she kept up her own good girl facade, but she had the strangest feeling Leila would be able to read her perfectly once they were all in the same room. Something else was niggling at the edges of her mind, however, something that crystallized just as Leila made her exit with a quick hug, along with a grin and a promise to stay in close touch.
She recalled Nick's threat to discipline her in public if she misbehaved in front of other people, and, to her horror, she found she was entertaining a panty-dampening image of him doing just that for Leila's edification.
How depraved was she, Andee wondered, if such an idea inspired not horror, but a strange kind of sexual arousal? And how could she crave something and dread the possibility with such alarm at the same time? There were kinks to this spanking thing she couldn't begin to straighten out.
After a few moments she stood on shaky legs and headed back to the library, wondering if there were any books in the psychology section that could explain the reactions she would have considered truly bizarre in anyone else.
*****
Leila, delighted to have flustered her friend instead of being on the receiving end, for a change, cut class and hurried home after lunch. She needed to reread Tracy Topping's most recent post before her roommate barged into the apartment and made such activity impossible.
What was it, she wondered about her lunch with Andee, that had brought all her carefully shielded longings bubbling so near the surface that she had almost revealed them to her best friend in that teasing exchange? And what on earth would Andee think if she ever found out?
She would have to be on guard the next time the two of them were together, particularly if the mysterious Nick Benjamin was to be part of the picture.
Chapter Five
The wine had made her a little dizzy, as it always did at first, but it had never caused her to hallucinate before, at least not when she was only halfway through a glass. Still, Leila could think of no other explanation for what she had just heard.
It had sounded, even to her virgin ears, very much like the sound of two short, sharp smacks of something solid and unyielding against a less firm surface. The quick little yelp that followed the noise immediately made it almost certain she was correct in her assumption.
Except that it was impossible, of course.
Nevertheless, Leila Tremelow's heart rate had quickened, her breath had grown short, her hand, holding the glass, had trembled slightly and blood had rushed to regions where it swelled sensitive tissues, some of which were already being bathed in the slightly sticky, thicker than water fluids that were seeping from deep within her.
She scooted to the edge of the small tooled leather couch in Nick Benjamin's condo and carefully set her glass down on the low, distressed-wood coffee table, squeezing her thighs and the muscle mass just to the north of them together as she did so, and praying neither the handsome owner of the property or her best friend, Andee Carlisle, would return from the kitchen before she could collect herself and pretend she had not heard a thing. Pretend she had no idea what the sound she surely could not have heard meant. Pretend she was totally unmoved by the phantom in her imagination. Even if it were all true.
She received a small measure of grace, not because she deserved it, but because it took a few more minutes for the pair in the kitchen to settle things between them.
*****
"Probably so," he agreed, tucking the broad-cupped wooden spoon he had appropriated only moments before back into the kitchen utensil container on his granite countertop. "You can't say I didn't warn you, missy. More than once. You got exactly what you deserve, and you'll get more if you keep pushing."
She wanted to deny his assertion, but she knew it was true. As usual.
How many times had he told her she was eventually going to earn herself a public spanking, and he would not be loathe to deliver it? And how many times since Leila arrived for dinner and was formally introduced to the man she had previously known only through hurried text exchanges regarding Andee's need for eye care had she dared him to show her?
Actually, it had begun even before Leila arrived.
She had managed to be a perfect little witch all afternoon while they grocery shopped for the meal Nick had offered to prepare. She had kept up her snarky comments while she set the table in his small moss-green dining room with the cream trim and helped chop the veggies he was going to stir-fry and prepare the fruit and cheese for hors d'oeuvres.
She had seen his eyebrow quirk several times and heard the quick intake of breath that usually meant he was approaching the limits of his patience. He had even suggested she take herself off to his bathroom with a cup of tea and a steamy romance novel on her Kindle and try to soak away her naughty girl attitude while he finished the meal.
It was an offer she had scorned. But carefully. Just carefully enough to let him know what she thought of it and yet still to avoid paying a penalty. The fact that the idea he proposed was quite definitely appealing made her all the more cross when she stubbornly refused it, so that by the time her best friend arrived for the long-anticipated moment of face-to-face introduction to the man Andee loved, she was primed for trouble.
Leading Her Home (Lessons From Nick's Firm Hand Book 2) Page 4
