by Starla Kaye
Looking out his window at the downtown traffic as the 8-5'ers fled the area, he thought about how hard he'd tried to avoid her today. Out of sight had not been out of mind. Every time she escorted a client back to his office he'd been tortured by inhaling her sensual scent, or by seeing her gentle smiles--for the client, not him. As if those things hadn't been bad enough, he'd remembered the night she had come to the office wearing the trench coat from his fantasies. Only she hadn't been naked underneath it as in his fantasies, but damned close. That dress she'd worn with the heart-shaped cutout exposing her bare bottom... He had thought he would have a stroke right then and there as he'd gaped in awe! Then he'd painted that bottom red... And then they'd made love right here in his office, on the floor. Crazed. He had been crazed with need for her, just like he had been for the last few nights.
Damn! How was he supposed to work here with all of that repeatedly going through his thoughts? And he had hours and hours of client files to read over and deal with.
Before he could grumble another complaint to himself, his cell phone rang. Instinctively he knew it would be Valerie. He wasn't sure he wanted to talk to her, but he answered anyway. "Jett," he said, in case it wasn't her on the other end of the line.
"I'm an artist, more specifically an oil painter," Valerie stated bluntly. "A respected one. A successful one."
He didn't know what to say, so he just sat there stupidly.
"Just so you know, I have two showings coming up in the next few months. And I've got two commissioned projects right now that I'm supposed to be working on...instead of spending time filling in at your office...where you don't want me."
He sensed she was about to hang up on him because he hadn't responded yet. "Congratulations." Couldn't you have shown a little more enthusiasm? his inner voice chastised him.
"Whatever."
"I don't know what you want me to say. I'm glad you're doing something you like. Finally."
He probably should not have added finally, and that was confirmed when she got snippy again.
"I shouldn't have told you. Sorry I called, sorry I'm bothering you."
His stomach clenched when he heard the catch in her voice. She was near tears, because of him. Because he couldn't stop being a jerk. Almost desperately before she could hang up he said, "I'm coming home."
"Why?" she questioned cautiously. "To give me that spanking you think I earned today? Which I didn't, I might add."
"I'm still mulling that over. But I'm coming home."
Valerie stormed into the house and went straight to her bedroom. She threw herself on the bed and hugged a pillow. A second later she threw the pillow across the room. It knocked over their wedding picture on the dresser and she gasped in horror, practically flying over to pick up the photo.
A tear trickled down one cheek; a second slipped down the other cheek. This had been one horrible, rotten, never-do-over-again day. Ending with her getting mad at Jett on the phone as she'd been driving home. She shouldn't have called him. But after dealing with his long-suffering attitude today and knowing how none of them--especially Jett--didn't think she had anything more important to do than satisfy their needs... Well, she'd left the office feeling testy. Even if both Aaron and Tom had told her she'd done a good job today. Jett hadn't said any such thing.
So she'd called him, blurted out the art thing. She had wanted him to be proud of her, happy for her. His simple 'congratulations' had lacked sincerity. To be fair, she'd dumped the information on him. He hadn't seen her work in years. Now she didn't even have one finished piece of art work to show him. And she'd done what he hated: she'd pushed him yet again. She'd practically demanded that he show her respect. Respect had to be earned, she knew that.
Another tear fell. Pitiful. She was acting like a child. She didn't need to have her ego stroked by Jett. She didn't need his approval in any manner. But she wanted it. Dammit.
Coming home. He would be here any minute now. Would he actually spank her? Now that she considered her snippy attitude in the office and her angry call to him, she might actually deserve a session over his knee. That was certainly depressing.
But he'd said he was "mulling that over," so maybe she would not go to bed tonight with a hot bottom. Maybe he would just tumble her into bed and drive them both mindless like he'd done the last couple of nights. Sure the sex had been great, but something had been missing. Something like real warmth, real concern for each other...beyond what it took for each of them to reach that mind-blowing climatic moment.
Valerie hugged the photo to her chest. She wanted more this time. She wanted romance.
"I've changed my mind," Jett said from behind her, making her jump.
She spun around, heart racing. "You must have sped all the way home." Then she glanced in the direction of his gaze. Uh-oh. The pillow. The fallen over perfume bottles she hadn't stood up again. Uh-oh.
"Bit of a tantrum, huh?" He sounded disapproving, but not as much as sometimes. "Probably needed to vent some temper after our talk, after the day you had. Still..."
She carefully set the framed wedding photo back on the dresser and straightened the bottles as well. "I've got this hot little French maid outfit," she said, hoping to sidetrack his thoughts from what he had in mind.
He sucked in a breath. "French maid. Damn. Another fantasy."
"Want to see it?"
"Are you serious? Of course I do." He tugged off his suit jacket and tie, tossing them on the bed, and then sat down.
"You're going to sit there and watch me put it on? Then what? Watch me take it off for you?" She walked to her large walk-in closet, excitement swirling through her.
"No, dress in there. I want to wait for the whole fantasy effect." His tone turned husky as she disappeared into the closet. "Then I'm going to savor it for a few minutes. Then..."
Valerie was undressing and re-dressing in record time. She already had on black thigh-high stockings and it didn't take long to pull on the French maid garter ruffle bustier and attach the garters to the stockings. Glancing around, she spotted some spiked black heels and slipped them on. Her stomach was fluttering with anticipation as she prepared to give him this gift.
As she stepped back into the bedroom and saw his nostrils flare and eyes immediately darken, she forgot about her rotten day. All that mattered was this man, this moment. She held up the little feather duster she'd grabbed just before leaving the closet. Sliding into her role, she asked huskily, "And what would you have me do, Sir?"
His eyes were sweeping her from head to toe, and he was grinning wickedly. "Have you been a naughty maid today, Miss Valerie? Do you need a spanking?"
Before answering, she met his gaze, wondering if he was still mad, if he intended a real punishment spanking...which she didn't think was deserved. He shook his head and she hoped she read him right. Hoped he was only going along with this little game. She took a chance.
"I only misbehaved a teeny, tiny bit, Sir." She sashayed toward him, enjoying the way he seemed mesmerized by the way the lace ruffles on her corset swayed with each step. "I don't want to be spanked, Sir."
He sucked in a shuddery breath as she stopped in front of him. "But you will be spanked. You must be spanked."
He sat perfectly still and waited for her to slip into position. She did, quivering all over.
He moved his hand slowly over her bottom covered by tiny black lace panties. He toyed with the ruffles that had moved up to above her buttocks as she'd stretched over his lap. Then he fingered the garter straps. Every touch made her shiver, made her heat, made her ache.
"I'm sorry, Sir."
He carefully pulled the panties down to just below the lower curve of her cheeks. "Such a shame to have to turn this sweet bottom red. But then, you were naughty."
"Yes, naughty." She waited, wishing he'd get started.
She'd barely thought that when the first swat landed. Lightly. And then another swat found the other cheek. Harder. He continued that way what seemed like forever: lig
ht, harder, alternating which cheek got the various swats. She was lost in a fog of need, squirming, heating, warm and wet between her legs.
"Are you ready now for your real spanking, my naughty maid?" His voice was gruff, his breaths labored.
"Yes, Sir. Please, Sir." She wanted to yell out, "Just do it! Spank me, and then take me!"
The spanking changed from slow and sensual to something more like actual punishment. Maybe some of his earlier frustration with her had resurfaced. His hand came down more sharply, landed faster and faster. Now her bottom was on fire, not as hot as other times, but she'd feel the aftereffects for a while tonight.
Then the intensity changed again. The spanking went back to being slow, sensual, and playful. Her wriggling was out of need to feel him inside her, rather than from pain. "Jett, please..."
"Time to stop this little game." He was already helping her stand. "Take it off. Now."
That was his last sane word, her last calm thought for a long while.
But when they'd finished making love, when they'd both settled down again, he left her there and returned to his bedroom. She cried herself to sleep, worried now more than ever before.
Chapter Five
Jett once again eased into the flow of traffic heading downtown. Somehow he had made it through a week of Valerie working at his office. As it turned out, she made an exceptional receptionist/secretary. In the past when she'd worked for them, she'd been overshadowed and overwhelmed by Abigail. After Valerie had left the office Friday afternoon, both Aaron and Tom had admitted that they would much rather she worked for them than the drill sergeant. Not that it would happen. Still, even Jett had felt less tension in the office, except between he and Valerie. And their clients loved her. She was the bright spot in their cold office--or so Martha Hathaway had boldly told him the other day.
He shook his head sadly. Martha had been right. As he'd left work that night, he'd taken a second to stop in their reception area. It had finally hit him--just like it had at home in his bedroom--he hated the way it looked. Stiff, uncomfortable chairs. Too much black. No vibrant colors, no warmth at all. He and his partners needed to discuss the matter...sometime. Everyone was too busy right now. His schedule for the week ahead had looked horrific when he'd checked it before leaving Friday.
He gripped the steering wheel in frustration and thought about the weekend. They had more or less gone "to their separate corners," each needing space. He had met with a new client at the country club early Saturday, spent most of the rest of the day in his office trying to get a handle on upcoming meetings. Sunday he'd worked in his home office. All of that work and he still felt overwhelmed.
Curling his fingers tighter around the steering wheel, he also felt guilty, about Valerie. She had spent most of her time out in the pool house where she evidently worked on her painting. He should have at least gone out to look at some of it. He really was curious. He remembered seeing a few pieces she'd painted in the first year of their marriage, and then she'd seemed to stop painting. It now occurred to him that maybe she'd stopped because he'd been a jerk. He hadn't encouraged her, or really even commented on the paintings--now that he thought about it. Artists were temperamental, he knew that. And he'd hurt her; seriously hurt her by his lack of interest.
The traffic was getting thicker, moving slower. Monday mornings were the pits. He should have gotten up sooner, but he'd been too damn tired to crawl out of bed. His lonely bed. He hadn't made love with Valerie since a week ago, and it felt like forever to his starving body.
Your choice. You chose to let the problems fester between you and Valerie. You avoided her more than she avoided you.
That pesky inner voice was back to haunt him with truths. But early last week he'd decided to let her go and he'd end the marriage. The new problem was that he wasn't really sure he wanted to do it. He had a hell of an ego and she'd bruised it by leaving him. Apparently he was every bit as stubborn as she claimed. He couldn't quite get beyond her actions. He didn't want to be hurt again.
She was hurt, too. You're hurting her now.
The truth of that thought angered him. He didn't like treating her badly, but he struggled with stopping his hot-cold treatment of her.
Jett shoved the emotional wreck of his personal life to the back of his mind. He didn't know how to make things right with Valerie...or even if he should. What he had to concentrate on now was the full schedule of appointments today. That thought was pretty damn depressing, too.
A half hour later he finally made it to the office's parking lot. By now his mood had turned really sour. The dreary day around him complete with heavy gray clouds promising miserable weather of some kind later and the bitterly cold wind only made his mood worse. It went downhill even more when he walked into their suite of offices and found Abigail practically glowering at him. He ground his teeth, gave her a curt nod of greeting, and started across the reception area.
"You had an appointment with your partners a half hour ago," she stated flatly. "And I've already made your airline and hotel reservations. The confirmations are on your desk."
Halfway across the room, Jett stopped. "What airline reservations?" He hadn't even known about the appointment with his partners. Why hadn't one of them called him?
As he looked at her, she didn't even spare him a glance as she continued typing on the keyboard. "To Chicago. You'll have to ask Mr. Shelby about it. I simply follow orders."
Since when do you simply follow orders? Even if she would be hard to replace, Jett knew she had to go. She involved herself in their personal lives, which annoyed them all and none of them had taken her to task about it. She was kind of scary. And she believed that she ran the office instead of the three partners. Just walking in the door he'd felt tense. No, this wasn't a good working situation. But he didn't have time to deal with her at the moment. So he chose not to respond, even though he sensed she was primed and waiting for it. Instead he strode down the hallway toward Aaron's office.
You could be home in bed, making love to your beautiful wife.
He scowled. This was not the time to be thinking about Valerie, or about sex. Definitely not about sex with Valerie. Yet his body now seemed to only want to think about sex...and Valerie.
Still frowning, he knocked sharply on Aaron's open office door. Aaron and Tom were sitting in the client chairs in front of Aaron's meticulously neat desk. As they looked in his direction, he hoped his slacks were loose enough to hide his frustrating problem of late with being too easily aroused. Stop thinking about Valerie. Stop thinking about sex. God, he was pitiful.
"What is this about me going to Chicago? When? And why?" He walked into the room and set his briefcase on the black leather sofa beside the door.
Aaron's face mirrored concern. "Alfred Haverly has a serious problem with his executive staff in his Chicago office. He sees it as potentially leading to a division within the ranks of all his branch managers. He wants you to join him there, today. He wants you to step in and mediate this budding disaster."
"He's your client," Jett stated in frustration, pinning Tom with a pointed look.
Tom didn't appear particularly happy either. "We haven't been getting along that well lately. If the firm is going to keep his business--and we need to do that, you're probably going to have to take over his account. Starting now. He specifically asked for you this time."
"Shit," Jett muttered vehemently, surprising his partners. "The timing couldn't be worse and you know it."
"Because of Valerie," Aaron said matter-of-factly.
"She'll understand," Tom stated, although it didn't sound as if he cared whether she did or not.
Jett wasn't so sure about her understanding. He knew that part of their problems were because he had always almost lived and breathed business. He had finally started to realize that he'd put it first in his life, above her. But it had been his habit for so long that he hadn't even noticed, until too late.
"Well," Tom prodded, "Are you going to take care of bu
siness and go to Chicago?"
There were times when Jett wasn't positive he even liked being associated with Tom Wilson. If it weren't for Aaron, he probably wouldn't. At some point in the future, the three of them were going to have to sit down and seriously talk about their working relationship. Not now, though. Tom was right; the firm needed Haverly's business.
"I'll go." He picked up his briefcase, and then before he could turn to walk away, Tom hurried over to thrust a file into his free hand.
"I've written out all the details about what Haverly told me. You can read it over on the plane."
He gave Tom an irritated frown for good measure and headed back to his office to grab the reservation confirmations off his desk. A minute later he strode to the reception area and even before he could question her, Abigail briskly informed him that she'd already moved his appointments around for the rest of the week. He left the offices feeling disgruntled. He didn't like feeling out of control, and his life was definitely out of control both at the office now and at home.
As he left the building surrounded again by the dreary day, his mind swirled with thoughts about all the details to work out before he left town. His appointments had been taken care of, and he didn't have any current rush jobs with his own clients. He needed to pack, but that wouldn't take long. And he needed to tell Valerie.
His stomach knotted. With the way things were between them right now, she'd probably be glad to see him gone--completely gone from the house--for a few days.
Maybe she'll do what she did the last time you went away on business while there had been a lot of hard feelings between you. But maybe she'll pack up and disappear for good this time.
