Exposing Victoria

by Reese Gabriel

  Shane pushed up her dress. She hadn’t bothered with the panties. They were way too wet, anyway.

  She had left her bra and her shoes as well.

  Shane said they would make nice souvenirs for Salty Sam. Though excited, Vicky had half dreaded their departure but Shane had just taken her hand and sauntered across the room. Every man there had watched with hot eyes as they left the bar.

  Vicky was completely wet and turned-on again as they made their way to Sam’s boat. Shane had entertained her with figure eights on the way back to Chase’s island, totally soaking her in the wake.

  She hadn’t objected, not with the view it gave—Shane’s shirt plastered to his chest, virtually invisible, his nipples dark and hard underneath, so delicious and tempting. Even his pants were a turn-on, the damp fabric clinging to his fine, taut buttocks.

  Studs R Us.

  Their play on the beach was just about to turn hot and heavy when a pair of sandals appeared just behind Vicky’s head. Oh, shit.

  “Shane,” she whispered fiercely. “Cut it out.”

  Shane disengaged, reluctantly. His manner changed completely when he saw Chase standing there.

  “Hey,” he said leaping to his feet. “I was, uh, just coming to see you.”

  Chase cleared his throat. “Somehow I doubt that, old buddy.”

  “You mean this?” Shane pulled Vicky to her feet, nearly yanking her arm off in his attempt to make the situation look like something other than what it was. “It’s nothing. Vicky doesn’t mean a thing to me.”

  Chase eyed her, picking up on Shane’s ill-chosen words. “I’m sure you didn’t mean to put it quite like that.”

  “Sure he did.” Vicky’s lower lip trembled. Shane might as well have sucker-punched her. Sure, by mutual agreement, it had only been a one-night stand, but he didn’t have to trash her. “Shane doesn’t give a flying fuck about anything or anyone except himself. Isn’t that right, Shane?”

  Shane’s gaze narrowed. Her reaction was confusing. But what the hell else did he expect?

  “Vicky, Kat’s just rustling up some breakfast,” Chase said. “Maybe you would like to help her?”

  “Absolutely,” she said acidly. “I’ll leave you two men to discuss your mutual conquests.”

  Vicky didn’t hang around long enough to hear the conversation, though she did manage to catch the serious, hushed tones echoing behind her on the way to the house.

  “Good,” she said aloud to no one in particular as she slammed the door behind her. “I hope Chase rips him a new one.”

  —

  Shane stared out at the ocean, wishing he was on it, better still at the bottom of it, about a thousand feet down. “Don’t start with me, Chase,” he said, trying to nip the discussion in the bud. “There’s nothing to talk about. Vicky and I had casual sex, end of story.”

  He felt the knife through his gut at the mention of endings. The future had already looked cloudy, but now it felt just plain pathetic.

  Somehow, between the joking and the passion, Vicky had sparked something in him. The way her blue eyes glinted, the way she smiled, half devil, half angel, and that soft, silky hair that smelled like springtime. Every little detail was burned in his brain. No doubt about it, Vicky was a beautiful woman inside and out, as far from a sex object as you could get. She didn’t deserve what he had just said to her. Not by a long shot.

  Chase snorted. “There was nothing casual about that little exchange, old buddy. I haven’t known Vicky long, but I can tell you she is one cool customer. She let her guard down with you. Why she did is beyond me, but she did.”

  “That’s not my problem.”

  “So what is your problem, huh? You too fucking good to talk to anybody, to tell your best friend you’re alive and not a rotting corpse in the jungle?”

  Chase pushed him hard now, chest to chest. It was coming out, all the pent-up anger.

  Shane narrowed his gaze. “Do that again and I will wipe the beach with you, friend or no.”

  “I would like to see you fucking try. Oh wait, you don’t exist.”

  “Don’t talk about things you don’t know anything about, Chase. You will end up saying things you regret.”

  Chase cocked his fist. “You ain’t seen nothing yet.”

  Next thing Shane knew they were rolling on the sand, kind of like he and Vicky though without any of the fun.

  Chase was as furious as Shane had ever seen him. He couldn’t blame the man but surely Chase knew it hadn’t been his doing, concealing the fact that he had managed to survive that terrible firefight after crawling miles back to base camp.

  “Grow up, Chase, for crying out loud,” Shane growled, fending off a blow. “You think I’ve been sitting on my ass eating bonbons? I’ve been working. You know the deal.”

  “Screw the work, Shane, and screw you. There’s more to life than work.”

  “Like what?” Shane elbowed Chase, knocking the wind from him. “Marriage? I would rather stare down a roomful of terrorists armed to the teeth than live with some woman day and night.”

  “It’s Vicky, isn’t it?” Chase challenged, managing to put Shane in a half nelson. “She got under your skin.”

  “Give me a break.” Shane knocked him back hard. “She’s just one more woman.”

  “So was Kat, until I fell for her.”

  “Now you’re pissing me off, Chase.”

  “What are you going to do about it?”

  “I’ll show you, don’t worry.”

  —

  Vicky entered the kitchen like Napoleon marching to Waterloo.

  “Vick, what’s wrong?” asked Kat, her voice full of concern.

  “Not a thing. Everything is fucking perfect,” Vicky declared. “Where are the eggs? I want a goddamn omelet.”

  Kat pointed to the refrigerator, interrupting her coffee-making. “Second shelf. You sure you’re okay?”

  “Why wouldn’t I be? You think it affects me one way or another if that idiot Shane caught me in a weak moment? The joke’s on him, anyway, Kat. That guy has boy toy written all over him. I had his fine ass, what do you think of that. And I am not looking back. Why should I, guys do it all the time.”

  Kat was silent. It was a great part of their friendship that they never went off the deep end at the same time. “You might want to separate out the eggs a little bit,” she said at last.

  Vicky looked down at the mixing bowl, a perfect blend of yolk, albumen and eggshell. “Oh crap, I wasn’t even looking at what I was doing.”

  “I could tell.” Kat took the bowl and tossed the contents in the sink. “Maybe you should sit down? I’ll get you coffee.”

  “Coffee,” Vicky agreed. Ooh, she hated that bastard Shane. Treating her like yesterday’s trash and in front of Chase no less. Still, she had to pull herself together. “What about you, Kitty Kat? You look happy enough. I guess everything worked out last night?”

  Kat leaned against the counter, sighing. “Last night was everything I’ve ever dreamed of. It’s like he’s known my body forever, Vick, and I’ve known his. But it’s only the beginning. I just want to do more and more, go deeper and deeper, you know? This morning he was talking about marking me. Isn’t that the most romantic thing in the world? I’m going to have his tattoo. He won’t tell me where. Oh god, it got me so hot. I asked him to—”

  “TMI,” Vicky cut her off. “I’m happy for you, let’s leave it at that.”

  Kat frowned, genuinely concerned. “You deserve to be happy too. Any chance of you and Shane—”

  “Happiness with that fly-by-night pretty boy ignoramus?” she snapped. “Forget it.”

  Kat eyed her. “You answered a little quick on that one, don’t you think?”

  “Give it a rest, Little Miss Happy Slave, or I will have Master run up from the beach and paddle your butt for a while.”

  Kat blushed.

  Vicky rolled her eyes. “Don’t tell me, he did that last night too?”

  “Let’s just say I won�
��t be sitting down for a while this morning,” she said proudly.

  “You know,” said Vicky, “we might have more in common than I thought. We are both masochists. At least you made your choice intentionally. I flew in blind.”

  Kat handed her a cup of coffee. “This isn’t my business…”

  “Like that ever stopped you before.”

  “It’s just that there is more to this story. Chase told me a little bit about Shane and—”

  Their conversation was cut short by the sound of shouting outside the window.

  “Is that Chase?” asked Kat.

  “Yep, and Shane,” added Vicky with a sigh. “Naturally.”

  “Oh gosh, I think they’re fighting, Vick.”

  “This just gets better and better,” grumbled Vicky. “Men—can’t live with them, can’t blast them all into space, not yet anyway.”

  Kat was already gone, hightailing it out to her beloved. “Come on,” she called from the doorway. “What are you waiting for?”

  “I have no idea,” said Vicky. “But if it doesn’t come chocolate flavored, I am not interested.”

  By the time Vicky reached the beach, things were in high gear. Shane was spinning in circles with an enraged Kat on his back. Chase was trying to get her off, telling her the fight was over and he didn’t need her to defend his honor.

  Kat, who was in a decidedly nonsubmissive frame of mind, was having none of it. She kept right on pounding Shane, calling him every PG-rated name she could think of.

  “You stop hitting my husband, you bully, you big jerk!”

  Vicky dropped to her knees in hysterics. It was the funniest thing she had seen in ages.

  “I fail to see the humor,” Shane said to her when he had finally managed to dislodge the flailing Kat and turn her over to her husband.

  “It’s not my fault if you’re too thick to get the joke,” Vicky declared, wiping the tears from her eyes.

  Shane shook his head. “You’re all nuts, if you ask me.”

  “No one did,” said Vicky, giving way to another round of laughter.

  “I’m out of here,” he said.

  “Good, and I hope you don’t intend to drop in for family holidays. Because if I see you any time in the next twenty years, so help me god, I will sue your ass for everything you’re worth.”

  “Good thing I don’t have a plugged nickel, then, isn’t it?”

  “Boohoo for you, Shane.”

  He grumbled an obscenity and walked away. Vicky tried not to stare at his ass, tried not to think how much she was going to miss those broad shoulders, the long mane of hair and that mouth, which could drive her to distraction.

  Shane had been right about one thing, with him around things sure hadn’t been boring, in the bedroom or out.

  Call him her shooting star, her once-in-a-lifetime comet, burnt out in a flash but worth an eternity of memories.

  She needed work, therapy in the courtroom. That would cure her of Shane.

  Chapter Three

  Shane had been a heartbeat away from accepting the mission. He had the pen in his hand, ready to sign the waivers when it hit him.

  For the first time in his life, he was backing down from a fight, letting a situation get the better of him.

  It didn’t have to do with any war or terrorist action. To the casual bystander, in fact, it might not seem like match at all, this battle royal of his, his opponent just five-feet-six-inches tall, a hundred twenty pounds, sapphire blue eyes and silky blonde hair.

  Vicky was sassy, a spitfire, yes, but a man slayer? Hardly.

  So what was the big deal? He had made love to her and parted ways the next day. Admittedly having the new wife of his best buddy riding him piggyback, trying to pull out his hair wasn’t the most graceful parting maneuver, but that was life.

  Call it a tactical retreat.

  With Vicky rolling on the sand, laughing at him.

  He had hurt her badly, he knew it. She was too proud, too stubborn to admit it.

  Shane had said she meant nothing to him, when they had just been intimate.

  What a lousy thing to do.

  But it was for her own good. Wasn’t that how he’d told himself he would justify hurting her?

  So why did he feel so miserable about it? Why did he keep reliving his time with Vicky, as though that one night were more important than every liaison before?

  Vicky felt like unfinished business. And Shane hated unfinished business. It poisoned everything a man touched, it robbed him of his spirit, caused him to second-guess every move and maybe get himself or a buddy killed.

  “Can’t do it,” he muttered under his breath. Right in front of the mission’s operations chief and his deputy, Shane tore up the paperwork. “You’ll have to manage this one without me.”

  The deputy looked to the chief who said, “You sure about this?”

  “Enough to not give a damn if you threaten to stop me.”

  “We wouldn’t do that. You don’t owe us, not after everything you’ve done,” said the chief. “Just tell me, out of curiosity, what changed your mind?”

  “It’s not a what, it’s a who,” Shane said. “A she, to be precise.”

  The chief angled his lips into a wry, if reluctant, smile. “No way to compete against that. May I ask her name?”

  “Victoria.”

  “It has a ring to it,” he approved.

  “She’s the most beautiful woman I have ever been with,” Shane said. “And the most difficult to manage.”

  “Then stop trying,” the chief advised.

  “Not sure what that would look like,” said Shane.

  “But it might be fun to find out.”

  “It might at that,” said Shane, shaking the director’s hand one last time.

  Actually, he had his doubts. There was little reason to expect a warm welcome if he went to see Vicky. But that sort of thing had never stopped Shane before and it wasn’t about to now.

  —

  Vicky was one unhappy camper. The Sullivan deposition had been postponed thanks to a cheap ploy by the other side’s attorney.

  “Who the hell schedules a hearing at ten thirty, leaving themselves only a half hour to get through a deposition? And how can the judge let him get away with it? This deposition was scheduled for ten, he agreed a month ago,” she fumed at Kat.

  Kat was off somewhere in space, as usual these days. “So we’ll finish it next week. Get a continuance if you have to,” she said, taking the opportunity to wave her hand in air so she could stare at the new ring Chase had gotten her.

  It was made of silver and featured a tiny, three-spoked wheel, which supposedly symbolized their secret relationship as Master and slave.

  Frankly, Vicky was over the whole whips and chains, extended honeymoon thing. Her reaction this morning when Kat had shown her the ring, in fact, had been less than enthusiastic, if not downright cynical.

  “It can’t be much of a secret,” Vicky had snapped. “The way you keep going on about it. Who else have you told so far? Kevin? The parcel pick-up people?”

  Kat had remained undaunted, even when Vicky had reminded her that this was a law office, not a kinky talk show where everyone sits on a couch and talks about who’s tying up whom and the latest slave diets.

  Kat might have been inclined to suggest a particular reason for Vicky’s ongoing irritability but she had been strictly forbidden, under pain of death, to ever mention the ‘S’ word again.

  If only Vicky could dictate so easily to her subconscious. When would they end, the dreams of Shane, hot, steamy and frustrating as hell? Night after night he invaded her bed, touching, kissing, possessing. Out of desperation, Vicky had tried sleeping on the couch but he’d managed to invade her sleep even there.

  Last night it had been a particularly intense fantasy involving a tryst with Shane in the courtroom. It would be laughable if it weren’t making her wet even now, causing her to squirm in her seat, feeling the warmth of his imaginary hands on her bottom
.

  The dream had begun innocently enough with her making an opening statement to a jury and had gone downhill quickly…

  —

  Vicky was trying to speak but she felt as if someone were staring at her, intense laser beams from behind. She spun on her heel then did a double take when she saw that the opposing attorney had been replaced by Shane. He sat there grinning. She cringed when he winked at her.

  “Objection,” she called to the judge. “This man is not a member of the bar.”

  “Overruled, he’s a member of my bar,” said the judge, who had transformed into Salty Sam, a long robe over his lanky form.

  Vicky knew she was doomed.

  “You may sit down, young lady,” said Judge Sam. “Your turn is over.”

  She was about to object to being called “young lady” when she felt Shane’s hand on her arm, brushing the material of her jacket.

  “If I were you I would take a plea,” he said, “before the judge throws the book at you.”

  “But it’s a civil case,” she told him.

  Shane laughed, the deep, rich, downright malevolent sound curling her toes.

  She tried to object again but she was hoarse. Exasperated she collapsed in her seat.

  “Ladies and gentlemen of the jury,” Shane began, looking totally hot in a double-breasted pinstripe suit that totally emphasized his height and broad shoulders. “My opponent would like you to believe she is innocent of these charges, but the truth is she’s as far from being a good girl as you can get.”

  Vicky was on her feet. She couldn’t let this pass. “Judge, this is totally out of order. I am not being charged.”

  The judge looked at Shane for direction. “What do you say, old buddy?”

  “The prosecution calls the defendant, Miss Victoria, to the stand, Your Honor,” Shane announced, his booming voice making Vicky weak in the knees.

  “But…I’m not the defendant,” she said to no avail.

  Shane snapped his fingers, commanding a bailiff to stand behind her. There was no doubt that Shane’s presence filled the room, he was in control of everything…her included.

  Her legs felt like rubber as she walked to the stand. This was ridiculous and yet she felt guilty, nervous and more than a little excited.