“Good. Okada is in the product development stage for creating healthier frozen entrées. Since these foods will launch an entirely new product line, and will only be offered for limited distribution, we’re looking for a younger, hipper, fresher packaging design. We received your name and were intrigued by your ad designs for local organic food outlets, such as Wicksburg Farms, Grass Roots, Fresh Start, and the farm-to-table restaurants like Nature’s Bounty and Juniper’s Garden that specialize in the type of audience we hope to target.”
That piqued her curiosity. “Your company is entering the organic food market?”
“We’re dipping our toe in the water. We’ve chosen a few areas of the country to test-market and we’re restricting the product line to higher-end grocery markets. Would you be interested in looking at some specs?”
“What type of specs?”
“An outline of what we’d need for FDA packaging requirements, including details of each specific food item, the deadline, a budget, and samples of existing products in the Okada line.”
“Sounds like an interesting project. I’d love to see the specs.”
“Excellent. First we’ll send a nondisclosure statement for you to sign and ask that you don’t discuss this potential project even before you receive the packet of information.”
A tiny kernel of excitement built in her. “Not a problem. When should I expect it?”
“Tomorrow morning.”
“That fast? From overseas?”
“No. I’m based in the Seattle office. My contact information will be with the nondisclosure statement, and if you’d be so kind to drop me an e-mail after you receive the packet tomorrow, I’d appreciate it.”
“Will do.”
“Thank you. We’re looking forward to the possibility of working with you, Ms. Hardwick. Good-bye.”
Amery stared at the receiver after the woman hung up. Odd to have something like that come from out of left field. Really odd. Wasn’t it? Then again, the woman had mentioned Amery’s biggest clients, so she had done her research. Maybe she’d even contacted a few of those clients to get a recommendation.
“Amery?” Molly prompted. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“I said your name, like, three times.”
“Sorry. Just lost in thought.” She tapped her pen on the desk. “This is a weird question. But have you gotten any strange phone calls lately?”
Molly frowned. “Like how weird? And how recently?”
“In the last couple of weeks.”
“Not that recently. But the week after the break-in I got a call from someone asking for information on you. It started out with general questions and then it got personal. That’s when I told the caller I was uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation. She thanked me for my time and hung up. The number was unlisted and I figured it was someone with the insurance company checking to make sure you weren’t the type who’d trash your own building and file a claim on it.”
Amery’s eyes widened. “Why didn’t you tell me this?”
Molly fidgeted and pushed away from the doorframe. “Because it was confidential and I’d forgotten about it until just now.” She paused. “But I think you should know that same person contacted both Chaz and Emmylou, asking them the same kinds of questions about you and the business. They were asked to keep it confidential too.”
That kicked Amery’s memory. Her mother had mentioned getting a phone call pertaining to Amery’s personal and professional life that same week. That pissed her off. She’d made an insurance claim one time and the company questioned her integrity? Behind her back? Harassing her coworker, her office mates, and her mother?
“I’m sure it’s just standard procedure,” Molly said diplomatically. “Especially since the cops were involved.”
“Maybe you’re right.” But something about it didn’t sit well with her.
“So, who called that made you bring this up with me?”
“Doesn’t matter now.” Although Molly would eventually work on the Okada project if Amery landed it, and she’d already signed nondisclosure agreements with Hardwick Designs, Amery didn’t want to discuss the potential project because she didn’t want to jinx it. “Who were you talking to?”
“Nancy at Grass Roots. They’re having some kind of members-only sale in three days. And she’s sorry for the late notice . . .”
Par for the course with Nancy, so Amery didn’t even blink. “What does she need?”
“An ad that goes out in an e-mail blast to their newsletter subscribers. And Q codes for the twenty products they’re putting on special.”
“What else?”
“Each store will offer twenty sale items. Fifteen are standard, and then five items are sale items unique to that store.”
“Which means multiple newsletters.”
Molly nodded. “A master, which will go out to everyone. And then another one for whichever store they’re registered at.”
Amery tapped her fingers on her desk and tried to sort through it. “Can’t we just list everything in the master for all eight stores? There are fifteen things that will be on special on all six locations. And then under that can’t we list the five unique items to each store? Like the Lakewood store is running a special on spelt flour, kumquats, organic beets, gluten-free crackers, and chemical-free dishwasher soap? And the Castle Rock store is running, X, Y, Z, A, and B?”
“That’s what I thought too. But Nancy swears their sales numbers can back up that a general ad blast, and then a targeted ad blast increases their sales by seventeen percent.”
“She’s got the data to back it up, and if that’s what she wants . . . she is the client.”
“Yep.” Molly smiled. “Plus, we get paid more, since it’ll be more work for us and we can’t afford to turn any extra jobs down right now, can we?”
With the downturn in business, Molly hadn’t asked if her position was at risk, but she could see the writing on the wall if things didn’t pick up. “No. So how detailed are her spec sheets?”
“Same as usual. She’s sending a courier over with the stuff you need to take pics of. And she warned me, like, three times not to unpack everything because it’s sorted and bundled according to store.”
“Fine. You’re working on the newsletters?”
“I’m loading the templates and I’ll start with the master.”
Amery had done a lot of work for Grass Roots over the past six years. The stores featured organic food from produce to meat and dairy. It was similar to the big organic national food chain with the exception that it was locally owned and the company of eight stores supported Colorado-grown produce, Colorado-raised meat, Colorado dairies, and other products made in Colorado. Most companies wouldn’t take actual pictures of the items and produce available in their stores; it was much easier to use stock images. But Grass Roots wanted their newsletters to be an honest representation of what their stores offered. So Amery’s photography skills were put to the test, taking shots of everything from Romanesque broccoli to free-range chicken carcasses.
She stood and grabbed her empty coffee mug. As she passed Molly’s desk, she said, “Want a refill?”
Molly handed over her cup without looking away from her computer screen. “Might as well load us both up because it’s going to be a late night.”
• • •
AMERY finished the last shot for the newsletter around ten o’clock and sent Molly home. Since she got to keep the items she photographed, she sorted items she didn’t need, like organic dog food, into donate and save piles. But after a long day she only had the energy to refrigerate the perishables.
Around eleven Ronin texted he was at the back door. Yawning, she hefted herself out of the chair and cut through the back room to let him in.
The man was on her even before she closed the door. She twined her arms around his neck and held on, letting the energy that always pulsed from him restore hers.
He broke the kiss and s
aid, “I missed you last night.”
“Same here. I was just finishing up.”
“Anything I can do to help?”
She pecked him on the mouth. “Keep me company.” As she locked the door, she said offhandedly, “I should just give you a key.” When he didn’t respond, she backtracked, “Not that I’m making it into a big thing, I just thought—”
Ronin spun her around and framed her face in his hands. “It is a big thing. Next time you come over I’ll give you a key card and the codes to my place.” He pressed a kiss on her forehead. “I’m not doing this just to give you free swimming privileges—you know that, right?”
“Right.” Smiling, she took his hand and led him to her small studio.
He bent down and peered at the props on the table. “What are those? Turnips?”
“Golden beets. They’re milder than regular beets but still good.”
“I might have to try cooking with them.” Ronin’s gaze took in the piles everywhere. “Looks like you’ve been busy. Does that mean things are looking better on the business front?”
They hadn’t talked about her business struggles at all in the weeks since he’d offered her a loan. While she still appreciated his generosity, taking his money—no matter how much she needed it and how well intentioned he was in offering it—would drive a wedge between them. Not only because of her pride, but it’d just add another layer to their already complicated relationship.
“All this”—she gestured to the piles—“is for a Grass Roots newsletter. As far as adding new business . . . it’s been pretty slim pickin’s.” She thought back to the phone call from today. That could be huge. So huge she couldn’t wrap her head around it, or why they’d approached her.
Then Ronin was in her face, resting his right hand against her cheek. “I recognize that look. Did something happen today that’s worrying you?”
How could he read her so easily and she couldn’t read him at all?
She latched on to the first random thought that popped into her head. “It didn’t happen today. It’s something I’ve been putting off, which isn’t smart when I need the work, but the project is out of my usual realm.” She frowned. “Out of my realm photographically speaking.”
“What do you mean?”
Amery dropped into her chair and propped her bare feet up on the edge of her desk. “Several weeks ago this author contacted me, asking if I’d be interested in creating a cover for her next digital book. At first the whole thing tripped my warning bells because that was a day after the night I ran from you and your magic rope tricks.”
A smile ghosted around his mouth.
“Anyway, it struck me as coincidental that this erotic author I didn’t know wanted a specific image for her cover.”
“And what image is that?”
Her gaze hooked his. “A woman in bondage.”
His expression didn’t change.
“I thought you’d put her up to contacting me, expecting I’d ask her a lot of questions and during those conversations I’d get a handle on the mixed feelings I was having about you and your rope proclivities.”
“And?”
“And she did give me a different perspective, for which I owe her. I agreed to work on her cover. She’s not under deadline, and neither am I, so in my spare time, I’ve been thinking about how to create the image she wants—a woman in bondage that’s tasteful and sexy, yet doesn’t show any of her girl parts.” Amery twisted her ponytail around her finger. “The thing is, if I do a good job, it could open up a whole new income stream for me. I won’t get rich creating custom digital book covers, but any projects that keep me in business are worth attempting. So I can’t figure out why I’m dragging my feet.”
Ronin remained quiet. But he paced, which wasn’t like him. After a couple of minutes she got tired of watching him. She tipped her head back into the headrest and closed her eyes.
She’d just started to drift when warm lips pressed into her forehead. “Don’t crash on me now when I have a solution for you.” Then his lips brushed over hers half a dozen times before he sank into her mouth for a panty-dropping kiss. Then he pulled back abruptly.
Amery opened her eyes. “Were we done kissing? Because it sure didn’t feel like it.”
“I just wanted to make sure you were awake.”
“Now I’m wide-awake and ready to strip off my clothes so you can fuck me over my desk.” She moved everything to the side, creating a large empty spot in the center. “See?”
“Another time.”
“Fine.” She set her feet on the floor. “What is your solution?”
Ronin spun her chair around and placed his hands over her forearms on the armrests. “You need a picture of a woman in bondage. I’m a bondage master.”
“And?”
“And you should be the model.”
Her mouth dropped open. “Are you insane?”
“Hear me out. You want it tasteful and anonymous? Set up the camera with the right lighting and angle and all I have to do is press the button. You’ve got your artistic bondage cover.”
“Ronin. Didn’t we discuss that I’m all right with you binding me as long as it’s not in public?”
“Yes. But this is private. A shadowed photo of you is much different than me binding you in front of everyone at the club. And the bonus? You’ll get to see how absolutely stunning you look when I have you bound.”
She stared at him, in shock and yet . . . not. “How would you bind me?”
Pure pleasure warmed his eyes. “With your arms behind your back in a dragonfly sleeve. I’d use red rope. It’d be a gorgeous contrast against your pearly skin.”
Maybe she was sleep-deprived or just curious, but she found she wanted to see herself as Ronin saw her: her naked body as a canvas for his artistic tying skills. “Okay.”
Ronin kissed her quickly, but their teeth clacked together because he wore a big grin. “I’ll grab my bag.”
“You just happen to have a bag of red ropes with you?”
“I like to be prepared.”
In the small studio, Amery chose a different backdrop and adjusted the umbrella lights. She rarely did portraits because she didn’t feel she had the artistic eye for it. But in this case only her back would be visible in the shot.
Ronin hadn’t returned by the time she was ready to take a few test shots. After removing her shirt, she hooked up the remote button to the camera on the tripod. Using a roll of masking tape, she marked off a spot, stood on it with her bare back to the camera, and snapped a pic. Then she returned behind the camera and scrolled to the digital image. Too close. She backed up the camera, stood on the X, and clicked off another shot.
Better. But the light glared off her shoulder blade. After adjusting the backlight, she threw a diffuser—just a piece of darker opaque fabric—over the top of the light. She found her mark on the X again.
Before she clicked the remote, Ronin said, “Arch your back and turn your head to the right instead of looking forward.”
“I don’t want anyone to see my face, remember?”
“Only your profile is visible and you can darken that after you get the shot.” When he closed in behind her, his body heat warmed her and his presence soothed her. He tugged the ponytail holder free, running his fingers through the long strands. “There. Now take it.”
Amery angled her head and pushed the button.
When she whirled around, she expected to see Ronin behind the camera checking out the shot, but he remained off to the side, letting her do her job.
“You’re right,” she admitted. “That is much better.” She tested a couple more, adjusting the zoom a fraction. After repositioning the tapes, she inhaled a deep breath, waiting for Ronin’s instruction.
Then he was behind her, that deliciously deep voice in her ear. “You ready for me to start tying you, beautiful?”
“Yes.”
He placed a soft kiss on her shoulder. “Arms at your sides.”
Am
ery lowered her arms and closed her eyes.
She heard him behind her. The rustle of fabric as he removed his shirt and became Ronin the rope master.
His bare skin brushed hers as he swept her hair aside. Then he unhooked her bra and slid it off. He brushed a kiss between her breasts as he unzipped her jeans, tugging them down her hips and to the floor. When she attempted to kick them free, he said, “No. Keeping them around your ankles will hold you in place.”
Just another way he chose to bind her.
His finger leisurely followed the lace edge of her panties hugging her lower curves. Then his lips thoroughly tracked her spine from the dimples above her ass to the nape of her neck.
Although her pulse raced and her blood seemed to pump hotter with anticipation, she focused on her breathing.
Ronin slipped rope over both of her shoulders. She felt a quick pull, and sections of rope brushed the inside of her arms as he secured the first knot. More rope slid up her wrists and over her elbows to cross her upper arms. Another tug, another caress on her skin beneath the knots. His soft, steady exhales drifted over her damp flesh.
Goose bumps spread just from the nearness of his mouth to her skin.
Callused hands were busy behind her, rarely jerky, never clumsy. At times the rope would swing across her calves, giving the impression of his fingers teasing her there, even when she felt his fingertips on her spine.
The more knots he added to the rope configuration, the closer her arms got to touching. This pattern didn’t restrict her breathing like some of the chest harnesses he’d crafted. Yet Amery found herself floating into that same headspace, where his fleeting touches set off little pulses beneath her skin.
He held her wrists and placed several thick loops in the center of the rope that kept her wrists from touching.
Amery knew when Ronin finished. He stepped back to scrutinize his creation, much like an artist. Then he’d make minute adjustments to the ropes. Sometimes he’d circle her, looking from all angles. But this time he stayed behind her.
And his voice was so perfectly modulated it never abruptly brought her out of that trancelike state when he spoke. “Amery.”
She didn’t have to answer him; he just needed to know he had her attention. She barely moved her head in acknowledgment.
Bound: The Mastered Series Page 30