Dylan and Hunter had found American girlfriends in the past year. Actually, Dylan had married his artist, Monet, and was currently on his honeymoon. Monet and Hunter’s girlfriend, Annie, had taken up residence on Farpoint and Amy spent countless hours talking to them about their lives in New York, as well as their travels to other amazing places.
“I guess I should get off here. It looks like they’re about to start calling for passengers for this flight,” Harper said. “Then I’m off to see your cowboys.”
“They’re not cowboys, Harper. Marc’s a jackaroo, cause he’s only in his early twenties and Keith is a stockman cause he’s an old bastard of twenty-eight. You might want to brush up on your Aussie vocab too.”
“Jackaroo, stockman. Got it. Oh hey. Before I forget, there are some staples in the fridge to keep you going until you get to the store—milk, eggs, stuff like that. The fresh towels are in the closet at the top of the stairs and the keys to my car, if you’re brave enough to attempt driving in America, are on the hook by the foyer table. Just remember, we drive on the right side. You crazy fools drive on the wrong side.”
“Bloody hell. I’m fine taking taxis or the train. Dying to try those things anyway. There’s no way I’d risk my life trying to tackle your roads. I reckon I’d have a heart attack every time I had to make a right turn, fearing I’d smash into somebody. Those car keys will stay on the hook.”
“Chicken shit. Fine. I planned a big surprise for you too. It’s something you’ve always wanted.”
Amy perked up. She loved pressies. “What is it?”
“If I tell you, it won’t be a surprise.”
“Where is it?”
Harper laughed. “It’s not in the house…yet. So don’t bother looking for it. And you won’t know when it’s arriving, but be ready. It’ll knock your socks off! Promise.”
“Crap. I hate surprises. Will you give me a hint at least?”
Harper refused. “Nope. Just remember to keep an open mind.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“You’ll see.” Harper yawned loudly. “Damn, they better start loading this plane soon or I’m likely to fall asleep in this chair.”
“Okay. See you later, Harper.”
“Bye, Amy.”
Amy pressed End on her phone and sighed. If there was one part of the trip she regretted, it was that she wouldn’t get to meet Harper face-to-face.
She wondered what the surprise could be. The two of them had shared so many secrets in the past few months, Amy couldn’t even guess what Harper had planned for her.
A couple weeks ago they’d gotten drunk together via Skype, and Amy had told Harper things she’d never admitted to another living soul. Amy had been feeling sorry for herself for spending another weekend dateless and stuck at home, so she’d consumed a bottle of wine. On a whim, she’d drunk-Skyped Harper, surprised to find her friend also off her face.
Harper had been treating herself to early-morning birthday Bloody Marys, indulging in the same pity party. As usual, they’d turned to each other for company and spent nearly two hours laughing and sharing their dirtiest sex fantasies. Amy still blushed when she recalled the detail she’d gone into as she told Harper all about her sex-with-a-stranger dream. Of course, considering Harper’s fantasy was to participate in a ménage, maybe they were even in the red-hot-fantasy category.
She glanced around Harper’s room once more. She’d done it, found her way to America. Amy had spent hours on the internet planning her Chicago itinerary, making a list of everything she absolutely had to see before returning home.
She reached into her back pocket and pulled out her passport. Grinning at her foolishness, she lifted Harper’s mattress and stashed it as Hazel’s voice came back to her. “Don’t leave that passport out in plain sight. Someone might steal it.” Amy had asked who the blazes would want her passport, but Hazel told her to hide it just the same, so she didn’t lose it. Truth be told that was probably her boss’s biggest concern. She often lamented about Amy losing her head if it wasn’t attached. So, for Hazel’s sake, she’d keep her passport safe.
Rising from the bed, she continued exploring the upstairs rooms, walking farther down the hall and peeking into what appeared to be a catchall room. A treadmill covered with clothes sat next to boxes filled with Christmas ornaments, then there was a desk and a filing cabinet. Amy’s own elliptical back in Farpoint served the same purpose—used less for workout and more as a clothesline.
She ventured on to the guest room where she’d left her luggage. Though Harper would be sleeping in Amy’s bedroom—it was the only room available in her tiny cottage—Amy didn’t feel right taking over her friend’s space with such a warm and welcoming guest room down the hall. She stared at her open suitcase. She should unpack, but exhaustion was kicking in. Between layovers, flights and the taxi ride from O’Hare, she’d been traveling nonstop for nearly twenty-seven hours. Adrenaline could only take her so far. She was buggered.
She was about to collapse on the bed when a closed door at the end of the hallway caught her eye. She’d missed it on her first rushed tour of the house. Curiosity defeated tiredness.
The door was unlocked. Opening it, she stepped into the large room—and sucked in a deep breath.
The walls seemed to mimic her bedroom back home.
The stark white paint was covered with breathtaking color photos of some of the most beautiful places on earth. Several of the landscapes she recognized immediately from the pictures she’d torn out of travel magazines over the years. However, there were just as many places she’d never laid eyes on. The familiar ache in her chest returned as she realized how much of the world there really was to see.
This had to be Andrew’s room. No doubt he’d taken the color shots himself, a photographic reminder of all the incredible places he’d journeyed to.
“Lucky bastard,” she muttered jealously. The rest of the room was equally inviting. Andrew had a king-sized bed that looked soft as a cloud. Walking over, she ran her hand along the comforter, then the pillowcase. Silk sheets. Holy shit. She’d always wanted to sleep in a bed with silk sheets.
The room seemed less lived in than Harper’s. The top of the dresser was devoid of knickknacks. The books on the shelf were organized a little too perfectly. Even the laundry basket in the corner was empty. If Amy didn’t know Andrew lived here, she’d think this room was a second guest room. Of course, given the fact, the man traveled most of the year and kept an apartment in Los Angeles as well, it made sense that his room would look neater, less inhabited.
She considered returning to the guest room then changed her mind. According to Harper, Andrew was out of the country, spending the next three weeks on location in the South Pacific. Amy toed off her shoes then tugged off her blouse, jeans and panties. Stripping off her bra, she added it to the pile of clothes beside the bed and pulled down the sheets.
One night. She’d give herself one night between the silk sheets in the huge bed. Tomorrow, she’d move into the guest room.
Maybe.
* * * *
Andrew Shaw pulled onto the road that led to the home he shared with his sister and released a long sigh. He was fucking wiped out. The last three days had been an experiment in torture when his shoot was cancelled due to a monsoon expected to hit the island he’d intended to be make number eight on his Best Kept Secrets show. He’d been in perpetual motion, hopping from boat to plane to boat and then another plane before his producer called to say they were scrapping the visit.
His phone rang, jerking him from his misery. “Fuck.” One glance at the screen told him he wasn’t going to enjoy this phone call.
“What?” Andrew said by way of greeting.
His best friend, Mike, chuckled. “Welcome home. Is it too soon to say I told you so?” Mike, a meteorologist, had been watching the progression of the storm and had told him not to bother getting on the plane in the first place.
“Yeah. It’s too soon. Besides, you a
ssholes are never right. How did you know I was back?”
“Tom called a few hours ago. Gave me the flight times. I just dropped Mars off at his house and now I’m headed home.”
Mike served as dog sitter for his cameraman Tom’s mutt. Given the amount of time Andrew and Tom were out of the country, it was probably safer to say he and Mike were co-owners of the gigantic dog. Not that either man seemed to mind sharing.
“From the sound of your voice, I assume it was a shitty trip.”
Andrew switched on the windshield wipers and bit back a curse. All this rain was starting to piss him off. “It sucked. Did you call just to rub salt in the wound or did you want something?”
They had been friends too long for Mike to take offense at his sharp tone. “You on your way home?”
“Of course I am. Where else would I go?”
“Thought you might blow off some steam at the club. Wondered if you wanted company.”
Andrew had considered heading to Velvet Chains as soon as he got off the plane at O’Hare. In the past, it wouldn’t have even been a question. The private sex club was usually his and Tom’s first stop after a long trip. It helped ground Andrew, relax him.
Mike had introduced him to the BDSM scene shortly after Andrew’s twenty-first birthday. Mike’s father and uncle co-owned Velvet Chains, so his friend had grown up around the lifestyle. Andrew had not. His first trip had been an eye-opening, life-altering experience. Mike jokingly insisted he’d known about Andrew’s Dom tendencies since their freshmen year in high school, but he figured it was best to wait until Andrew was old enough to handle the news.
Lately, however, he’d found himself becoming bored with the action at the club. While the subs were quite pretty and more than eager to please, he struggled to find the same pleasure, the same sense of adventure he’d experienced in the early days.
“Thought you’d given up the club scene since settling down with Joanne. Married life already chafing, Mike?”
Andrew could imagine the goofy grin on his friend’s face at hearing the name of his wife. Since getting married, Mike had adopted the annoying theory that Andrew needed to take a walk down the aisle too if he ever planned to be happy.
“I’d just be going for a drink. Joanne trusts me. Although knowing my sexy girl, she’d probably insist on coming with me.”
Mike had met Joanne at Velvet Chains. There’d been no doubt the moment the two laid eyes on each other they were meant to be together. Though Andrew felt twinges of jealousy over his friend’s newfound contentment, there was no way he’d admit it.
Andrew released a weary sigh. “I’m not going out tonight.”
Mike was silent for just a moment. “Good.”
Andrew felt his temper spike again. Mike had subjected him to too many lectures about his bachelor status, insisting it was time Andrew gave up his one-night stands with strangers and started looking for a serious girlfriend. Mike could be relentless when he got an idea in his head. As it was, he’d tried to set Andrew up no less than a dozen times the past few months with friends of Joanne’s who would be “perfect for him”. So far Andrew had refused every date.
“Don’t start,” Andrew warned, well aware of where the conversation was going. He’d rather hear what a fool he’d been to hop on a flight headed straight for a monsoon than be subjected to more haranguing about settling down.
“Hear me out. There’s this friend of Joanne’s we’d like you to meet.”
Andrew gritted his teeth. “Mike—” he started.
“Before you start making excuses, I really think you should agree to a blind date with Amy. She’s exactly your type. Pretty, submissive, sexy as sin. You’ll love her.”
“Not interested.”
Mike released a long, slow breath.
If there was one thing Andrew and his friend were perfectly matched in, it was stubbornness.
“Fine.” Mike’s tone told Andrew he was far from finished, but at least his friend knew him well enough to leave it alone tonight. Even so, he wasn’t sure Mike had ever relented so quickly. Andrew must sound more exhausted than he thought.
Andrew turned into his driveway and felt a sense of relief. He was home. His own bed was close. All he needed was to sleep twenty-four hours or so, and then he’d be back in fighting shape. “Listen. I’m home now. I’ll call you tomorrow. Maybe we can get together this weekend and take in a White Sox game or something.”
“Sounds good. Get some rest.” Mike clicked off with a quick goodbye.
Andrew grabbed his suitcase from the trunk and tiredly walked to the front porch. The house was dark. Harper had left town shortly after he’d taken off for his ill-fated trip, attending some sort of teachers’ conference in Minneapolis over spring break. He hoped her mini-vacation was faring better than his had. He couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to spend their time off doing what was the equivalent of more work, but Harper was nothing if not a devoted teacher. He felt the same sense of pride that filled him whenever he thought of his baby sister. She was the only family he had left in the world and he adored her.
Locking the door behind him, he climbed the stairs in the quiet house, not bothering to turn on a light. He’d grown up in this place, knew it by heart. He treaded lightly on the third step to avoid the creak, even though he knew he was the only one home. Some habits were so tightly engrained they never left.
He glanced through the open door to Harper’s bedroom as he passed, the room bright with moonlight. As expected, her bed was empty. He paused briefly, missing her. She seldom went anywhere, so when she wasn’t home, he felt her absence deeply. It was going to be a lonely week here without her bubbly, energetic presence. He’d considered going on to L.A. to stay in his own apartment, but he’d felt the urge to spend some time in his hometown.
Continuing down the hallway, he didn’t stop until he reached his own room. The second he crossed the threshold, the hair on the back of his neck stood up.
Something wasn’t right.
He quietly placed his luggage on the floor, forcing his eyes to adjust to the darkness. The curtains in Harper’s room had been open, but his were drawn. The lack of moonlight left him blind.
Taking a few cautious steps into the room, he made his way to the window. Someone was here. He could feel it. Reaching toward the wall, he found his baseball bat. He’d played third base on his high school team, but he’d hung up his mitt shortly after heading to college. However, he’d never gotten rid of the bat, the hard wood now serving as the weapon he’d kept in the corner of his room for years.
Once he wrapped his hand around the bat, he drew it up, ready to swing. There wasn’t any movement in the room, but he could definitely hear someone breathing near the bed. Approaching slowly, he almost tripped over something on the floor. As his gaze adjusted to the dark, he noticed the pile of clothing at his feet, then he managed to make out a lump in his bed.
What the hell?
Someone was in his bed, and given their deep, relaxed breathing, they were sound asleep. Turning back to the window, he quietly parted the curtains, anxious for some light. The person never stirred. Andrew kept the bat raised as he returned to the bed.
With the moonlight shining in, he could see much clearer—and was shocked at the image of a naked woman in his bed.
He glanced around to confirm they were alone. The rest of his room looked normal, nothing touched or disturbed. The only thing out of place was the beauty who’d taken up residence between his silk sheets.
Andrew stood for several moments trying to figure out his next move. The rest of the house was quiet, but part of him wondered if the woman was here as a ruse, a distraction. Shit. He needed to lighten up on the murder-mystery books. He’d read two stories in the past three days as he killed time waiting in airports because of delayed flights.
He wasn’t even supposed to be here. The only people who knew he was in Chicago were Mike and Tom.
The woman rolled from her side to her back, treating him to a
n unhindered view of her left breast as the sheet drifted lower.
His cock responded, stealing much-needed blood from his brain.
This woman had broken into his home. Somehow she’d known the house was empty. He fought down his arousal and decided to take action, to get some answers. He carefully put the bat down, leaning it against the nightstand in case he needed to grab it again quickly.
Then he slowly reached behind the headboard, silently searching for the straps he knew were there. He hadn’t brought a woman back to the house in years out of respect for his sister, but he also hadn’t bothered to remove the restraints he’d had installed when he was younger. Once the strap was freed from its hiding place, he walked to the other side of the bed, looking for the mate.
He took a deep breath, trying to calm down. He wasn’t sure exactly what was causing the sudden racing of his heart—the anticipation of a fight or rock-hard, pulse-pounding arousal.
Moving ever so carefully, he reached for one of the woman’s wrists, dragging it toward the first restraint. If he could fasten the straps before she woke, it would make his job of questioning her easier.
Unfortunately, luck was not on his side. The woman’s eyes snapped open at his touch. She started to scream, so Andrew covered her mouth with his hand as she began to fight him in earnest. While he had to have her by almost a hundred pounds, the petite woman waged one hell of a battle. She scratched his face as he struggled to reclaim his grip on her hand. Despite her naked state, she kicked off the covers, freeing her legs to pummel his thighs with blows strong enough to leave bruises.
Forced to keep her mouth covered, lest she wake up the neighborhood with her screaming, he tried to subdue her one-handed. When that attempt failed, he released her mouth. The woman started to scream again, so he quickly grabbed her blouse from the floor and stuffed some of the material into her mouth, muffling her cries.
Her initial shock at being gagged gave him the precious seconds he needed to snap a restraint around one of her wrists. When she realized what he was doing, she doubled her efforts. With one of her hands out of play, it was easier to capture and restrain the second.
Outback Master Page 2
