by Joey W. Hill
It made sense now, what had dredged up the same attitude he had after a bad therapy session. Despite the fact he likely wouldn’t welcome it, she crossed the room and touched his arm, drawing his green eyes to her. “You deserve her, Ben. You belong together. She loves you tremendously. And you staying here on the evenings when you can’t make it all make sense? It’s stupid and wrong, and it hurts her, shuts her out.”
He gave her a narrow look. “You finally decide to put down the whip and see a guy without a leash, after how many years, and you want to talk to me about shutting people out? Sounds like you’re the real expert on that. Mistress.”
The derision in his tone was intended to cut, and it did. It was ironic that she recognized the tactic so well, exactly because of what he’d just pointed out. They weren’t all that different. Except she could step back from this and see his misery. His fear.
She dug her nails into his wrist, right above his insanely expensive Louis Vuitton watch. “Ben O’Callahan, you’re being rude and cruel. Do it again, and I’ll slap your ear through your head.”
His jaw tightened further. “I didn’t ask you to come in here. And if you draw blood and get it on my cuff, you’re paying for the dry cleaning.”
“Stop it,” she said. “Ben, think about Dana, and her PTSD. She worked through it, because she wanted to heal, to be the best person possible for Peter. He loves her so much, doing anything less is unacceptable to her.”
He stared at her, then his attention shifted to the window. Sensing a similar shift of his mood, she touched his jaw. “What you’re doing, trying to heal the scars of the past to be a better person for yourself and Marcie, it would be tremendously difficult for anyone. But you’re doing it, Ben. You are a remarkable man. I think you forget that far too often.”
When his gaze flickered, she caught a glimpse of what she was painfully aware lay behind the formidable Master, the exemplary lawyer. The younger version of himself, so unsure of his own worth.
“Let Marcie be everything for you that you want to be for her,” she said gently. “That’s the deal, and as much a part of healing as anything else.”
He didn’t say anything, but when she dropped her hand to his arm again, he glanced at it. “You’re such a pain in my ass,” he said gruffly.
“Yes. I love you too.” The worst had passed. She squeezed him, moved back toward the door. “I’ll take care of the affidavit with Stacie. You get ready to tell them your good news. They’re going to be thrilled.”
Coming out into the office area, she saw the insulated bag with her homemade lunch on her desk. She’d left it in Max’s truck by accident, but of course her SEAL had noticed, brought it up for her. The gesture cut some of the tension the confrontation with Ben had provoked, but not as much as she would have liked. She rubbed her forehead, rolled her shoulders.
At least when she came around her desk, she noticed the light on her phone that indicated Ben’s line was engaged. It stayed that way for nearly ten minutes, telling her it was likely that he’d called and talked to Marcie. Either way, when he emerged from his office and came toward the boardroom for their pre-Omni Royal strategy session, he looked easier.
She sat in on that meeting, but she was relieved it would be a short one. Ben’s turmoil had obviously pushed a few of her own buttons. What she deserved, what she wanted. The silt everyone brought into their relationships. She felt like the lid of a kettle, sitting on a building pressure.
Ben’s good news would help distract her. She hoped. As Matt concluded the meeting and they all shifted, preparing to rise and head out, Ben cleared his throat. Absently, she noted all of them looked so handsome today, dressed in their power suits and ties. Any female attendees of the Omni Royal meeting were in for a treat. How in the hell did Jon’s dark hair always look so gorgeous and silky, feathered back from his brow, the tips brushing his shoulders? Rachel swore he didn’t wear any hair product, which simply confirmed that God was female, and She liked looking at men more than women.
“There is one last discussion point, though I don’t want it recorded, in case it comes back to bite me on the ass, which I’m sure it will.” Ben shot Janet a significant look. “Marcie and I are getting married. In the spring.”
“You aren’t already married?” Peter lifted a brow. “You’ve been so pussy-whipped since you hooked up with that girl, I figured it was already a done deal.”
“So says the guy who gave his wife a clone of himself as a limo driver.”
Dana had always been very flirtatious with Max, part of her M.O. as a hardcore sub who liked to brat for punishment. Even during her earlier discussion with Peter’s wife, Janet hadn’t reacted personally to that aspect of their relationship. But now Janet thought of what she’d said to Max about Dana, in their intense session at Club Progeny. He’d taken that as part of the scene, but given the twinge she felt now, Janet wasn’t so sure she hadn’t meant it.
Had Peter ever shared Dana with Max? It wouldn’t fit with the K&A men’s usual code of keeping everything within their circle, but there were certain areas she didn’t delve into too deeply for specifics.
Really, she was going to go there? She needed to do her own personal therapy session if she was getting bogged down in things she normally understood quite well.
Lucas grinned. He came around Peter to embrace Ben as the K&A lawyer rose. “Congratulations. Don’t ever forget what a lucky bastard you are. Or I’ll be forced to personally beat your head into a wall to remind you.”
“Like Marcie wouldn’t take it off with my restaurant-grade meat cleaver if I forget.”
“It won’t be your head, my friend. It—”
She’d been reaching for her coffee mug. It slipped out of her fingers as they jerked in reaction. She grabbed for it, a mistake, because it was already tilting. She managed to turn a simple spill into a spinning arc of coffee that splattered her tablet, her chair, the carpet, and the front of her pale yellow suit, one of her favorites. As well as her wrist, and it was still quite hot.
“Damn it all.”
The men reacted like a well-oiled machine. Peter brought a damp cloth from the sidebar and pressed it to her arm. Lucas retrieved the cup from the floor as Jon dropped a towel on the floor to mop the excess out of the rug. Their quick jump to her rescue made her eyes sting with an appalling emotional reaction.
Ben brought two additional wet cloths, one for Jon to soak the stain on the carpet, and another for her clothes, which he handed to Peter, since the operations manager was still holding the compress to her arm.
Peter considered her thin blouse, the coffee making it stick to her skin, then extended the cloth to Janet. “I’d do it,” he teased, “but you might file a harassment suit against me.”
“If it was one of the others, no,” Ben said dryly. “But due to your well-known obsession with women’s breasts, your ass would be nailed.”
As the men grinned at her, she tried to smile back. That was when her body betrayed her yet again. Two of the threatening tears made the leap, started sliding down her face. “Damn it.” She snatched the cloth from Peter, started wiping the front of her ruined suit. Her fingers were trembling.
A hand gripped her arm, lifted her out of the chair, putting her against a solid, reassuring male chest. Of all the people she’d have expected to step forward at that moment, it was both the biggest surprise yet the most inexplicably suitable choice to find herself in Ben’s arms. Heedless of what the coffee might do to his clothes, he held her close, letting her take shuddering breaths against a wall of muscle as she fought for control. “It’s all right,” he said against her hair. “Falling in love sucks, doesn’t it?”
She couldn’t help it, she laughed, a broken sound. Then, before she could get uncomfortable about the intimacy, he’d turned her toward Matt. With that exceptional intuition they all had, Ben knew Matt was the one man she’d trust with her raw emotions for more than a few seconds. However, Ben’s hand remained on her shoulder, massaging. Peter clasp
ed the other shoulder, Jon squeezing one of her hands as Lucas stroked her hair. Matt held her other hand against his chest while he rubbed her back.
As part of her rather extensive classified personal knowledge of the team, she knew the men had more than once worked together to sexually dominate and give a woman the erotic experience of her life. Each of their wives—or intended wives, in Marcie’s case—had been the recipient of that enviable experience. As amazing as that idea was, she wondered if any of them had ever thought of calling on the five of them when the woman in question needed a good cry. The fortress of protective male reassurance was like being inside a warm comforter on a rainy day, with a bottomless thermos of rich hot chocolate at hand. It was as overwhelming an experience as an erotic one.
She and Matt had a special connection through her bloody past, but it was the first time she realized the K&A men—all of them—saw her as one of theirs, her family when she had no other. They’d closed around her, sheltering her from the world.
“You’re going to be late for your meeting,” she managed. Matt squeezed her fingers.
“I’ll make an even grander entrance if I’m late. Send the message that my ass is the most significant one to kiss.”
She lifted her head. She’d left tiny dots of moisture on Matt’s white shirt. Her tears, she realized. She glanced up as Matt used his handkerchief to dab at her face, then closed her fingers around the cloth before she could fuss at him for the babying. He gave her a faint smile.
She took a couple deep breaths. Steadied. When she did, he nodded, touching a brief finger to her cheek in approval.
“I’m sorry for yelling at you, Janet,” Ben said. When she turned in Matt’s grasp, the lawyer brushed her arm, another reassurance. “I’m a total prick.”
“You know that wasn’t it.” Gathering her courage, she met each of their gazes, accepted the same thing she’d seen in Matt’s expression. Caring and understanding. “Thank you, all of you. You’ve made it better. Now please get the hell out of here and let me go back to being me.”
Lucas brushed the tender line of her throat with his knuckles. Peter handed her the damp cloth he still held. “Run some more cold water over your arm. There’s some topical in the first-aid kit if you need it, but usually air’s the best thing.”
She nodded. They exchanged glances with Matt, then, based on that unspoken communication, the other men filed out, leaving her with her boss.
“I really am fine. I know you’ll be angry if I say I’m sorry, but you know how mortifying I find something like this.”
“I do.” His serious dark eyes twinkled. “But you’ve given us verifiable proof you’re human. We’ve had a standing bet about it for some time now.”
“Oh?” She sniffled, trying not to well up again as he pressed his large fingers over her own, reminding her that she was holding his handkerchief. “Who won? Or is that information going to piss me off?”
“Probably, but I’ll tell you anyway. I did.” He winked at her. “In the beginning, Jon thought you were a very sophisticated robot and Peter agreed. He said you were a top-secret prototype I was demo’ing for the military, trying you out as a potential sleeper assassin. Ben’s money was on you being Satan’s mistress. He told us we’d have to forward his winnings to him, since he couldn’t provide verification until he died and ran into you in Hell. Lucas and I were the two who believed you were human. The bet was for how long it would take to indisputably prove your humanity or lack thereof. I beat Lucas’ estimate by about a year. Of course, I probably owe a portion of my winnings to Max, since you might have held out until Lucas’ projected date without him.”
“If you tell Max about any of this, I will put you in the industrial shredder in the basement.”
With a smile, he leaned forward, pressed his lips to her cheek, his hands closing on her shoulders once more. “We love you, Janet.” He spoke against her temple, making her close her eyes, her heart aching. “Tell me what you need, you’ll have it.”
“You gave it to me, all those years ago. And you haven’t stopped giving since. Now please, at the risk of repeating myself, get the hell out of here. I need to deal with the carpet and my suit.”
“Both of which you will charge as company expenses. Don’t let me find out you paid for it, or I’ll transfer you to Ben’s area for the next six months.”
She snorted. “I’m not scared. You couldn’t survive that long without me.”
“You’d be surprised what I’ll do to prove a point.” His fingers tightened on her. “Janet, I mean it.”
“Oh fine.” She shrugged him off irritably. “Shoo.”
He chuckled, stepped back. “I leave all of it in your capable hands, as always. But you know where we are if you need anything.”
“That’s my line, thank you.”
“Yes, it is.” He dropped one more kiss on her forehead, his lips curving when she shrugged him away with an irritable noise. “See you this afternoon.”
He strode toward the door, relieving her with his matter-of-fact acceptance that she was back at the helm. Given how intuitive the five men were, it was unlikely they’d even mention it again…unless they felt it needed mentioning, and she’d make sure it wouldn’t.
She surveyed the carpet, already thinking of the local vendor K&A used when the carpets required deep cleaning. First, though, she’d better spot treat her blouse and coat until she could get them to the dry cleaners at lunch. She had a spare change of clothes here, for the occasional all-nighter required by some of K&A’s more ambitious projects.
As she moved to take care of that, her office area quiet with all her men gone, she saw her cell phone had a text, not a surprise. Picking it up, she read it.
How about we make it a long weekend in Texas and do some camping? I promise it will be fun. I miss you already, Mistress.
She closed her eyes, pressing the screen to her forehead. After another moment, she replied.
If it isn’t, I’ll tie you to a rack and give you a full body wax.
She’d found the number for the carpet cleaning company when her phone buzzed again.
The rack part sounds intriguing. Pass on the wax. You like my manly body hair.
She pursed her lips. Yes, the rack did sound intriguing. And the fact he gave her the idea he’d be okay with it made it even more tantalizing. But camping…hmm.
She sighed. Matt had said to let him know if she needed anything. She wished he could erase the last member of that gang from Max’s mind. She wanted to attribute her uneasy feeling about it to echoes from her past making her paranoid, but she didn’t think so. Dale had told her. I can promise you it occupies one-third of his brain… And yet it had happened years ago. What if they found the man in Mexico, or South America, and Max went after him? Or if he went after him here, and was caught or injured? Or killed?
She firmed her chin. She wasn’t some swooning heroine, waiting for Fate to trample her. It was obvious Max’s only real fear was that of being less than the man he felt he was supposed to be. So she would figure out how to deal with this. The way any Navy SEAL’s wife, girlfriend—or Mistress—had to figure it out.
* * * * *
Ben checked his watch as he came out the front door, saw Max and the limo waiting. Peter, Jon and Lucas would be following in about an hour, because only Ben and Matt were needed for the first agenda items. Matt wouldn’t push it too late, but he’d make sure Janet was okay. Even so, Ben had a few minutes to kill. He could duck into the back and arrange some documents…
Or not.
Max stepped in front of the passenger door, blocking his entry. Sometimes he did the door-opening routine, usually if Matt needed to appear impressive, though for the most part Matt didn’t waste a lot of time on that kind of shit. But Max’s intent wasn’t to open the door for Ben. From the expression on his face, Ben thought it more likely he was considering Mel Gibson’s Lethal Weapon 2 maneuver, hammering Ben’s head in the door.
“Problem, Max?”
“And?”
Max’s cool gray eyes fixed on Ben’s. “I get that you and she lock horns sometimes, and that’s part of your deal. But it’s time you stop talking to her like that. Period.”
Ben’s kneejerk reaction was to set aside his briefcase, step toe-to-toe with the tight-assed, muscle-headed bastard and ask him who in the fucking hell did he think he was talking to. Then he thought about the tears in Janet’s eyes—something that had scared the hell out of all of them, frankly—and what he’d do if he’d seen some guy being a foul-mouthed ass to Marcie. Well, fuck.
“Yeah. You’re right.” He saw the brief flash of surprise in Max’s eyes, then it was back to that ice calm, I-can-break-your-neck-with-my-mind look. Ben might have grinned at the thought, except the man code required that he keep his hackles up the requisite amount of time. “Can you get your ass away from the door? Don’t worry. I won’t ask you to open it for me.”
“That would be smart.”
Unlike Ben, Max wasn’t posturing. He was obviously still pissed.
Ah hell and Jesus. Therapy is making me such a pussy. Ben sighed. “If you ever tell her this, I’ll kill you, but there’s something about her… Sometimes it’s like she’s a mom, the kind I can snap at, but she’ll love me anyway, even as she’ll bust my balls for mouthing off, and I’m looking for the ball-busting, you know? But mom or not, she deserves way more respect than that. I’ve heard you. Okay?’
Max considered that, nodded. “I don’t think of her as a mom at all.”
“Relieved to hear it. Else I’d park you on the shrink’s couch with me and tell you to stay the hell away from her.”
This time Max answered with a tentative curving of lips, but Ben saw the conflict in his eyes. He stepped closer, put a hand on Max’s broad shoulder. Jesus, the guy was built like a fucking tank. They should put bets on him and Peter mud wrestling one night. Though it would be way more fun to see Marcie and Dana go at it. In thongs. He’d rather not entertain that visual of Peter and Max, though Marcie and Dana would probably love it. Even if Dana only got the visuals through Marcie’s description.
