Michaels, Skye - Calleigh's Collar [Le Club 1] (Siren Publishing Classic)
Page 1
Le Club 1
Calleigh’s Collar
When Calleigh Roundtree, a young architect, is asked to design a renovation of an old Victorian mansion located in the historic district of Ocala, Florida, she works with local attorney Jason Steele on the plans. Sparks fly. Calleigh has no idea that it is to be a very private, luxurious BDSM club with only ten members. All of the renovation team sign confidentiality agreements.
Unbeknownst to Calleigh, she is overheard speaking about the project to a friend, thus breaching the confidentiality agreement, which puts her into the hands of Jason, one of the members of the club, for a weekend as his sub. When the members of the club find out she has breached the agreement, she is to be publicly punished at the club or face legal action for the breach of agreement. Calleigh has to trust Jason to handle the punishment and protect her.
Genre: BDSM, Contemporary
Length: 22,118 words
CALLEIGH’S COLLAR
Le Club 1
Skye Michaels
EROTIC ROMANCE
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
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A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK
IMPRINT: Erotic Romance
CALLEIGH’S COLLAR
Copyright © 2012 by Skye Michaels
E-book ISBN: 1-61926-257-6
First E-book Publication: January 2012
Cover design by Jinger Heaston
All cover art and logo copyright © 2012 by Siren Publishing, Inc.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.
All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.
PUBLISHER
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
Letter to Readers
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DEDICATION
To all those with an adventurous heart.
Life happens. Enjoy the journey.
With special thanks to Patricia Walker for her help in getting this book out the door!
CALLEIGH’S COLLAR
Le Club 1
SKYE MICHAELS
Copyright © 2012
Prologue
Calleigh Rose Roundtree was bent over, pointing to a line of electrical outlets on the mass of blueprints entitled “Electrical Plans and Specifications / Laurel Oak Estate” spread out over the large mahogany conference table as she looked over her shoulder at Jason Steele. He really did not seem to be paying attention and had a pained look on his extremely rugged and handsome face.
“Are you okay, Jason?” she asked. “Maybe that burrito you had for lunch didn’t agree with you?”
“No, I’m fine,” he replied. “Well, I’m thinking that if we move these outlets…” She laughed nervously. He had a really strained expression on his face. “Maybe we should table electrical for now and make a decision on that next week.”
“No, we need to get these electrical plans finalized and move on to mechanical. We are creeping up on the commencement date and I want everything ready to start on time,” he replied.
Calleigh and Jason had been working on the architectural plans and specs for the renovation of a dilapidated, three-story Victorian mansion set on a three-acre tract of land that was overgrown and run-down. The property had great potential, with enormous, hundred-year-old laurel oak and live oak trees dripping with Spanish moss, a tranquil pond, and enough room to plant formal English gardens. Calleigh, as architect, had designed a historically accurate facade, two additions, pool cabanas, and outbuildings for the project that was, as far as she could tell, going to be a men’s club of some kind. Or a really luxurious brothel. She giggled to herself. In Ocala? No way! She had not been given many facts as to the intended use of the property, and that was making the project harder to complete. How do you give the client what he wants when you don’t know what he wants? It had been made clear to the entire renovation team, all the members of which had signed confidentiality agreements, that details of the final project would not be forthcoming.
“Okay, moving on then…” she continued. It is really hard to concentrate with that gorgeous hunk hovering over my shoulder and brushing up against my bottom. Little zings of awareness rippled up her spine. Eight months of the forced intimacy resulting from weekly planning meetings, late night meetings, and weekend meetings were beginning to tell on her. Why doesn’t he just ask me out? Maybe he’s involved with someone. Maybe he’s gay. Maybe he doesn’t like ladies with big booties…
* * * *
“Despite these last-minute details, I think we’re closing in on the completion of this project, Calleigh,” he said. “It’s been a long haul and a lot of late nights. I know how much effort you’ve put into this project, and I appreciate it.” Looking at that really spectacular ass bent over the table when all I have wanted to do for eight long months is get my hands on it is killing me. He tried to keep it professional as his hands itched to pat her cute round butt. He would have liked to put the moves on her, but he thought it was only fair to wait until their professional relationship was concluded. It had been a really long eight months.
Chapter One
Calleigh bent over, huffing and stretching her hamstrings, and called out, “Paula…I need a minute.” Tall with wavy, blonde-streaked, dark-honey hair, Calleigh was more curvy than athletic.
“Jeeez. What a wuss. We haven’t done two miles yet,” Paula replied. At barely
five two with a cap of glossy, dark curls and a compact figure, Paula was the athlete of the duo.
“I know, I know. I have been spending too much time sitting in the office lately,” Calleigh said. They were jogging in place in front of the tall, wooden, electronic gates of the walled, heavily wooded Laurel Oak Estate at the end of Fort King Street in Ocala’s historic district. The only identifying signage in front of the Estate was the street number. The ten-foot stone wall which completely surrounded the property was topped with surveillance cameras.
“You worked on this project, didn’t you?” Paula asked with an impish grin. Somehow she always managed to bring them past the Estate on their runs.
“And you know I can’t say a word about it…confidentiality agreement, remember? I, as project architect, as well as the general contractor, all subcontractors, and suppliers, had to sign very strict confidentiality agreements to work on this project. And as you know, it made my entire year! My fees were triple what I would normally charge.”
“Oh come on, Calleigh, give me some details! Everyone in the neighborhood wonders what goes on in there.”
“Bullshit, my best friend! Ever heard of ‘undisclosed penalty provisions’? If I say one word about that place, I will be in deep trouble. I don’t even know how deep, since the agreement states the penalty provisions are at the sole discretion of the Party of the First Part, whoever or whatever that might be,” Calleigh replied.
That provision of the confidentiality agreement had made her uncomfortable at the time, but the deal was so good, and having used up all her ‘reasonables,’ she had let the penalty provisions slide during contract negotiations. As Jason had said at the time, “It’s only a problem if you don’t intend to abide by the agreement. It should not be an issue.”
As they kept pace in front of the estate, a long, black Lincoln limousine with blacked-out widows pulled up to the gates. The driver’s window rolled down, and the driver entered all but the last number of a security code on the keypad. “Ladies, can I help you?” he asked with a frown as he hesitated to enter the last number.
“Uh, no problem,” Paula chirped as they jogged off, and the gates slowly opened. “Rats! Almost got a look inside.”
Chapter Two
Calleigh, a Southern girl from an old Jacksonville family, was a graduate of the University of Florida. After doing her apprenticeship with a Gainesville architectural firm, she opened her own firm in Ocala because she loved the small-town feel, the warm, friendly atmosphere, the intense greenness, the wide-open spaces, and the beautiful horse farms of central Florida. Also, as a U of F graduate, she had numerous friends from school in the area, not least of whom was her best friend and college roommate, Paula. Although they had been best friends and roommates for years, their personalities could not have been more different. Calleigh was bright and driven with respect to her career, but she had a gentle sweetness to her nature. Paula, on the other hand, was quirky, stubborn, and determined to succeed at almost any cost.
“I don’t know if we jogged far enough to work off this double latte blah blah blah grande whatever, but I do not care,” Calleigh stated as they collapsed in comfy, overstuffed chairs in the downtown Starbucks. The popular coffee café on the town square was crowded with Saturday-morning regulars.
“I am really disappointed that I didn’t get a look inside that place. Limos coming and going at all hours, strange screams…” Paula shuddered, as if a delicious frisson of fear ran down her still-perspiring spine.
“Oh for Heaven’s sake, Paula, those are peacocks, not babies being murdered! They do make an ungodly racket, though. That’s how ridiculous rumors get started.”
“They wouldn’t be rumors if you just told me…”
“No! Read my lips!”
“Oh come on. Tell me just one little thing,” Paula wheedled. An inveterate gossip and the editor of the local Ocala Country Life magazine, Paula Greenley was in the know about all the local hotshots, hot spots, and all the local goings-on. It was the supreme annoyance not to have the scoop on the Laurel Oak Estate. “How about some info on that gorgeous hunk, Jason Steele? You worked with him on the design plans, right?”
“You never give up. You are as much of a nudge now as you were when we were at U of F. Yes, Jason starred in many a fantasy over the eight months or so we were working on the plans and specs. Wow, what a hunk. I did everything but stand on my head to get him to ask me out, but no go. Hey! Standing on my head may have worked! Shoulda tried it! But really, he may have been involved with someone, because I was definitely getting the ‘zing.’ I don’t know what the problem was, but I tried my best. I guess you could say I really had a major ‘crush’ on him.”
“Come on! Just tell me one thing.”
“Okay. One thing.” Calleigh smirked. “Buy low, sell high.”
“Very funny, missy! Now give,” Paula said with a grin. She looked even more determined to get the scoop.
Calleigh knew that Paula would never give up. She was like a dog with a bone! A small, determined dog with a very big bone. Maybe if I give her just a little information she’ll let up. Besides, that’s all I have, just a little information. She and Paula had lived together long enough for Calleigh to know the futility of continued resistance.
“Oh, all right! Jeez! The project was a renovation of an enormous, three-story Victorian house into what I guess is a men’s club or something. I drew the plans, but I never saw the furnishings and fixtures or the finished project. There are five large bedroom suites, a library, a commercial kitchen, offices, and a lot of other rooms, a pool and cabana area, and a separate building they called a playroom. I’d love to see the finished project, but as you know, no one gets in there.”
“That’s it? That’s all you’re going to tell me?” Paula complained. If curiosity killed the cat, Paula had used up at least a couple of lives.
“That’s all I’m going to tell you. I really don’t know anything more myself.” Calleigh hoped that small amount of information would stop Paula’s constant nagging. I really have to be careful here. This is technically a breach of the confidentiality agreement, and I have a professional obligation to abide by the terms of the agreement. I’m sure Jason would not take this lightly, and I would really hate to disappoint him.
* * * *
Trent Redding sipped his coffee behind the Saturday edition of The Ocala Star and listened to the club’s architect break her confidentiality agreement. Hmmmm, very interesting! Steele is going to love this! Little Miss Architect is finally about to fall into his hands. And she’s not as immune to him as he thought. What an idiot.
Chapter Three
“That’s all I heard, Steele. No more details, just that she thinks this is a ‘men’s club.’ She was talking to Paula Greenley, the editor of Ocala Country Life, you know, the local who’s-who and see-and-be-seen glossy rag,” Trent Redding, one of the ten owners of Le Club Laurel Oak, told his partner, Jason Steele. “Oh, by the way, she thinks you’re a hunk and wondered why you never asked her out.” He chuckled. “Said she’d be willing to stand on her head…”
Le Club Laurel Oak–Ocala, although not just for men, was a very private BDSM club catering to just ten members, two of whom were currently having a drink in the library of the three-story Victorian this Saturday afternoon. Although the property was held in a limited-liability partnership, Jason Steele, an attorney, had been the front man putting the project together, and he had worked closely with Calleigh Roundtree, the project architect. Although there had been definite sparks between the two during the prolonged drafting of the plans and specs, Jason had been cautious in carrying the relationship forward, the privacy of the club being his main concern. He just was not sure if Ms. Roundtree would be into spanking and kinky sex.
“Yeah, well…I walked around with a hard-on the whole time we were working together. It’s damn difficult to concentrate on electrical wiring, outlets, and water lines when the architect has a gorgeous J.Lo ass,” he groused. “So, wh
at part of ‘confidential’ doesn’t she understand?” Steele frowned, one slashing, dark eyebrow raised over smoky gray eyes. Jason was six two, with dark hair just beginning to gray at the temples, and many women had told him they liked his one quirky dimple, his killer body, and his broad shoulders tapering into long, powerful legs. “She wants to see the finished project, does she? That can be arranged. I wonder how she would like being a submissive.”
“Just be careful, Steele. We don’t know the lady’s personal preferences,” Trent returned.
“Oh, I’ll explain her ‘position’ to her very carefully, and I won’t forget to get the release and another confidentiality agreement signed,” Steele replied with a cocky grin. “Little Miss Roundtree’s gorgeous ass is mine.” He had been waiting for an opportunity to further his relationship with Calleigh to present itself, and now that it had, he wasn’t going to waste it.
Jason Steele had grown up the son of a successful thoroughbred breeder on a farm in Ocala, gone to college at Harvard, and graduated magna cum laude. He earned a law degree from Harvard Law School, during which time he also edited the Law Review. The following years spent in Boston as an associate at a major national law firm had put a hard gloss on the Southern boy he had been. While his family had given him the best start possible and a fabulous education, he had made the most of it himself. He returned to Ocala to open his own firm. His very successful corporate- and business-law practice had given him the ability to move in the highest echelons of local society and business with the possibility of a political career in the future.