Douglas scanned back through his memory of his conversation with Mildred and couldn't remember a time when she'd voiced any kind of opinion about anything, except his accent. It was a very short conversation, because he could tell that his girl was getting upset, and he wouldn't have that if there was anything he could do about it.
And there was.
So, he'd extracted them from the conversation as soon as it was politely possible. And if he'd felt there was a need to, he wouldn't have waited until it was polite to do so, either.
He pulled into a parking lot of a busy plaza, taking a space in a vacant corner under a tree. He turned off the engine and turned himself toward her. "Come here, darling."
Without giving her much of a chance to say yea or nay, he cuddled her to him, and she began to cry on his shoulder as if her world was crashing down around her. Having learned to comfort and console his sister, he considered himself reasonably expert at doing so, which was a reasonable advantage he had over most other men. He held her firmly but lightly, so that she felt his presence but didn't feel hemmed in. He rubbed her back and whispered loving, supportive nonsense, like, "there, there," but he didn't try to get her to stop crying. In his experience, that would happen pretty naturally on its own, although never as quickly as any red blooded man would prefer.
It didn't take her long at all to wind down. Douglas handed her a handkerchief, keeping her close to him even after she'd stopped crying.
Then he asked—gently but firmly, "Tell me what she's right about, Ia."
She sighed, having hoped that he would forget about what she'd said, but he was much too attentive to her for that.
Ia put it off for as long as she thought she could get away with, then she said, brokenly and in not much more than a whisper, "She was thinking, when we left, that you should have been leaving with her, and she's right. I'm no one's idea of pretty. I've not got any money—she's already a model and she's trying to be an actress, and that'll make her famous and gorgeous and rich." She lifted her eyes to his for a moment. "You really should have left with her."
"If I wasn't such a nice guy, I'd have you over my lap right now, and you'd be getting the spanking of a lifetime, my girl."
Ia looked furtively around them, just in case she ended up there later.
He squeezed the arm that was around her, bringing her even closer to him. "I am exactly where I want to be—with you. No one forced me to ask you out the first time and certainly not the second. I like you. I've liked you since before I met you—that's how much your brother talks about you. I feel like I already know you, and I like what I know about you. Frankly, I annoyed your brother into bringing me home with him for the two weeks that I'm here just so I could meet you. I wasn't kidding when I said I thought I was experiencing love at first sight. It's not something a man would easily admit, but it's true."
He paused a minute before adding, "And as for Miss Campbell, coveting her friend's man so obviously, well, it's not like I couldn't see her coming a mile away, and I knew it was upsetting you, so we're here now. Me, with you, and that's how I would prefer it to be in the future, too. Me, with you, Us. Together. I know it's early days, and I don't want to scare you away. I just want you to be aware of where my mind is going on this." He wondered if he should say it, then he did because he really wanted to. "If I didn't think you'd turn me down flat, I would already have asked you to marry me."
Ia's breath caught in her throat. Her "No, don't say that!" was watery and tremulous.
"Why not?" he asked, moving the seat back and pulling her onto his lap.
"It's too soon." That wasn't the real reason, but it was the one he would most readily accept—one that would keep her from getting another spanking from him.
"I know. But I'm going to bring it up again, every once in a while, just to remind you that it's out there. You don't have to say or do anything about it, until you say 'yes' eventually, I hope."
She turned to face him, the crotch of her pedal pusher jeans right over his, making it fill that confined space out even more than it was before. Douglas reached up and brushed the remaining tears off her cheeks before he brought her mouth to his for a very soft, tender kiss. The exact opposite of the one the rest of his body wanted him to give her. Luckily, his brain was in charge—usually.
Ia looked down, then back up into his eyes, and he felt as if he'd been struck by a bolt of lightning.
"I just don't know what you're doing with me when Babe would have looked so good on your arm. The two of you belong together—"
"Stop that immediately," he scolded sharply, reaching down to squeeze a bottom cheek.
Ia yelped loudly at that bold advance.
"You've been warned about talking like that already. Are you looking to get spanked, Ia? Is that it? Because I would be only too happy to oblige."
"No!" she shrieked as he let loose with a flurry of swats. "No! Douglas! Stop!"
She was bouncing up and down on him—with no idea whatsoever about what she was doing to him, he was sure. It made him stop spanking her before he might have, as he lifted her off him and put her in her seat. He had to take a minute or two to get himself right, but then he smiled at her and started the car.
"I don't want to hear you saying things like that about yourself, Miss Ia. And I'll find out about them if you say them to anyone else. Either way, you will learn not to do so."
She sat silent in her seat.
"But that's enough of that for now. I don't want a chance encounter to ruin our day together." He took a deep breath, pushing all concerns away for the time being. "Bowling, next! I've never bowled your way."
"Our way?"
He explained the difference between bowling and bowls, and by the time he was done, they had arrived.
To keep body and soul together while they played, he bought himself a beer and brought her a Coke, which she frowned at but smartly didn't say anything, along with a large order of hand cut fries.
Even though it wasn't something he'd ever played before, unlike his companion, he was naturally athletic, so he beat her as badly at that as she had beaten him at miniature golf.
"I am vindicated!" he claimed on the way to the car.
"No, you're just tall and have long arms and—"
"Play better than you, is that what I'm hearing?"
She got into the passenger's side. "That may be what you're hearing, Mr. Martin, but that ain't what I'm saying."
"Well, even though you lost, I suppose I have to feed you."
"Where are we going?" she asked.
"A restaurant," he answered informatively.
Ia sighed. "Which restaurant?"
"One that serves food."
"I give up."
"It's one I think you'll like; does that help?"
"No. I like food, so I like most places."
"You do not."
"I do not what?"
"Like food. You barely eat anything."
"Well, that's how I maintain my girlish figure."
Damn, he couldn't argue with that, but he wanted to.
Chapter 9
She actually squealed a little when he pulled into Rosie's parking lot.
As he escorted her inside, then to a booth, he asked, "What's good here?"
"Everything. It's all homemade, even the chocolate milk, cocoa, and the hot fudge sauce. They make their own ice cream; the onion rings are hand cut and breaded."
"Okay, let me narrow things down a bit. What do you usually order when you come here?"
The waitress came over and answered for her. "Roast beef, sometimes double mashed, sometimes onion rings, with coleslaw and a snowflake roll."
It sounded like heaven to him.
"Is that what you're having?"
She nodded with barely concealed enthusiasm. "Yes, please. Onion rings this time."
"Duplicate hers, please, but I think I'll get the mashed."
Even before the waitress left, she was warning him, in all seriousness, "Okay, but
don't think you're going to steal any of my rings."
"I'll take my chances, since I've never seen you eat all of any meal. Heck, I've never seen you eat most of any meal."
Ia sniffed. "Well, Rosie's is different. I'd eat all of mine and all of yours, if I thought I could get away with it."
Douglas reached across the table and claimed her hand, looking directly into her eyes as he said, "You can have anything of mine that you want."
It was a profound statement, one she didn't really know what to say about in return, so she said what she was thinking about. "Can I ask you a question?"
He leaned back in the booth. "I'll do better than that. You can ask me any question."
"Any question? Really?"
"Of course. I am an open book to you. I'm not to everyone, just so you know."
For some reason, that revelation made her blush. "While you're here, where's your sister? Home alone?"
"Oh dear, no We have an aunt who lives close—sometimes Lynnie goes to stay with her; other times, Aunt Deelee comes and stays at our place."
"Deelee?"
"Yeah, her name's Deliah, but Lynnie couldn't say it when she was little, so she called her Deelee, and it's stuck."
"Oh."
"But no, I'm not about to leave her home without supervision. She's a good girl, but she's willful and headstrong, just like someone else I know."
Ia stuck her tongue out at him. "So, you don't trust her?"
"I absolutely do. But I know that she will feel safer, knowing there's someone around to enforce the rules."
"So your aunt spanks Lynette?"
"No, but she does give me a report on her behavior when I get home, and I decide whether or not any of her transgressions warrant discipline. I dislike the delay, but then, there's no one else I trust to discipline her."
Ia was thinking that she wished her brother shared the same philosophy, since he'd allowed Douglas to spank her. That was more than enough on that topic, she thought
"How many girlfriends have you had?"
He looked surprised. "Uh, I don't know that I've never kept track."
"Ball park it."
"Huh?"
"Best estimate?"
"Oh, uh…" She watched him calculating, mostly in his head, until he murmured, "Carry the one," after which she smacked him. "Thirteen, give or take."
"Really? That many?"
"Well, consider that I'm older than you are by a reasonable amount, so I've had more experience."
"Everyone has had more experience than I have. Sometimes I see fourteen year olds hanging off their boyfriends, and I know that even they have more experience than I do."
"Don't knock your innocence. It's quite intoxicating." He folded his arms on the table and looked at her as if he could read her mind, his voice deep and husky, "And I intend to be your first in everything."
Ia couldn't believe he'd said that to her! "Uh—"
He chuckled softly. "You don't have to say anything to that.
"Good. I have no idea what to say!"
"Sorry. Got a bit ahead of myself, as usual."
"Yes, I think so."
"Hopefully not too far, though."
Her breath hissed into her lungs at that, and her startled eyes found his.
She looked a bit frightened around the edges, so he decided to change the subject—sort of. "Now, I'd like to turn the tables a bit."
The waitress appeared with their meals, and when she'd gone, she prompted, "Oh?"
"Yes, I want to ask you some questions."
Her "All right," sounded extremely guarded and suspicious.
But then he took a bite of the roast and said, "Oh my word, this is excellent!"
"Isn't it?" She smiled. "Best meal anywhere!"
"I think I agree." He reached over and stole an onion ring, but that was okay, because she stole a forkful of his mashed potatoes. "Minx," he chastised without rancor.
As they were both—he noted, even she—working their way through their meals, he asked suddenly, "I assume you're a virgin?"
Ia choked on her coleslaw, so much so that she had to take a swig of Coke.
He managed to look concerned, amused, and utterly unapologetic at the same time.
"I take it the answer to that question is a resounding yes?"
She couldn't quite make herself answer him.
"You're even prettier when you blush, you know."
"Stop."
"No, I won't stop. I'm going to keep telling you that you're beautiful until you believe me, Ia. And perhaps throw a few spankings in there for good measure, when you put yourself down to the point that I feel it merits being disciplined for it." He put his fork down and caught her free hand. "Every time you question your looks, you question my taste, which is exquisite. I know a beautiful person when I see one, believe me."
"Douglas, you have to stop! I'm going to blush myself to death!"
"I'm going to assume you haven't, but I just want to confirm—you've never done anything physical with a man—besides me?" And they'd barely touched the tip of that iceberg, although he was thinking that he might have to speed things up more. The clock was ticking, and he was due back home next Friday.
Rather than choke again, Ia pushed her mostly finished plate away.
"No, I don't want you to stop eating, baby," he said, pushing it back. "If you can't say the words, just nod or shake your head."
She shook her head, very slowly.
"No, you haven't?"
"I haven't," she barely got out.
"That's—well, that makes me feel very honored, Ia," he said without a trace of irony.
"Did you like kissing me?"
She nodded, while munching on an onion ring.
"Good, because I like kissing you very much, and I intend to do more of it."
Ia continued to stare at her food.
"And other things."
Her eyes met his at that, but only for a second.
"I'll try not to push you too hard, but I'm definitely feeling the constraints of the really small amount of time I have left to get to know you."
The waitress arrived, taking his plate, which was entirely empty, and reaching for hers. But he stopped her and made her show him the plate, on which there was little left. "Okay, you can take it."
"Are we interested in ordering dessert?"
Douglas looked at her. "Well, you mostly finished your dinner. And didn't I hear something about this place having wonderful pies?"
"Chocolate coconut cream, please," Ia answered. He ordered pecan, and she waited until the older lady had left to get their desserts before she said, "You can't say or do things like that in front of other people, Douglas!"
He took a sip of his coffee. "I can't?"
"No! It's terribly embarrassing!"
"I'm just watching out for you. I want to make sure you're eating enough."
"Then tell me about it! Don't make horribly humiliating comments to the waitress!"
"That will be a great motivation for you to clean your plate, then, won't it?"
"Arrgghh!"
"How much vacation time do you have from the bank?"
"I thought I was asking the questions now," Ia pointed out.
"Well, I need to know."
"I get two weeks a year. I actually have a week they let me carry over from last year, so I have three weeks."
"And do you have any plans for that time?"
Ia shrugged. "Not particularly. I figured I'd take it in the summer, maybe go somewhere with some friends. I don't know. Why?"
Their pies arrived, and Ia dove eagerly into hers, trying unsuccessfully to stave off an attack from Douglas, who wanted a taste. He was mesmerized by her as she indulged in the sweet treat, moaning in ecstasy, and making him wonder if that was what she'd sound like when she was beneath him in bed. Then he had to force himself away from that line of thinking.
"Really good! The pecan is great, too—want some?" he offered.
"No, thank yo
u."
"The reason I asked about your vacation time was because I'd like you to seriously consider visiting me in England for some—or preferably all—of it."
She'd just taken a large bite, which gave her some time to think before she answered, "Um, I don't know. Sounds expensive."
"All expenses paid," he countered.
Her eyes went round. "Wh-what? You can't afford to do that!"
"Yes, I can."
She looked stunned at that information. "Y-you don't act like you can!" she accused, as if it was a bad thing.
Douglas chuckled at that. "Thank you, I think? It's a good thing, yes, when one is rich but not flashy?"
Ia was flustered. "B-besides, I wouldn't want you to pay for me. It wouldn't be right."
He leaned across the table to whisper, "Why? Do you think I'd want to do something naughty in exchange for the money I spent on you?"
"Douglas!"
"I definitely want you to do something naughty with me, but I want that now, and money has nothing to do with it, and it wouldn't then, either. It's just a convenience to get you closer to me."
"I've always wanted to go to England," she mused, playing with her fork. "I love British history."
"I can show you loads of castles," he sing-songed, not mentioning that he owned one himself. "We can do London up right—go to all of the tourist attractions—watch the changing of the guard and go to Parliament and Westminster Abbey and Windsor and Oxford and Scotland if you like. I'll go anywhere and do anything you want, as long as I can have you at my side."
He noticed that she had stopped eating.
"You don't have to finish your pie—I'll do that for you. But I want you to take another couple bites, love. And I'm sorry for interrupting your pure joy of it with other things. I just wanted you to think about it."
"I do have another question," she mentioned while savoring the last few bites.
"Shoot."
"Yesterday, we talked about me being cool to Daniel because I resented him punishing me when I'm an adult."
"Yes." Considering the surprising subject matter that she'd chosen, Douglas focused all of his attention on her.
"Your sister is how old?"
"She'll be eighteen in April. On the sixth, to be exact."
Undercover Sir Page 11