Bondage And Bureaucracy
Page 18
“If it’s any consolation,” Evan continued, “I hear Eve takes very good care of her slaves.”
“Blow me.”
Evan chuckled then took a pull on his beer. “Isn’t Harriet Langly in her seventies?”
“Seventy-five,” Donavan grumbled. “And as limber as a goddamn ballerina. You’d think Eve forcing me to watch that sex tape would be punishment enough.”
“That good, eh?”
“Let’s just say after the scene with the gardener, I’ll never be able to look at ornamental shrubbery in the same way again.”
Evan laughed harder now, but Donavan’s scowl only deepened.
This was not how he pictured things transpiring with Eve. She claimed to be a Mistress, yet her body screamed submissive. Whenever he whispered naughty, shameless words about taking her in hand, her lashes always fluttered and her cheeks always flushed. When he cornered her in a hallway like a lion stalking his prey, excitement lit in her vivid green eyes. Eve might say she was a Mistress but people lied every day. Physical reaction didn’t.
Unfortunately his suspicions were neither here nor there now. He wasn’t a welcher. Whether he liked it or not, tomorrow night he’d be peeling grapes and giving PG-rated foot massages.
“Mr. Carver? Oh wow, it is you! Small world! How lucky am I, getting to see you twice in one day?”
Drawn out of his pity party by a small blonde leaning against the bar, Donavan tried to place her. It could have been the potency of the scotch, but for the life of him, he couldn’t remember who she was. About five-three, wide blue eyes, pleated plaid skirt and snug white blouse—not his usual type but there was a period in law school that included toga’s, bottomless kegs, and a hell of a lot of women.
Donavan glanced at Evan in hopes of a life preserver, but his friend only arched a brow.
“My apologies, sweetheart, I can’t quite remember your name.”
“Marcy. Marcy Baxter.” She beamed and gave him a playful slap on the shoulder but the name didn’t ring any bells. “Ms. Morgan’s assistant.”
Ms. Morgan’s assistant…Duh.
“Right. Right, Marcy. Of course. Sorry, my head’s still a bit fuzzy from the case.”
“It’s okay.” She continued to stare and nibble provocatively on her lower lip. “I’m sorry about the loss.”
“Ah.” Donavan raised his glass. “Happens to the best of us.”
“True. It could just as easily be Ms. Morgan sitting here, drowning her sorrows. I had to burn three red lights in order to get the tape to the courthouse in time. Luckily, I made it with twenty minutes to spare.”
So this was the woman responsible for the piece of evidence that would land him on his knees. Fantastic. As her words echoed in his head again, he creased his brow. Did she say she’d brought the tape with twenty minutes to spare?
Donavan went ramrod straighten in his chair and turned to her. Twenty minutes before the recess ended was about the same time he and Eve were chatting in the hallway.
“Marcy, you said that this is the second time seeing me today—did you happen to see me at the courthouse?”
“Where else?” She giggled. “Maybe you didn’t see me. You were talking to Ms. Morgan when I got there.”
Evelyn Morgan…you little cheat.
“Oh shoot, there’s my order,” Marcy said. “The fish and chips here are to die for. A bit unhealthy, but you gotta live a little, right?”
“No point in living if you can’t indulge in the sinful from time to time.” Donavan offered a polite smile while indulging in the fantasy of ringing Eve’s slender neck.
“Well, see ya around. It was nice running into you.”
“You too, Marcy.” You have no idea how nice. “Enjoy your dinner.”
When Marcy was out of earshot, Donavan whirled on Evan. “She played me.”
“So it would seem,” Evan agreed with a chuckle. “Getting played by two women in one day, how unlike you.”
It certainly was unlike him. The horrifying image of Harriet Langly in all her glory resurfaced and Donavan flexed his jaw. At least with Harriet, he had an excuse for lowering his guard—he hardly knew the woman. But Eve he had known for years. She was calculating and shrewd. Two of the attributes he most admired about her had come to life and bit him square on his unsuspecting ass.
“So, are you going to call her on it?” Evan asked intrigued.
“Oh yes,” he murmured. “But, not just yet.”
“You’ll follow through with the bet then?”
“For now,” he answered.
Donavan had a hard time believing Eve would be as noble when it came to him collecting on their agreement. As much as he didn’t like the idea of playing the good slave, he would have to until he got her alone.
“But, Evelyn Morgan is about to discover that she isn’t the only one who can play dirty.”
Also Read
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By Mia Downing
Emma Walters didn’t choose to be a spy, but when her crazy father was caught selling bombs to the wrong people, she was given a choice—become a spy or rot in jail. Her exciting new life as agent Kate Wells becomes more so when she discovers her new boss is the agent—undercover and investigating her father at the time—who took her to third base. Emma is already half in love with the dark and dangerous Chase Sanders. Kate wants nothing more than for him to finish what he started, but he’s the devil incarnate. And one doesn’t make deals or fall in love with the devil.
If someone had told Chase he’d fall in love with a certain virgin when he was on his last mission, he would have shot them dead, sniper style. She was nothing more than collateral damage, damn it. But watching the sexy new spy morph into a bombshell killing machine is too much to bear. So when the powers that be command him to train her in the art of seduction for her first—and possibly last—mission, he’s scared witless. Making love to Kate means preparing her for sex with another man.
Somehow, Chase has to find a way to get Kate in—and out—of her mission without dying. And without falling in love.
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