“I think about you all the time,” she mumbled, almost unaware of the water splashing around her expensive leather boots. “Even when I don’t want to think about you, I’m thinking about you, and the way you look at me, oh, Henry, you turn me into mush. This is so unfair. Why do you have to be so straitlaced? Was what I arranged for us at lunch today so terrible? And I help people with the money I make. I told you that, I help people.”
Noticing worried faces as they hurried by her, she realized she was talking out loud, and pausing her step, she looked around to get her bearings. She’d been so lost in her thoughts she’d passed the block she should have turned down.
“Darn it,” she grumbled. Irritated at her lack of attention, she started back.
Bernie had a laundry list of clichés. Everything in life is determined by…, the most important thing if life is…, success depends upon…, etc., and as she approached the end of the block, one such saying began to clang loudly in her head.
Timing in life is everything.
Had she not been thinking about Henry, she would have rounded the block when she should have, and had she not realized where she was when she did, the circumstances in which she suddenly found herself would be different. Timing in life is everything. Never was that truer than at that moment. Amanda, Sylvia, and Susan were walking directly toward her.
For a fleeting few seconds, Jane thought she must be imagining things. The tiresome trio never walked anywhere, let alone in the rain, and the LaSalle boutique was a good ten minutes away. What the hell were they doing there?
There was perilously little time to make a decision; turn around and get the heck out of there, or seize the moment. In seconds she would be separated from the girls by only a few feet. Another of Bernie’s sayings sprang to mind. There are very few coincidences. In a flash she decided their unexpected appearance was a blessing, and raising her head she strode forward. With her heart pounding against her chest, she stared straight at them as they walked by. Though they were deep in conversation, each of them glanced her way.
There was not even a glimmer of recognition.
A wave of relief washed over her, and ducking into the first coffee shop she passed, she dropped into a chair to catch her breath. It had been a positive omen, she was sure of it. The scam would move forward as planned. She sat for a few minutes and people-watched, then headed outside and found the rain had lessened to a drizzle. Managing to hail a taxi, she settled back and relaxed as the driver struggled through the heavy London traffic. By the time he dropped her off she was ready to focus on the job, and after walking in the front door, she moved swiftly to her bedroom. It was time to change into her comfortable clothes and get to work.
A short time later she entered the hidden room behind the closet, turned on the monitors, and sat down at the secretary. Pulling open one of the larger drawers, she withdrew the fraudulent stock certificates. Among his many talents, Bernie had been a master forger, and as she stared at the papers, she was once again in awe of his skill. She would offer the girls one hundred shares each at twenty pounds a share. She knew they’d do their research on the Internet, it was the only resource available to them, and the phony website was already in place. All she had to do was update it from the last time Bernie had run the scam.
She smiled as she recalled how she’d grumbled and complained when he’d insisted she attend IT classes and learn website design. The course hadn’t been difficult, she’d taken to it easily, but it had been tedious, and she had complained every night when she returned home.
“You’ll be glad of it one day,” he’d said firmly. “You have to trust me about this.”
He’d been right. The education had been invaluable.
Placing the certificates in three separate manila envelopes, she set them aside, then retrieved her laptop. Powering it up, she went into the back side of the site and perused the content. The first thing she had to do was insert a photograph of a man she would point to as her father. Finding the suitable candidate would only take a few minutes. There were online stock photograph sites that offered a huge selection. She lost herself in the work, even creating what looked like a legitimate newspaper page, not only incorporating it into the site, but using sophisticated SEO techniques so if the girls typed in the name of the supposed goldmine, they’d find it quickly. She was consumed for the remainder of the afternoon, and as she rose from the desk and stretched out her shoulders, she found herself craving a cup of tea.
Ambling into the kitchen, as she set the jug to boil and spooned tea leaves into the teapot, her thoughts returned to the conversation she’d had with Henry after their lunch, and out of nowhere she was hit with a feeling she rarely experienced. Guilt. She’d known the fabricated taste testing wouldn’t sit right with him, and though she’d denied it, she’d also known that he would have been in trouble right along with her if her ruse had been uncovered, but she’d done something much worse. The truth was she had used him. She’d pulled the scam to give her confidence a boost.
“Ooh, what have I done?” she cringed. “That was bad, that was so bad.”
Reaching for her phone, she touched his name on the screen, and taking a deep breath, she waited for him to answer. When he did she felt her heart skip; she needed to make things right. She desperately needed to make things right.
“Hello, Henry. Are you still at work? Can you talk for a minute?”
“I just got home, and sure, I can talk. What’s on your mind? You sound upset.”
“I’m calling to apologize about today. Everything you said in the arcade, you were right.”
“I see.”
“I knew what I was doing was wrong, and I went ahead anyway. I’m sorry, I really am. I hope you’ll forgive me, and I promise I’ll never do anything like that with you again. Not ever, you have my word.”
“Thank you, Jane, and of course I forgive you.”
“But I haven’t told you everything,” she said, her voice almost a whisper.
“There’s more?”
“The thing is…”
“I’m listening.”
“It’s hard.”
“Confession usually is, but you’ll feel better for it,” he said gently. “I promise I won’t arrive at your door wielding a cane.”
“You might change your mind when I tell you.”
“I might change my mind if you don’t,” he retorted. “Just take a deep breath and spit it out.”
“Okay, here goes. I ran the scam because I was feeling insecure, and I needed to do something to, uh, make myself feel better.”
“So what you’re saying is you used me.”
“But I also knew we’d have a fabulous lunch!” she hastily added.
“Not much of a mitigating circumstance,” he muttered, thinking maybe he would arrive at her door with his cane in hand after all. “What do you think we should do about this?”
“What do I think we should do about this?” she repeated, his unexpected response catching her off guard.
“That was the question.”
“Um… I suppose you want to punish me.”
“Don’t you think it’s appropriate? Would you prefer it if I just said oh well, never mind?”
“When you put it like that…” she sighed, her voice trailing off.
“Tell me, Jane, if you were in my shoes, what would you do?”
“I’d probably never speak to me again.”
“But I want to speak to you again, I want to spend time with you, I want to learn more about you, so that’s not an option. We both know what’s needed here. You’ve told me all this because your conscience is bothering you, so, I’ll ask you again, what would you do if you were in my shoes?”
“I can’t believe I’m going to say this,” she mumbled, “you’re right. Punishment is, uh, what you said… appropriate, and it’s true that I feel guilty. That’s not something that happens very often, but I also feel like I need a really big hug from you right now.”
“O
f course you do, and you’ll get one when I see you, both before and after your discipline.”
The immediate burst of a thousand fluttering butterflies made Jane catch her breath, and she gripped the phone, wishing her heart would stop racing.
“Why don’t you plan on staying over here tomorrow night?” he continued. “We’ll have dinner and talk, and we’ll get this unfortunate incident behind us.”
“Thank you, Henry. I would like that very much.”
“Please try to behave until then,” he said warmly.
“Don’t worry. I have some things I have to finish up tomorrow. I’ll be in the house all day.”
“Wear a dress for me, and expect a car around six-thirty. Get some sleep tonight.”
“I will. Thanks, Henry. Bye.”
“Goodbye, Jane.”
The thought of seeing him again and being engulfed in his arms was filling her with joy, even if it did mean she’d have a hot, stinging bottom. Pouring the boiled water into the teapot, a smile crossed her lips. She’d have some wine with dinner, watch some television, and have an early night. After the long, eventful day, she needed it.
“I can’t wait to see you, Henry Gibson,” she muttered as she added the milk and sugar to her teacup, “and I think, once this job is over, I’ll take a break for a while.”
* * *
In his house, Henry was lounging in his bathrobe and drinking an excellent glass of cabernet. He’d visited the gym after work and exercised like a maniac, waiting to take a long hot shower until he returned home. He’d not expected the apologetic call from Jane, and he’d certainly not expected such a heartfelt confession. He was pleased, both because she’d sounded sincerely contrite, and because she wanted to be punished for what she’d done. The girl had a conscience. Did that mean she was fixable?
Flopping down on the couch, he sipped his wine and considered her discipline. There were many options open to him, but it was early days in their relationship, and he decided a simple, but stinging spanking would suffice.
“Perhaps a visit with my hairbrush,” he murmured. “I’m sure that would leave a suitable impression.”
But chastising her for what she’d done wasn’t going to change her continuing criminal enterprise, and just how much illegal activity was in her life? She’d said she did most of her work outside of London. Would she disappear for days, possibly weeks, at a time? She had insisted that she was extremely cautious, but she hadn’t been cautious enough with him. He had caught her. Inevitably it would happen again with someone else.
“It doesn’t matter where you ply your trade,” he sighed. “At some point your world will come crashing down around you, and you’ll end up locked away. How the heck can I stop that from happening?”
Wandering into his kitchen, he pulled the remaining smoked Gouda cheese from his refrigerator, and grabbed the box of water crackers. As he settled back down and began to munch as he drank, he set his brilliant, creative, calculating brain to work.
She was street-wise and oh-so smart, and it was obvious she loved the game. She loved being wily, outfoxing her opponents, she loved the adrenalin rush, and most of all, she loved winning. Somewhere in the complex mix of who she was and what she did, there was an answer. He just had to figure out what that was, and figuring things out was what Henry did best.
Chapter Thirteen
Jane had spent the day checking and double-checking everything she’d prepared for her next meeting with the three annoying girls; as she’d worked, the prospect of seeing Henry loomed in her mind. He would undoubtedly spank her until her bottom was burning. It was a spine-tingling thought, and knowing she was distracted, she’d been extra diligent. Finally finished for the day, she rose from the desk, raised her arms above her head, stretched out her back, and was about to walk away when she glanced down at the envelopes upon which she’d written their names.
“Amanda, Susan, and Sylvia; oh, for heaven’s sake, ASS, how unbelievably perfect! They are a collective, big fat ass. Why didn’t I think of that before? Operation Ass, that’s brilliant!”
Delighted by her cleverness, she left the hidden room, giggling as she made her way into the bathroom and stripping off her clothes as she walked. Stepping into the shower, she turned on the taps and let the steamy water wash away her day. She felt great. Everything was set. The website looked fabulous, the stock certificates and gold nuggets were ready to be presented, and she had a list of the flights arriving at Heathrow from Sydney. In a couple of days she’d call Sylvia and tell her she was flying home, and ask if one of them could pick her up at the airport.
Being collected at Heathrow would be a validation of her story that no amount of talking could match, and she was fairly certain all three of them would arrive in a limousine, excited to hear all her news. She would be in the international terminal, suitcase in hand, ready and waiting. The Qantas boarding pass had been easy to replicate, though not sure it would pass close inspection, she would make sure they would see only a fleeting glance. She’d tell them the airline food was ghastly, and insist on stopping at a restaurant. She’d get them all excited about the possibility of buying the shares, then after the meal she’d taxi it home.
“This is going to be such a breeze,” she muttered, stepping from the shower and drying off. “I can’t wait for it to be over. It will be so nice not having to deal with those bubble-headed dolls anymore.”
She had plenty of time to get ready, and at six-thirty sharp, when there was a knock on her door announcing the cab’s arrival, she took an excited breath. Soon she would be back in Henry’s arms. Over his knee too, of course, but in a strange way, she was looking forward to that as well.
“I must be losing my mind,” she mumbled, shaking her head. “Who wants to get their butt smacked?”
Doing a last-minute check to make sure everything was secure, she hurried outside, and as she locked her front door, she was surprised at how cold it was. She paused for a moment and stared up at the sky. It was slate grey, and the air touching her face carried an icy chill. She’d had such a busy day she’d not thought about the weather. Climbing into the taxi, she settled into the back seat, grateful for the warmth.
“It’s freezing,” she remarked as the car started on its way. “Do you think we’ll see any snow?”
“That’s what I heard on last weather report,” the driver replied. “Should be falling in an hour or so.”
“Will it be just a dusting? Did they say?”
“A bit more than a dusting by the looks of that sky,” he said solemnly.
“Snowing outside, and curled up with Henry in front of the fire. How magical is that going to be?” she murmured with a happy sigh.
Closing her eyes, she imagined the scene. Both of them naked, her bottom hot from his hand, his fingers roaming over her body, his mouth crushing hers; it was a divine thought. The car slowed, breaking into her daydream, and as she opened her eyes, she discovered the traffic was snarled. No surprise, but it didn’t help her racing heart or calm the butterflies in her stomach. When the car finally pulled up outside Henry’s house, she was almost breathless with anticipation.
“Mr. Gibson has taken care of me, thanks though,” the driver said as she offered him a tip. “Tread carefully, the footpath will be slippery.”
Climbing from the car, her overnight bag in one hand, her Prada purse in the other, she walked up to the front door and was about to ring the bell when it magically opened.
“Hello, young lady, give me that,” he said, taking her overnight bag from her hand. “Take off your coat and come on upstairs. We’ll start tonight off right. You need a hug and a glass of wine.”
Jane wanted to respond. She wanted to say hello back and tell him how pleased she was to see him, but she suddenly found herself tongue-tied. He was dressed in a V-neck, caramel-colored cashmere sweater. Tiny chest hairs were attempting to escape, and it did nothing to hide his muscled arms. His dark hair was still wet from the shower and accentuated the gorgeous gre
en of his eyes. He could have been a model on the cover of GQ, and as he started up the stairs, she noticed how wonderfully well he filled out his blue jeans. Henry Gibson was one fit physicist.
“You’re quiet tonight,” he remarked, placing her bag next to the sofa and moving toward her with his arms open. “Are you feeling all right?”
“Yes, yes, very all right,” she replied, still thinking about how handsome he was. “You’re so thoughtful, Henry. Thank you for sending the car.”
“My pleasure,” he purred, holding her tightly. “I’m glad you’re here.”
Sinking against him, she sighed heavily as she leaned her head against the warm softness of his jumper, and as his arms came around her, she closed her eyes and breathed in the soft, subtle spiciness of his cologne.
“Such a bad girl,” he murmured.
“I’m sorry. I’m not just saying that, I truly am.”
“I believe you,” he said tenderly, “but you know I have to spank you properly.”
“Uh-huh.”
“I won’t tolerate this nonsense. You have to keep me out of your shady dealings.”
“Yes, understood.”
“We’ll have a nice dinner, then—”
“Can’t you, uh, do whatever it is you’re going to do first?” she asked, pulling back and gazing up at him.
“You want me to spank you now?”
“I’d rather get it over with.”
“You won’t be very comfortable at the dinner table.”
“I don’t care. I can’t stand the suspense.”
“Very well, since you’re obviously remorseful I won’t make you suffer by making you wait. Go into the bedroom, take off your knickers, and stand by the side of the bed.”
“I feel all quivery.”
“Of course you do, that’s only natural. Go on, now, I’ll be in shortly.”
As he watched her walk away, a wave of emotion swept through his heart. He adored her. He absolutely adored her. Staring up at him with her woeful, sorry expression, she had seemed almost innocent, but in her forest-green jersey wool dress, she looked like a beguiling vixen. It clung to her body like a second skin, and the moment he’d laid eyes on her, he’d wanted to rip it off her body and totally devour her.
Reforming Jane Page 10