by M. S. Parker
“He isn’t talking to her a lot,” I confessed to Fawna. “He talks to Cecily several times a week, emails her. I think Jacqueline has called him two or three times, but he never talks to her long. This has driven a wedge between them.”
“She probably feels guilty,” Fawna said. “Jacqueline's not a woman who handles guilt well. I imagine she’s tried a hundred ways to shift that guilt to somebody else, but in the end…well, she’s not a fool. She knows Cecily, knows what the woman has done, and all because of the child she thought she lost. It must be a terrible burden.”
“Don’t make me feel sorry for that woman,” I muttered. Closing my eyes, I leaned forward and pressed my forehead to the window.
“You don’t have to like her to feel sympathy.” Fawna chuckled. “I imagine you already feel some, or you would have brushed my question aside.” She was silent for a moment and when she spoke again, her voice was softer. “I think I’ll call her. Losing my daughter…well, it’s made me look at life a lot differently. Maybe this was the wake-up call Jacqueline needed to shift her priorities around.”
I made a face, but didn’t say anything. It would take a hell of a lot to make Jacqueline wake up, but if Fawna wanted to try, who was I to stop her? Maybe she'd have a better shot than the mixed-race girl from small-town Iowa. Jacqueline tolerated me, that was about it.
Fawna changed the subject. “I’ve seen you and Dominic in the paper several times.”
That was enough to make me smile. “He keeps dragging me out on dates.”
“And you look so put-upon when I see pictures of you.” Fawna sounded dryly amused. “And Dominic, you can tell he’s not having any fun at all, the poor man.”
I snorted, because I’d seen a few of the pictures myself and in almost every one, Dominic had been looking at me, smiling. The look on my own face had been nothing short of smitten.
When Fawna and I ended the call nearly twenty minutes later, my headache was gone, but my belly was rumbling. Wandering into the kitchen, I opened the refrigerator and pondered the idea of making us dinner instead of heating up one of the entrees Frisco had put together for us over the weekend.
Before I had a chance to decide, there was a call.
“Miss Aleena, it’s Stuart.”
I smiled. Stuart was one of the doormen downstairs, and one of the nicest guys I knew. “How are you doing today, Stuart? How’s the baby?”
“Getting bigger every day, Miss Aleena. Listen, there’s a guest here to see Mr. Snow. I—”
“Would you please just send me up already?”
The woman's voice was impatient, annoyed. Definitely someone used to getting what she wanted, and I had no doubt a woman coming to Dominic's penthouse wanted only one thing.
Too bad there was no way in hell she was going to get it.
I used my best sugar-sweet voice. “It’s okay, Stuart. You can send her up. I’ll handle this.”
“Ah…” There was a world of nerves and reluctance in that one sound.
I smiled. “Trust me, Stuart. I can handle this.”
“All right, Miss Aleena.” He still sounded unsure. “Let me know if you need anything.”
“I'll do that.”
I answered the door wearing the exact same clothes I’d put on that morning, a pair of skinny jeans and a loose-fitting shirt that draped off one shoulder. The clothes were casual and comfortable, and in no way did I look like a million bucks. That was fine. Over the last few weeks, I’d become more comfortable in my own skin, more confident. Most of the people Dominic knew were decent enough, if not somewhat shallow. The ones who looked down their noses at me…well, they were the ones with the problem, and even if I'd been wearing one-of-a-kind designer dresses and million dollar jewelry, they'd look at me the same way.
Again, that was their problem.
With a pleasant smile on my face, I opened the door and leaned against the doorway, looking up into the eyes of the brunette standing there with an expectant look on her face. She crowded in closer, clearly expecting me to let her in. I didn't budge.
“Can I help you?” I asked, my tone polite.
“I’m here to see Dominic.” She looked a little less certain when I didn’t back away and, after a moment, she took a step back.
Her nose wrinkled and she took a moment to look me up and down before pursing her lips. She’d slicked her pretty mouth with a dark shade of red and the effect was rather striking against her fair skin. Light brown hair was pull up into a high pony tail, revealing her bare neck.
I remembered her, and I'd seen a hell of a lot more of her body than I'd ever wanted to.
Even if I didn't remember her, I wouldn't have had to guess why she was here. The snug fitting black leather dress made her intentions pretty clear. There was a front and back panel to the skimpy piece and the panels were held together by little leather straps that crisscrossed up and down her sides, leaving a lot of bare skin.
I thought about the moments I’d hidden in the shadows, watching as Dominic touched her, as he came inside her. Something twisted inside me and I pushed the memories away. That was the past.
“Is there something you need?” I asked when she didn’t answer me.
“Yes.” She smiled slowly.
I was pretty sure she'd just decided that I was the help.
“My name's Maya, and I know Dominic. From the Hamptons. I'm in the city for the day and stopped by to...see him.”
“Well, I’m afraid you’re out of luck, Maya.” I returned her smile even though it was a bit harder now.
“He isn’t in?”
“Well, there is that.” I shrugged lazily and continued to smile at her as something lit in her eyes. Speculation.
Then her gaze narrowed and she moved back toward me, closing the distance. She wore a pair of spiked stilettos which put her well above my own five feet, five inches. Now she tried to use that height to intimidate me. What she didn't know was that better and scarier people than she had tried and failed.
“Listen, darling,” Maya said. “I’m a special friend of Dominic’s. Now if he isn’t in, just say so. But if he is, I suggest you step out of my way.”
“Listen, darling,” I said, mocking her tone. “Dominic doesn’t have special friends anymore. He’s taken. Very much taken.”
Her mouth fell open. As she stood there gaping at me, I pressed the button located on the speaker just inside the door. Stuart’s voice came on. “Yes, Miss Aleena?”
“Maya will be leaving now if you want to send up the elevator. If she comes by again, she’s not to be allowed up.”
“You little—”
The elevator doors slid open and Maya spun around.
Both of us watched as Dominic stepped out.
The story continues in the 350 pages stand-alone novel, Craving HIM. Click Here to download now.
The Client
Short & Steamy
M. S. Parker
Chapter One
Sara
Central Park at five o'clock in the morning was my favorite time and place. New York was known as the city that never slept, but when running in the park so early, it was easy to pretend that I was the only one for miles.
I wasn't a native New Yorker, but I'd loved the city from the moment I moved here. It'd been six years now, and I'd never once considered going back to San Francisco. I'd only gone back to visit my uncle twice, but he never made me feel guilty. Uncle Takeshi was great that way. I missed him, but my life was here.
Skirting some rocks as I rounded a corner, I let my mind drift again. I'd run this particular circuit at least twice a week for the last three years, three times when the weather was good. I knew it by heart. It’s one of the things I always loved about running. As my feet found their rhythm, I didn't have to think about things.
I'd always been one of those people who'd thought too much, analyzed everything, even when I was young. After my parents died, it got worse. I was only eight when it happened. Sometimes I wasn't even sure I reall
y remembered them, or if what I thought were memories were actually a combination of pictures and stories. Uncle Takeshi had done his best to help me cope, and in the end, the only thing that worked was physical activity. I'd never played well with others, so instead of enrolling me in organized sports, he taught me martial arts. I'd joined track in junior high and found that running helped too.
It also directed me to the field of sports management. I graduated with my Masters from Columbia last year but hadn't been able to find a job in my field. While in college, I worked part-time as a yoga instructor. Now, I had an additional job that wasn't even close to what I wanted to do with my life.
I would've sighed if I hadn't been running. I didn't want to think about work, not when I had to be there in less than an hour. I just wanted to concentrate on the process of running, the simple physical exertion of it. Nothing complicated or emotional. Nothing that required decisions or contemplation.
I managed to fall into that rhythm, into that place where nothing else existed but me and the path in front of me, the shoes on my feet. It was a beautiful morning in the middle of May, and I wanted to enjoy it. One of the things that losing my parents at such a young age taught me was to make the most of every moment.
Then, just as I rounded the next bend, the one that took me almost back to the beginning, I caught movement out of the corner of my eye. A tall, older man was in the grass doing what appeared to be tai chi, or something similar. Even as my brain was processing his movements, the man collapsed.
I didn't think twice as I veered off the path and headed straight for the man. As I went to my knees next to him, I pulled my phone out of my pocket and quickly dialed 911. I put it on speaker as I checked the man's vitals.
“This is 911, do you have an emergency?” A woman's voice came through just as I was trying to find a pulse.
“Yes,” I said. I was out of breath, but calm. “I'm in Central Park and there's a man who just collapsed. He has no pulse and isn't breathing.” Before she could ask, I continued, “I'm starting CPR.”
“Where in the park are you located?” she asked.
I looked around as I began chest compressions, trying to find some sort of description to give the ambulance a reference point. I felt the cartilage beneath my palms crack as I shouted my relative location. The emergency operator was still talking, but I'd more or less tuned her out as the muscles in my arms started to burn. I knew what I was doing and I didn't need her to keep me calm. I wasn't exactly trained for this, but I didn't panic easily.
I lost track of time, aware only of the little physical things that told me minutes were ticking by. My shirt sticking to me, soaked with sweat. Losing all feeling in my arms but still forcing myself to continue chest compressions. The wind whipping my ponytail around to sting my cheeks.
And then I finally heard it. Ambulance sirens. When I raised my head to see how close they were, I saw that a small crowd had gathered. It was nice of them to have offered to help me.
Uncle Takeshi had also taught me the fine art of sarcasm, though that might have been unintentional.
“You're the one who found him?” A paramedic knelt on the other side of the body and held up his hands.
I sat back, heaving a sigh of relief as the paramedic took over compressions. I shook my arms, wincing as the blood flowed back into my fingers. Another paramedic approached and I pushed myself up to my feet. My knees popped and my legs almost buckled. I'd been so focused on how badly my arms were affected that I hadn't even felt the pain in my knees, or the way my feet had almost fallen asleep.
“Miss?”
I turned to see a police officer walking toward me. He glanced at the unconscious man who was now being transferred over to a gurney.
“Can I have a word with you?” he asked. I nodded and we stepped off to the side. “Your name, miss?”
“Sara Carr,” I said. I ran my hand over my hair, suddenly overly aware of how sweaty and gross I must've been. I wasn't normally a self-conscious person, but this definitely wasn't a normal situation.
“Can you tell me what happened, Miss Carr?” the officer asked as he flipped open a notebook.
I nodded and told him everything, step by step. Then answered his questions as he asked them, even though I'd already explained everything. I didn't know why he bothered since it was pretty clear the guy had suffered a heart attack, but I wasn't about to tell the cops how to do their job. For all I knew, this was part of some on-going investigation.
By the time he was finally finished, however, I was starting to wish that I'd tried to hurry him along. I was going to be late for work, and that was even if I didn't go home and shower first. I was halfway to the bus stop when I realized I'd left my phone back in the park.
“Dammit,” I muttered as I turned on my heel and started running. It was probably a long-shot that it was still there, but I had to take it. I didn't have the money to buy a new one.
Surprisingly, I found it right where I'd left it. Unfortunately, the battery was dead after my lengthy call to 911, which meant I couldn't call work to tell them I’d be even later than I'd originally anticipated.
I swore again as I climbed onto the bus. I ignored the looks I was getting from the other passengers and focused instead on my immediate plans. Going straight to work was my best bet. I could shower at the health club where I worked as a trainer, and I always kept a spare change of clothes. I could explain things, then, face-to-face.
Except it didn't work out that way.
The prestigious health club where I worked in Manhattan was known, not only for its discretion but also for the quality and appearance of its employees. And based on the looks thrown my way when I walked in, I knew I was in serious trouble.
“Sara, can I see you for a moment?” The manager, Chad, looked grim as he hurried me out of the room and into his office.
“I'm so sorry,” I said. “I was on my run this morning and–”
“You're nearly ninety minutes late, Sara,” Chad interrupted. When I opened my mouth to explain further, he didn't give me the chance. “And then you show up here looking like...that.”
I fought back a scowl. He was seriously going to go there? Not exactly surprising, but disappointing nonetheless.
“A man had a heart attack in the park,” I said. “I ended up doing CPR, then had to stay and give my account to the police.”
Chad crossed his arms and raised his eyebrow. “That's your excuse? I think it's safe to say that you have a problem with your priorities.”
Priorities? My hands curled into fists. Was he fucking kidding me? I saved a man's life, and my manager was going to lecture me about my priorities?
“I think we've known for a while that things weren't going to work out here,” Chad continued.
“You mean since I told you to keep your hands off my ass?” I snapped back as my temper got the best of me.
Chad's face hardened. “That's enough. You're fired. Get your things from your locker and get out. I don't want to see you in here again.”
I was too pissed off to argue, or even to threaten to go higher up with sexual harassment accusations. My day had been insane, and I hadn’t even had breakfast yet. I'd had enough. I stormed out of the office, slamming the door behind me. Chad was still hiding when I emerged from the employee locker room, not that I expected to see him. He was a coward and everyone knew it.
I stepped outside and headed toward the subway. The bus wouldn't be back for another twenty minutes, but there was a subway station three blocks away. I didn't mind the extra walk. It'd burn off some of my excess energy before I got home, and maybe then I'd be calm enough to talk to Gordon about what to do next.
My fiancé, Gordon Cleaver, was also a trainer at the same health club, and he knew about Chad's previous flirtations. I hadn't wanted him to get in trouble for sticking up for me before, so I'd asked him not to say anything. If anyone was going to put their neck on the line, it'd be me. I refused to be one of those women who had men fightin
g her battles. I knew there were occasions when everyone needed help from someone else, but this wasn't it.
What I did need, however, was someone to talk things over with, figure out what my options were, and help me decide what the best choice would be. I needed a job, so I wasn't sure if taking action against the club for wrongful termination was smart. It would probably result in a few awkward conversations with potential future employers, and, ultimately, it was my word against his. The way I saw it, the only benefit to threatening a lawsuit was to get my job back. But I wasn't sure that was the best idea either. Chad was the sort of guy who held grudges, which meant working under him again would be a nightmare.
With all the thoughts and possibilities swirling in my mind, I was pretty much moving on autopilot. Up three flights of stairs even though the elevator was working. I'd gone into the apartment and was half-way across the living room before I realized that something was off.
Gordon wasn't sitting on the couch, watching the news like he usually did on his days off. But his shirt was on the floor.
And so were a pair of heels I didn't recognize.
My stomach clenched painfully. They could've belonged to his sister. Meghan sometimes came by to see Gordon, and she wore heels like that.
Except neither of them were in the main living space, and I couldn't figure out why they would've needed to be anywhere else.
Part of my brain screamed at me to leave. To go somewhere else for a little while, then come back later and pretend I'd never been here or seen what I’d seen. I could play ignorant, pretend that what my gut – and common sense – were telling me was wrong.
But I'd never been one to walk away from a confrontation, and if Gordon was doing what I knew he was doing, no way in hell would I stick my head in the sand and take it.
