When he rose to his feet again, the chill was back in his eyes. "Amy and her friend will be here soon. You're staying until then at least."
"Amy? You asked Amy here already?" Her eyes bulged. "Wait, is she the expert on conflict resolution that you called?"
"No, her friend is."
"Oh." Janey stared at him.
"It's not what you're thinking," he said with exasperation.
"What am I thinking?" She blushed.
"You're thinking I called Amy so I can fuck her."
She nodded.
"Well, you're wrong."
"But you should," she said wisely. "After I'm gone, you'll need some sexual release. You'll see."
"I'm hoping we won't get to the point of testing that," he said, sounding annoyed. "Will you go wash your face and comb your hair? You look like you've been thrown on a table and fucked hard."
"Boy, you really had me with that tender act," she said, sniffing. "Being all nice and gentle when really you just want to give orders. I'm only doing this because I want to meet Amy."
She went beyond what he suggested, showering, dressing in a blouse and pants, then combing her hair after doing a cursory search for a blow dryer, which she didn't normally use.
She was looking at her reflection in the bathroom mirror when the door opened and Nyall walked in without warning.
"Hey. What if I hadn't been dressed?"
"Then I'd faint from the shock," he said, returning her frown. "It's not like I had my mouth all over your pussy just a little while ago. Oh, wait."
"That's not funny." Her eyes stung that he would make fun of her now.
He came behind her, so achingly beautiful as he gazed at her reflection that she had to look away. "You're primping?"
"I'm trying to decide if I should pluck my eyebrows and put on makeup," she explained. "Makeup makes my skin itch. And I didn't bring a tweezers. I didn't expect to get slivers here."
"Why would you want to do all that now?"
"Because I don't want to disappoint Amy. "
"Disappoint her?"
She waved her hand. "Your mistresses are glamorous. I saw pictures on the Internet. Well, I didn't see Amy, but most of them. I don't look anything like them."
"Why should you?" He sounded cross.
"I want her to think I belong," Janey said. "I don't want her to think I'm here because you were sorry for me. I guess she knows that anyway, though. Plus it's dishonest to try to pretend I'm the kind of girl that plucks her eyebrows."
"Dammit to hell, Janey. You didn't pluck your eyebrows for me. You didn't even trim your pussy. What do you care if Amy thinks you don't look like my mistr—sex partners."
"Trim my pussy?" Her eyes widened. "Are your sex partners supposed to do that? I didn't know."
"No!" He sounded so explosive she jerked back. "You're just supposed to do what you did. I'm teaching you everything you need to know. All right?"
"Were, Nyall," she said sadly. "Were teaching me."
"Janey," he said warningly. "I'm very close to just—" He broke off at the sound of a discreet but unmistakable buzzer.
"Is that them at the door?" She tensed.
"Probably." He tilted her chin up and fixed her eyes intently with his. "You don't need to look like anything but you. I don't give a shit what Amy thinks. She wanted to meet you but you don't need to act like anyone else."
"She did? Want to meet me?" Janey brightened. "Hurry, let her in, Nyall."
Chapter 10
Janey lurked behind him as he opened the door. Out in the hallway a lanky black-haired man even taller than Nyall stood next to the most beautiful woman Janey had ever seen. She blinked, awed. This was Amy?
Mentally, Janey had envisioned a perky, cute young woman, maybe with a nose ring and combat boots.
Nuh-uh. Amy looked like all the other women pictured with Nyall on Internet photos, only more so.
Statuesque, with dark auburn hair styled shorter on one side, matching colored glasses and wearing a tailored black suit, Amy was this short of passing for a Parisian runway model. Her figure was incredible, her makeup striking, and her jewelry eclectic. Aside from a tic in her right shoulder that made her purse swing wildly, she was everything Janey had ever wished she could be.
Janey immediately felt insecure.
Amy's gaze zeroed in on Janey and she looked her up and down. "No way, you're Janey? Hey, Ny. This is Oliver Dalton, our moderator dude."
"Thanks for coming, Oliver." Nyall shook the hand of the skinny man and stood back, shutting the door behind the pair. Janey didn't miss Nyall's squeezing of Amy's arm or the quick, friendly punch she gave him in the chest. It was a little surprising, but maybe that's the way long-time sex partners liked to greet each other.
"Sure, not a problem at all," Oliver said. "I'm glad to be here. This is a terrific chance for me."
"Oliver's the author of Resynthesis, you may have heard of it," Amy said. "Changing the face of workplace counseling in the Pacific Northwest and all that shit."
"Can't say I have," Nyall said.
"Don't worry about it," Oliver said in his soft-spoken, well-modulated voice. "When Amy told me you wanted to try out my system, I knew it was the perfect opportunity to throw it out into the wild. You'll be the first in vivo couple to try professionally guided resynthesis. You must be Jane." His eyes shone out warmth behind his spectacles as he offered his hand, which Janey took shyly.
"Janey," she said, deciding that despite his nonsensical words, she trusted his compassionate-looking face.
Nyall took her by the shoulders and moved her in front of him. "Janey, say hi to my friend, Amy."
"Hello," Janey said, wondering what he was implying with the emphasis on "friend." Then, because she couldn't think what else to say to Amy, "You're very beautiful."
"Hey, thanks. I've got a system for getting the package on. Fifteen minutes flat. I'll show you sometime if you want." Amy grinned. "You're totally not what I expected. Nyall hasn't even banged you yet?"
"Behave, Amy," Nyall said.
"My sweet," Oliver said mellowly, wrapping his arm around Amy's waist. "Remember, Janey's not used to you yet. Time is the first principle of acclimation."
Amy ran her finger down his chest, and Janey guessed that they were a couple, becoming even more convinced of it when the other woman said, "I'm totally jumping on you later for the psych talk."
"Amy's best in small batches," Nyall murmured, guiding Janey to the seating area by the hand, adding to the trailing Oliver, "You're a brave man to work with her."
Amy followed them, taking a smartphone out of her purse and squinting at it. "No, seriously? None of the data after September 18? My ass is toast." She glanced up at Janey. "Nyall's so pathetic. He, like, cut me off for you. Shag him or he won't buy me any more scones."
"Thanks a hell of a lot, Winch," Nyall said, and Oliver said, "Remember that discussion we had about sensitivity to nuance."
"Oliver's a trip," Amy said. "But he's onto something with this resynthesis crap. Where are we doing this, here?" Without waiting for a reply, Amy plopped down on an armchair, pulled her feet up flat on the cushion, and propped her elbows up on her splayed knees to hold her phone. She got caught by the screen. "Incompetence? Geez, Paul, it's not like Brian friggin' pressed delete. Those guys need a latte."
"What is this that we're doing again?" Janey whispered nervously. Nyall had dragged her with him onto the sofa. She didn't like being this close to him and inched away, but he pulled her back between his legs.
"Fixing us," Nyall whispered back in her ear, and Janey moved her head away because it reminded her too much of the elevator.
"Very interesting place you have," Oliver said, taking a seat on an ottoman. "Very open. Natural light brings healing energy in through the pupils."
"It's like the boarding area at SeaTac," Amy snorted without looking up.
"You'll need to keep it down during the session, my sweet," Oliver said softly. "Now. What is all this abo
ut? Amy said you were having some relationship difficulties. Janey, Nyall, you're involved in a relationship together?'
Janey shook her head, while Nyall said, "Yep."
Oliver looked thoughtful. "I see you're not in agreement about whether or not you're in a relationship."
"Janey and I are supposed to spend the week together," Nyall said. "We have a special arrangement."
"That's true," Janey said hurriedly. "But I don't want to talk about the specifics. It's personal and private."
"Well, we might have to talk a little about it," Oliver said mildly. "So is that the conflict? Trying to come to a common ground in defining your relationship?"
"No," Nyall said. "I want Janey to stay, and she wants to go. You're here to convince her to stay."
Janey scowled and wiggled away, moving to the other end of the sofa. Nyall's eyelids lowered but he didn't stop her.
"We'll see how it goes," Oliver said soothingly. "Let's tackle this with the seven stages of resynthesis. The first stage is backtracking."
"Also known as angsting," Amy piped up. "You guys have to spill your guts. Just puke it out, all the drama."
"Er, what Amy means is that this is where you tell your side of the story," Oliver said. "Nyall, why don't you start."
"Sure," Nyall said lazily. "I wanted Janey, so I made a deal with her. I suggested she stay with me this week. I was an ass and lost my temper with her when my assistant called at an inopportune time. Now she wants to run. I want her to stay."
Janey's mouth opened and closed.
"Janey? What about your side?"
"Uh. Well, that's…that's not the whole story." Janey couldn't believe they were all sitting here, discussing this. Was this, then, how the rich half lived? "I guess I could, um. Is this private? I mean, will you talk about this with anyone?"
"Not if they value their lives, their income, and their social standing, they won't," Nyall said.
Over in the armchair, Amy lifted her head to stare at Nyall for a moment. She looked over at Janey. "You've got to fuck him," Amy said. "That's just yum."
"What do you mean?" Janey said, her face burning.
Amy waved her hand in Nyall's direction. "He's going all caveman for you."
"Oh." She bit her lip. "Nyall's being discreet to protect me. I'm a virgin," she blurted out.
"Whoa!" Amy planted her feet on the floor. "No fucking way!"
"Winch, if you—"
"Amy, I told you…"
Beep. Beep. Beep.
Janey hopped up and dashed for the kitchen. She grabbed an oven mitt and removed the browned cheesecake from the oven and then deactivated the timer. Tempted to dawdle, she made herself go back into the living room with all signs of dignity. She took her seat again slowly, aware of everyone staring at her, but she addressed Oliver with lifted chin.
"I know it's not normal at my age," she said. "But there it is. I'm a virgin and Nyall was kind enough to offer to teach me how not to be. Only I couldn't follow his rules. There are rules I have to follow if he's going to help me. But I couldn't do it and so that's that. He wants me to stay because he's sexually frustrated and can't be bothered to call someone else to relieve that problem. I don't want to. End of story."
Their jaws had dropped during her speech. Uneasily, she looked across at Nyall. He had one leg crossed sideways over the other and was leaning back, twirling a pen in one hand, a cushion shoved between his legs. Something about the hard way he was looking at her and ignoring the other two made her glance hurriedly away and fan herself.
"Er." Oliver drew in a breath and gathered himself. "All right, thanks. So now the next stage is isolating. We need to isolate the problem here exactly—what we think is really going on. Janey? Why don't we start with you this time. What do you think is the underlying dynamic here? What's really happening?"
She said instantly, "Nyall should be spending his vacation hiking, not helping me. He's being stubborn. He says he, uh, wants me but he really just wants sexual release and I'm the wrong person for that. I've figured out I'm not good mistress material."
Oliver cleared his throat. "Right. So, Nyall, what would you say is really going on? Try not to let Janey's answer influence you."
Nyall kept twirling the pen, his gaze never moving from Janey's face. "Janey's got a blind spot the size of Puget fucking Sound. She thinks I'm doing her a favor in exchange for casual sex, when what I want is to fuck the hell out of her because my dick won't calm the fuck down since I met her."
"Nyall!"
"No, Janey, it's good," Oliver said. "This is what we want. We're hearing what's in your heads, both of you. Okay, so the next stage is goaling. Goaling is where we pinpoint together where you both want to be by the end of this discussion. Now, we've already established that you, Nyall, want Janey to stay with you in your home this week, and you, Janey, want to go. What we want is a common goal. To get there, we project what happens with each outcome in terms of what's best for both of you."
"I'm not following this at all," said Janey.
Oliver frowned, then reached in his pocket and took out a pen. "Just want to make a note here. Not…following…goaling. Okay, where were we? Let's start with staying and let Nyall go first. If Janey stays with you this week, Nyall, what effect will that have on each of you?"
"If Janey stays with me, I'll be happy," Nyall said briskly. "There's no downside."
"Okay, happiness for you. What about for Janey, Nyall? How does staying benefit or hurt her?"
Nyall's eyes hooded. "I take care of her. She gets her sex certificate. I keep her from getting hurt."
"Good. Now your turn, Janey." Oliver smiled at her encouragingly.
Janey knew her face was beet red. "I don't understand your answer, Nyall," she said, looking at him. "You wouldn't be happy."
"Why don't you address me, Janey," Oliver advised. "Not Nyall."
She made herself look at Oliver, but she was aware of Nyall's fixed stare. "If I stay, I get everything but Nyall gets nothing. He, uh, he makes me feel, uh…" She looked helplessly over at Amy for confirmation of Nyall's lover-as-magician status, but the other woman's nose was buried in her phone again.
"Nyall makes me feel amazing," she hurried on. "But I'm not experienced so I can't teach him anything new and he doesn't actually want to learn how to cook. He's rich and important. He has business obligations that are a really big deal. If I stay, sure, he gets some sex but he says that's just sex and not a big deal and I forget the rules. That means his work suffers and he gets mad and I'm a crybaby. I'm pretty sure that makes me high maintenance. He wouldn't be happy and I wouldn't be happy and there'd be more of this." She pointed to her wet eyes.
"Janey!" Nyall exploded, looking livid. "You promised you'd stop—"
"No yelling, please, Nyall," Oliver said soothingly, holding up a hand. "We don't raise our voices during resynthesis. The idea is to listen, not dominate the conversation. So Janey, why don't you move on to the outcome you see if you go away instead of stay."
She nodded. "Going away is much better. If I go, Nyall's life can return to normal."
"What about your life?" Oliver asked.
"Well, sure, I'll be sad, but that's only because I was silly before and made this into something way more important than it was." Realizing her honesty wouldn't help her cause, Janey added reassuringly, "I was super lucky to meet Nyall on that elevator and I'll never regret anything. He's already taught me so much. He truly doesn't have to worry." She nodded emphatically. "I'll find somebody else to finish the lessons if necessary. A nice, decent, regular guy. I'm sure I just haven't been patient enough. They can't all be sleazeballs. It's really okay."
That should relieve Nyall of any guilt about not fulfilling his promise, she thought. Even if it wasn't exactly true. She couldn't imagine doing what she'd done with Nyall with anyone else, but he didn't need to know that.
"What about you, Nyall? Let's hear your thoughts on what happens if Janey goes," Oliver said.
Janey fo
llowed his gaze and was caught; Nyall's teeth were bared and for a moment, she had the bizarre idea that he was about to launch himself at her.
"You'd fucking better not," he growled, "let another man touch your pussy, Janey."
"Ah, dude," Oliver said, sounding flustered.
Janey's hands flew to her cheeks. Her gaze encountered Amy's. The woman's attention had finally been torn from her phone.
"Nyall, chill. You're freaking her out."
"Shut up," he said, recapturing Janey in his stare. "Are you getting me, Janey?"
She shook her head, frowning.
Loudly, Oliver cleared his throat again. "Nyall, the question is really what emotional and lifestyle effect will Janey's leaving have on you and her. That's the kind of thing we're looking for here."
"If she leaves," Nyall said deliberately, "I'll be fucking upset. Why the fuck do you think you're here? And she'll be fucking upset too because I don't have time for that shit and I'll be in a bad mood when I come to fetch her back to where she fucking belongs. Are we done here?"
"Wait!" Oliver sounded excited. "No, this is great. You're a little ahead of the game, but you're advancing to the next stage of resynthesis. Blaming. This is where you get it all out in the open, all the dark forces inside you. Just say what you're feeling. Nyall, why don't you go on with your train of thought? I think we're all feeling the emotion here."
Janey was bemused—by Nyall's impassioned speech, by Oliver's enthusiasm about dark forces. She caught Amy's eye again.
He's good, the woman mouthed. Janey stifled a hysterical giggle.
Nyall's tone was disbelieving. "Blaming? Sure, I can do that. Janey, this whole thing is your fault because I fucking want you and only you and you're punishing me for screwing up because of some idiotic idea you have about my being out of your league."
She gasped. Did he really want her? Her, Janey, specifically?
"Me?" she said, just to be sure. "Janey Pankowski."
He rolled his eyes, then reached out and dragged her by the legs along the sofa. "No, the queen of England. Of course you. You're not exactly interchangeable." Janey shrieked a little as she was yanked close against Nyall's body.
Heat Exchange (The Alpha Billionaire's Virgin Book 1) Page 12
