Pieces of Paisley

by Leigh Ann Lunsford

  Ebbie Moresco- Your notes were priceless and helped the growth of this book. I can’t tell you the smile I had on my face every time I got a message from you; you never doubted me and I thank you for that.

  Helena Rizzuto- Thank you for jumping on my crazy train. I know NE will always be your love, but the way you embraced me and my writing, I heart you!

  Jen Wildner- You complete me . . . from our texts, bitch sessions (teenagers suck), laughter and your faith in me to succeed. I love you asshole!

  Jeneane Johnston- I love being your $2 whore… really, I do. Thank you for the support and words of encouragement and love for POP. You finally got your name in a book!

  Kristen Geist- You have given me a love for shoes that I would have never found- and HFS has become my motto. From you laughing at my Facebook banner begging for reviews our relationship grew and I know without a doubt I can count on you and that means the world!

  Stephie Walls- What can I say about you . . . FLOVE! I still can’t believe someone as talented as you will read my words and actually enjoy them. We will always have Writercation 2014!

  Terri Sullivan- Our chats and smart ass statuses crack me up. Your generous heart makes you an incredible and special person and I am thankful to have you in my life. You even offered to drive down to take care of me when my clumsy ass fell into a bookshelf.

  Yolanda March- You took a chance on me and encouraged me. You have so many ideas for my success and it is surreal to me. Thank you for loving POP and all your ideas.

  Okay my Street Team- HFS . . . y’all amaze me daily: Allison, Amanda, Danielle, Ebbie, Helena, Jaci, Jen, Jeneane, Jennifer, Kristen, Liz, Monique, Rebecca, Shawna, Stephie, Stracey, Taira, Tammie, Terri, Tracy, and Yvette. Love you all!

  Bloggers are the cornerstone to our business. You read, review, promote, run social media sites, and encourage us all. I don’t have enough thanks for you all, but know this Indie Author appreciates it.

  About the Author

  Leigh Ann Lunsford is a stay at home mom turned author. She writes Romance/New Adult and loves her happily ever after in all books and movies. She lives with her husband, son, and four dogs in Fleming Island, Florida. When she isn’t writing or reading you can find her stuck in front of really bad reality shows or watching Sons of Anarchy. Leigh Ann has a filthy mouth and a huge amount of sarcasm that knows no end. She hopes to give the voices in her head an outlet with many more novels to come.

  Social Media/Email:

  Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/leighannauthor

  Email: lalunsfordauthor@gmail.com

  Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/user/show/25235051

  Metamorphosis

  By Stephie Walls

  Copyright © 2014 by Stephie Walls All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any form or by any means electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or any information storage and revival systems without prior written permission from the author except where permitted by law.

  The characters, places, and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons living or dead is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Contact: stephie@stephiewalls.com or www.facebook.com/stephiewalls2014

  CHAPTER ONE

  I am a dominant female in my every day life. I work as a CEO for Regional Bank, and I’m a no-nonsense woman, driven to succeed. I control every aspect of my life – every single one. What I hadn’t figured out was why I was left feeling so empty at the end of the day. Then, the awakening came. I realized my need to be submissive in one area of my life. There is one role in which I don’t want to dominate; I don’t want to control. I want, no need, for someone to control me. It has been so long since I had it, I didn’t remember what an essential part of me it truly is.

  My heart burns for a man who can tame my attitude, who can give me one look and heat the pool between my legs, whose glance sends me to my knees in a submissive pose waiting for instructions. I desire with every fiber of my being to have a man take over, for me to trust him to care for me and nourish my soul.

  Several years ago, I dated a man who pushed my limits, made me succumb to his needs. I was young and naïve. I considered the things he wanted to do to me taboo and was silently ashamed of how much I loved when he did them. I got off on his pulling my hair, spanking me, taking my ass, binding me, restraining me, but when you have lived in the heart of the Bible Belt, those aren’t things people discuss, and they sure don’t promote their enjoyment of them. I felt like a freak. When things ended, it left a void I have never been able to fill again, that is, until I met Dax.

  Dax Cooper. He walked into my office to make a delivery, and for whatever reason the receptionist didn’t stop him; instead, she pointed him directly to me. My office door is open when he lightly raps his knuckles on the wood. Glancing up, my breath catches in my throat as I struggle to acknowledge him, as he looms in the doorway in a brooding way. He exudes power and confidence standing there in his brown uniform with the little yellow logo on the pocket of his shirt, holding my package in one hand and his Diad in the other. The short sleeves of his shirt expose his tan, toned, and tatted forearms. I can see the outline of his broad chest and wonder briefly what it would be like to be caught up in his body. I am soaking in the sight of his form when my eyes reach his face. I’m met with the most haunting green eyes I have ever seen, almost a sage color that screams out in total contrast to his golden skin. His aura engulfs the room. It’s intoxicating.

  When I neglect to say anything, he clears his throat as the corner of his mouth turns up slightly in an arrogant grin, acknowledging he knows what I am thinking. I struggle to find words before finally spitting out, “Can I help you?”

  “I’m looking for Cameron Pierce,” he states in a deep tenor that rolls like waves through my body.

  I stand to make my way toward him when he starts to approach me. My office is big; he stalks toward me, as if he owns the place, halting my approach. My instincts tell me to hide under my desk before this man reaches me. Instead, I round the front of it, holding out my hand to sign for the package. “I’m Cameron.” The feeling of intimidation in my world is so foreign to me, but his presence is overpowering, and what’s worse, he can sense it like a shark in bloody waters. Evening out the playing field is a must at this point, although I have no idea why I feel the need to set the delivery guy in his place. Straightening my spine as I finish signing my name, I look him dead in the eyes in raging bitch mode. “In the future, please have the receptionist sign for deliveries. She will get them to the appropriate person.”

  The son of a bitch erupts in laughter; it is a deep laugh that shakes me. I feel it through my limbs even though he isn’t touching me. “Sure thing, Kitten.” He shakes his head and turns away without so much as a glance back. I stand stock-still watching him stroll off wondering what the hell has just taken place.

  Two days later, same scene. There is a knock on my door, and there he stands package in hand. He doesn’t wait for me to respond, just waltzes in when I make eye contact with him. “Cameron Pierce.” The way he says my name makes me want to strip for him and get down on my knees. I hate being called Cameron – it’s formal, and the only people in my life who use it are my grandmother and the people I work with. But from his lips, it is smooth and melodic. I wonder what it would be like to hear him say my name as he came in my mouth. “Sign here please,” once again pushing the Diad in my direction.

  “Was I not clear about leaving packages with the receptionist earlier this week?” This man is used to women falling at his feet; you can see it in his cocky demeanor. I refuse to give him the satisfaction of knowing that I want to be one of those women.

  “You were clear, Kitten. I just didn’t care.” He winks at me, but a smile never touches his lips, and then he leaves. Who the hell does this guy think he is and why the fuck is Julie letting him past reception? I make a mental note to ask her that very question the next time
I see her. My phone rings, tearing me away from my irritation with the package delivery encounter. My day went from crazy to shit in one phone call. I am kept in meetings the rest of the day and what seems to be half of the night with board members, the CFO, and the rest of the Executive Committee due to a security breach in one of our online divisions. This type of thing is a PR nightmare, not to mention extremely costly to fix.

  With all of the security issues my phone is ringing off the hook, and I am being bombarded by emails – I can’t get my head above water. Sixteen-hour workdays for weeks at a time have taken a toll on my body. I had completely forgotten about my package delivery guy and never remembered to talk to Julie about allowing people beyond reception who don’t have appointments, that is, until the familiar tapping on my door takes me out of my spreadsheet-induced trance. Startled, I look up to find those haunting green eyes boring holes into me. I’m sure he can sense my agitation. Hell, everyone in this office would be retreating for the hills giving me wide girth if they felt what was lingering in the air in my office.

  “Sir, I’m not sure what I need to say to get through to you that packages should be left at reception.” I hate being ignored, but more than that, I hate being disobeyed, and this guy doesn’t give a rip-roaring rat’s ass I don’t want him in my office.

  Completely ignoring me, he hands me the board. “Just sign for the package, Kitten,” and with no further ado he is retreating out of my space.

  This time I follow him, bound and determined to get Julie to understand. I am a few feet behind him when I see him stop at Julie’s desk. He starts to talk to her causing me to hesitate in the hall just outside of his line of vision. Julie gives him a warm smile, but it isn’t a come hither smile, it is a familiar one. “Make any headway, Dax?” She beams up at him.

  “Nah, I think I’m just irritating the shit out of her.”

  “Are you going all Dom on her? You know that doesn’t work with dominant women, right?” She chuckles at him like he is an idiot.

  His face softens talking to her. “She’s not dominant, Julie.”

  At that, Julie bursts out into a fit of roaring laughter. She’s a beautiful girl with shoulder-length red hair, highlighted to perfection; she has model-like features with high cheekbones, large, wide-set blue eyes that are such a pale blue sometimes I wonder if there is really any color in them at all; and she’s thin. Perfectly proportioned and dressed to kill, not only is she stunning, she’s smart as a whip, to boot. She just graduated from Furman University and has been interning here for years. She’s finishing the summer in the receptionist role before moving to the Marketing Department.

  “I would have to disagree with you there. She’s tough as nails. There’s never a kink in her armor – she never makes mistakes. She controls this entire company with grace I only wish I had, and she never falters. She’s one of those women who can tell you off, and you feel like you won an award when she’s done.”

  “That doesn’t make her dominant, at least not where it matters. Anyway, I thought you liked her?” His face shows signs of confusion.

  “Oh, I absolutely adore her. I hope to be just like her in ten years. I’m just saying she’s not going to put up with anyone’s domineering bullshit, not even yours, pretty boy.” He softly laughs, and the lull in the conversation greets me with an opening to address the delivery issue.

  As I approach them, he straightens, losing the calm demeanor he had when he was talking to Julie. A twinge of jealousy shoots through me; he is carefree and relaxed with her but completely alpha-asshole with me. I swallow the green envy taking me over as I step to the edge of the reception desk. He takes my arrival as his cue to depart, just throwing up a hand to Julie and waving as he pushes through the glass doors.

  “Julie, could you please accept the packages that come in going forward? There’s no reason for them to be brought directly to me.”

  “Absolutely, Ms. Pierce. It won’t happen again.”

  “Great. Thank you.” I turn to walk off, but she stops me.

  “Ms. Pierce?”

  “Yes?”

  “I know it’s none of my business, but Dax Cooper’s a great guy.”

  “I’m sure he is, but he can deliver the packages to you or the mail room.” There’s the no nonsense woman she was just telling Dax about. Realizing I now have a name for my harasser, I grin. It suits him. It makes me want to say his name out loud, to feel how each letter will glide off my tongue and part my lips. Without another word, I return to my office.

  During the heat of the lunch hour the next day, there's a knock on my door again. I am on the phone when I look up to find him looming in front of me. My face flushes red with irritation. Julie’s ass is on the line for this one. I hold up my finger indicating he should hold on, which he mistakes for an invitation to sit down in one of the chairs in front of my desk. He watches me intently as I discuss financial issues with our CFO, listening like he cares and understands what I am talking about. His green eyes soften a bit while he soaks me in.

  When I finish the call, I just stare at him, baiting him to utter the first words. We sit silently for several minutes. I can play this game all day long; I didn’t get where I am at thirty-five by being impatient. I wait for opportunities to present themselves, and then I pounce. I can wait hours if I need to, but this asshat is going to understand that regardless of how he wrinkles my panties, his intrusions on my day have to stop. Sitting back in my chair, I cross my legs resting my hands in my lap. I don’t strike a defensive posture; I don’t want to give him any thought of having an upper hand. He is on the clock. He will have to leave to go make a delivery or something. He can’t outwait me – it just isn’t possible. Well over fifteen minutes later, with no sound uttered from either of us, he finally breaks. I start a score tally in my head: Cam one, Dax zero.

  “Cameron,” his voice is firm and commanding. “We have dinner reservations tonight at seven at Sassafras. Would you like to meet me, or would you prefer I pick you up?”

  I’m appalled although slightly turned on by his overconfidence, his assumption I’m available to him on his whim. As much as I would love to spend the evening getting to know the ins and outs of his body, I am not interested in a get-to-know you dinner. I don’t have time for men as fixtures in my life. “As thrilling as it is to be told we have a date rather than being asked, I will politely decline.”

  “No, you won’t. I’m not asking if you will go. I’m asking if you want to meet me there, or if you want me to pick you up. Those are your only options, Kitten.” His stoic face shows no sign of emotion.

  “You’re serious? Does this work with all the ladies? You just stroll in their office repeatedly, unannounced after being told not to do so, and they just fall at your feet?”

  “I wouldn’t know – I’ve never had to make multiple attempts before.” Holy shit, he is dead serious. This guy is blatantly telling me that he doesn’t have to encourage women – they just fall for him.

  “As enlightening as your past pursuits are, I’m not interested.”

  “I’m not going to beg. We will have dinner tonight. Since you aren’t inclined to answer the question, I will tell you to meet me there. I expect you to be on time.” With that he gets up and leaves. He fucking left. Just like that.

  Picking up my phone, I call Julie. “Yes, ma’am?” she answers in the same professional voice I’ve heard for years.

  “Julie, how the hell did that man get back to my office?” I am fuming, on the verge of losing my self-control, and it has never happened in the fifteen years I have been working here. Not one time.

  “I’m sorry, Ms. Pierce. He wasn’t delivering a package. If he had been, I would have accepted it,” her voice trembles.

  “Julie, come to my office please.” I hang up the phone, wishing I had gotten a replacement for my Admin while she is out on maternity leave. Kathryn is a bear as a gatekeeper. No one gets through her by phone or in person. She would have Dax by his balls up against the wall
until security removed him from the building, and he would have only made one visit.

  Julie comes in looking at the floor thinking she is about to get reprimanded or fired. I sigh, putting my head in my hands on my desk. “Ms. Pierce?” she questions me meekly.

  “Julie, first of all, straighten up and stop staring at the floor. Even if you were in trouble, which you are not, never let your fear or trepidation show outwardly. You’ll be amazed at what you can get away with if people see confidence.” Confusion mars her face momentarily before my words register in her head, and her body language instantly changes. This girl has the makings of a real leader; she just needs someone to mold her and show her how to bring out what’s already inside.

  “I’m sorry, Ms. Pierce. I shouldn’t have let Dax…. “

  Interrupting her, “Second lesson, never apologize in the business world until someone has told you that you’ve made a mistake and then be damned sure it isn’t a personal apology. You are not here to make people like you; you are here to do a job. You can have both after you have earned the respect of your co-workers. Finally, stop calling me Ms. Pierce. Cameron or Cam will be fine. Now, have a seat.”

  She complies, keeping her posture erect, confident. Smart girl. “I’m just going to be blunt because I’m too tired to pussyfoot around this situation. Who the hell is Dax Cooper?”

  “Well, I’ve known him since I was a little girl. He’s always looked out for me. He works for the package service that delivers here. He’s thirty-six.” She is listing details like they are items on a grocery list.

  “I’m sorry, let me rephrase. Who is Dax Cooper to you?” My patience is waning. It is getting late in the afternoon, and this beast of a man is expecting me at a restaurant downtown in just a couple of hours.