“Come to my office. I have something for you, remember?”
“Okay.”
His own steps faltered when he recalled the half-conversation he’d overheard in the corridor. Did he have any business opening the can of worms his gift could entail? “I have a question.”
Trotting up the stairs, keeping pace with him easily, she said, “I probably have an answer.”
“Do you have a child?”
“What?” she asked, seeming surprised. “No. Why do you want to know that?”
“I overheard your phone conversation and was curious.”
She shrugged, and he was relieved she didn’t appear upset. She wasn’t his, technically, and he had no right to ask her personal questions. She said, “Curious is okay. I was talking to my brother and then to my grandmother.”
“Is that who Grinnie is?” he asked with a smile. Of course Bunny wouldn’t call her elder by a sedate or common name.
“Yes,” she said, nodding and smiling so brightly it lit up the room. “She’s my maternal grandmother. She lives with us.”
“And you have a brother? Is he younger?”
“More questions? Yes, Tristan’s fifteen. He’s disabled. He was in a car accident with my parents. They were unhurt, but he sustained a brain injury. He lives with us, and my grandmother takes care of him during the day, makes sure he gets to and from his activities, and helps with the homework his online tutor assigns him.”
“So you’re his guardian?”
“Yes.”
“And always will be?”
She looked directly into his eyes and arched an eyebrow. “Yes. Your point?”
“I apologize. It was rude of me to ask. I thought you were much younger, and unencumbered.” What a stupid thing to say, Hazelle. You’re just surprised she’s self-employed, the bread-winner for her household—and seems to know her own mind better than you know yours.
She rolled her eyes. “I can imagine what all you think about me.” Eye rolling was a spanking offense in his domain. Another boundary she breached with utter nonchalance.
He sighed heavily as he turned to her outside his office door. “But you’re unmarried, correct?” he asked, glancing down to verify her ring finger was bare.
Full pink lips curled up like the Cheshire Cat’s, and she chuckled. “Yeah. So?”
“All right then. I have another question.”
“With all these questions you keep asking, I may start charging you for each one.”
“Will you have supper with me?”
Chapter Four
Bunny fiddled with her napkin while Joseph poured her wine. Across the kitchen, the cook, Mrs. Hernandez, bustled around, her cheeks flushed and a big smile on her face. She kept glancing over at the two of them, seated at the table just off the kitchen. Just big enough for four seats, it looked out over the garden and, from the looks of it, also doubled as Mrs. Hernandez’s spot for prep-work, reading the paper, and eating meals with her co-workers.
“Is this all right with you?”
“What? The wine? Anything is fine. I’m not much of a drinker.”
“No, I mean sitting at the kitchen table. You’re fidgeting, and I want you to be comfortable. You had a long day.”
“So did you. Do you normally eat in here?”
“Sometimes. I like to be close to the center of the house, catch up on what’s going on.” He leaned a little closer as he slid her wine glass across the table to her. Her eyes were locked on his, and she startled when the glass slid under her fingertips and his hand rested on hers.
“You don’t prefer one of the dining rooms? I saw several in different sizes.”
He shrugged as he sat back in his chair. “When I’m entertaining clients or business contacts, or when I need quiet.”
“Oh,” she murmured and then sipped from her glass.
“Here you go, sir,” the cook said as she brought to steaming plates to the table and then returned with a basket full of bread and a saucer with butter on it. “I’ll be just next door if you need me.”
“It looks wonderful, Carmen. Thank you.”
Mrs. Hernandez had gone to great lengths from the look of it, preparing them an Italian pasta dish served in a creamy carbonara sauce and topped with thinly sliced grilled chicken breast. Bunny’s mouth watered, and her stomach chose that second to grumble loudly.
All three of them laughed, and Bunny reached up to pat Mrs. Hernandez’s arm. “This looks delicious. I may beg you for the recipe, ma’am.”
The cook gave Joseph a coy look and then, in a stage whisper, said, “Well, all you’ll have to do then is ask Mr. Hazelle. It’s one of his mother’s recipes.”
“Really?”
The cook nodded and then told Joseph to just put the dishes in the soapy water in the sink and she’d see to them in the morning.
Joseph nodded as she left and then turned his mesmerizing gaze on her, as if he was divining all her secrets.
She’d already called Grinnie back and explained the change in her plans, and Grinnie had been full of all kinds of eager questions and curiosity. Bunny didn’t know what she was doing there so she hadn’t had any answers to give her.
“What is that?” she asked, pointing at the tissue-wrapped package on the table at his elbow.
Without looking at it, Joseph laid his hand gently on the object and slid it across the table. Leaving his hand on the tissue, he said, “I may be opening a can of worms by doing this, but I want you to understand.”
“Understand what?”
He opened his mouth to speak but then let out a breath and closed his lips, evidently weighing his words before speaking. She wished that was a talent she was better at, and she waited.
His gaze held hers as he withdrew his hand from the package. “Me.”
“You?” The tissue was cool under her palm, and she felt the lines of a hardback book within. “A book?”
She still hadn’t read the books she’d bought from Violet Tyler. In a moment of bravery, she’d gone to Violet’s bookstore, not realizing the proprietor had been a guest at Joseph’s…whatever it was he was having when she’d last been at Hazelle House. She’d gotten the books home and had promptly hidden them under her mattress, like a pre-teen hiding her diary. And there they’d stayed because she was a coward. What was within the tissue? Coming from a Dom, or whatever he was, it had to be even worse, even closer to the truth of what he was on the inside.
“It’s not a snake, Bunny. I promise.” There was amusement in his voice.
“I’m not much of a reader.” You’re fifty shades of a big ol’ fibber and a coward to boot.
Her inner devil was flapping her elbows like a chicken and going bawk-bawk-bawk when Joseph’s warm hand suddenly slid over hers, startling her.
“Would you read this for me? I’m not asking for anything else.”
“If I do, you’re going to want to show me your chamber of horrors, aren’t you? That’s the next step, right?” Did she want that?
Erupting into laughter, he said, “Mona told me you’d called it that.”
“Well, it seems appropriate, after what happened last time I was in your house.” She’d been in the wrong place at the wrong time and gotten tangled up, literally, with a Dom who had a chase-and-capture fantasy featuring a redhead. He’d set eyes on her and thought she was it. She’d wound up gagged, hog-tied, and screaming for Joseph on the second story landing outside the crowded ballroom.
“Maybe so,” he conceded, lifting his glass in acknowledgment. “I would rather have introduced you to what I do in a less dramatic way. Conrad was as stunned as you, I think.”
“You’ll understand if I wasn’t paying attention to his feelings so much. I was just glad you heard me yell.”
“I think the whole mansion heard you, fiammetta.”
“Why do you call me that?”
Joseph licked his lips. “I’ll tell you…after you’ve read the book.” He settled back in his chair. “Your food is getting
cold. It would be a shame for you to not enjoy Carmen’s cooking while it’s still hot.” He picked up his glass and took another sip before digging into his meal.
Doing the same, she put the first forkful in her mouth and had to close her eyes, chewing slowly. “Mmm.” Divine didn’t even begin to describe the delicacy of the flavors and the textures. “Oh my.”
“It’s good, isn’t it?” he asked, his raspy voice powerful but gentle, and she knew his eyes were on her.
He was referring to the food, but her imagination took his words and extrapolated, fantasies flitting through her mind as her cheeks filled with heat.
She’d been afraid to crack open the books Violet had sold to her, but not because she feared what was hidden behind the locked doors in his mansion. She was afraid of discovering something she couldn’t do without. And always present in her mind was the truth that his life was too different from hers.
Opening her eyes, she fastened her gaze on his hands, holding the heavy stainless steel fork. Poised and so accomplished, so confident of his place in the universe. They weren’t the hands of a man who stayed inside handling papers all day. The veins stood out on the tanned skin of the tops, dark hairs sprinkled lightly across the surface. His thumb slid back and forth along the handle of the fork, and her nipples hardened as she watched the callused digit. She swallowed and the gulping sound was so loud that her cheeks grew even hotter.
He let out a soft breath across the table, and the light hairs on her forearm rose in response to the gentle puff of air. “You’re beautiful with your cheeks filled with color, fiammetta.”
“It’s the wine,” she whispered hoarsely before taking another sip, hating the way she blushed so easily, wishing she could control that embarrassingly obvious lack of control. All they were doing was eating, and her sex-starved mind was conjuring images of him eating her, doing wicked things to her with those hands. Bunny bit the inside of her cheek to distract herself as her pussy responded with a wave of heat.
He set his glass down. “No, Bunny. It’s nerves and fear of the unknown, fear of losing control.”
“I’m perfectly in control,” she quipped, reaching out for her wineglass.
As if demonstrating her lack of control, she bumped it and the wine sloshed onto the white tablecloth. Joseph caught the glass and righted it, but not before the wine splashed on his hand.
His eyes flickered with emotion she couldn’t name, and his lips flattened together as he studied her, perhaps biting the inside of his lip, and at first she thought he was losing patience with her, but then the corner of his lips quirked upward.
“Sorry,” she whispered, pulling her clumsy hands into her lap under the table, unsure of what to do next as he continued to hold the glass. “What?”
As if he was having an internal debate, he glanced at his soaked hand and then gave a tiny shake of his head. He released the glass and then took his time drying his hand on his napkin. “Nothing.”
“No. You were about to say something. What was it?”
He shook his head. “I want you to eat before your food gets cold. I seem to set you on edge tonight.”
“Think so?” she asked then took another bite. She glanced up at him to find him smiling at her, and she grinned back, grateful, as the tension diminished a little.
They settled into the meal, interspersed with conversation about his mother’s cooking, the running of the mansion, and the technology that was noticeably hidden in the main parts of the mansion, and in his own personal suite upstairs.
“I don’t like the distractions from what is important, what is real,” he murmured. “And when I host a gathering, I want my guests to have the same luxury. I appreciate technology as much as the next man, and I’m happy that through it I was able to meet you, but I think it’s too easy to be distracted from the present by it.”
Ignoring the way his mention of her made the butterflies in her stomach take flight again, Bunny nodded. “Tristan gets tired of me asking him to put down his electronics, but I want him engaging in the real world, too. I get it.”
“He’s lucky to have you.”
Bunny shrugged. “He and Grinnie are my family.”
“You don’t have any other relatives?” Astute man that he was, he noted her hesitation and added, “None who you’re close to?”
“No, they’re pretty much it. The rest…” She shrugged and drained her wine glass.
“Master?”
The voice came from the entry, behind Bunny. She recognized the voice as the young woman’s from earlier. She watched Joseph as he looked past her shoulder, his expression once again unreadable. That chick was starting to get on Bunny’s nerves with all her passive-aggressive “Master” talk. Any idiot could see all she was doing was marking her territory for Bunny’s benefit. He wasn’t hers, and couldn’t be hers, so it was a wasted effort.
Her inner devil rolled her eyes.
“Yes, Jade?”
The young woman came to the table and looked at her hands as she said, “I apologize for interrupting…Sir. I thought you would want to know I replied to all those e-mails as you requested.”
Joseph smiled at her. “You thought I would, huh?”
A slight smile crossed her face and then she nodded. “Yes, Sir.”
“Thank you, Jade. That’ll be all. Enjoy your evening.”
“Yes, Sir. I’m sorry, again, for the interruption.” Watching her closely, Bunny noticed when Jade glanced at their plates and the glasses of wine and saw the momentary flicker of a frown on her face before she backed away and walked out of the kitchen.
Bunny’s mind whirled as she pondered the fact she’d been having supper with a man who inspired women to kowtow to him, for Jade was obviously serving him willingly. More willingly than he seemed to want her to. What character trait in him stirred that kind of devotion?
A distant flash of lightning shone through the windowpane. Bunny set the empty wine glass down with a sigh as the tile beneath her feet vibrated with the tremble of thunder. “The storm sounds as though it’s gathering strength. I think it’s time I left.”
He rose as she did. “Thank you for dining with me. It was refreshing.”
“Refreshing? You’re nuts, you know that?”
Somewhere in the back of her mind, her inner devil had a clipboard, recording all the smart-alecky things she said to him, as though keeping tally for when he finally got her over his knee.
He shrugged and grinned. “Maybe so. Let me walk you to that behemoth of a work vehicle you arrived in today.”
“Hey, Betsy is awesome,” she replied as they walked side by side from the kitchen.
Snorting with laughter, he said, “Why am I not surprised you named your vehicle?”
“She was my first major purchase as a self-employed person. Having a bucket truck means I can get jobs I might not otherwise be able to. I’ll be making use of her tomorrow when I come back to work on your satellite dishes. Sorry I couldn’t do it today, but if I see lightning, I don’t leave the ground.” Their steps echoed on the tile as they crossed the corridor to the main entry.
“That’s a relief to hear.” He tapped the top of the tissue-wrapped book she held clutched in her arms with a long finger. “Please read this.”
Conscious of the way he towered over her, she looked up into his pewter gray eyes, wishing she could understand him better. “Why is it important to you?”
Musing for a moment, he finally said, “Because I think if you don’t understand, you’ll move on, not realizing the opportunity you missed.”
“But why is it important to you? I’m obviously not your type.”
He cupped her chin in his hand and smiled. “Ask yourself why brattiness is your reflexive response to me. Is it because you wish to push me away? Or is it maybe because you want someone who can handle you?”
“Handle me?” she asked, her back going ramrod stiff as he simply grinned at her. “In your wildest dreams, you couldn’t handle me, Mr. Hazelle.”
He merely laughed as he opened one of the double doors at the front of the mansion and gestured broadly at her vehicle, parked out front under the grand porte-cochere. “I had it moved to the front door for you, in case it began to rain.”
“Are you always so thoughtful to girls you want to spank?”
“You’re not a girl. You’re a woman,” he said with a devilish grin. “And yes, I am.”
Unable to understand him and his kink, she growled a little at him as she stepped out, and then she shrieked as his big palm landed sharply on her butt cheek.
“You!” Oh, Lord, that stung! But then the heat began to spread. Her inner muscles clenched, and she had the urge to waggle her ass at him, to tempt him to do it again.
He’s right. He brings out the brat in me.
Joseph’s gray eyes, normally so unreadable, were twinkling with mischief. “That wasn’t discipline, little brat, because you’re not mine to discipline—technically.”
“Then what the hell was it?” Besides a total turn-on!
“Fun.” His wolfish grin promised there was more where that came from. “Read the book, fiammetta. If you have any questions, you can call me.”
“The only question I have right now,” she quipped as he followed her down the steps, “is whether I should have you kiss the right cheek or the left one. And I am not a brat!”
Her inner devil was wearing a fireman’s hat and pointing a fire extinguisher at her pants while her inner angel pointed out that they were on fire.
Joseph was obviously keeping his amusement in check as he opened the truck door for her. He offered her his hand, presumably to help her up into the truck, but halted her long enough to kiss her knuckles and gaze into her eyes for several disconcerting seconds. “Yes, you are, fiammetta. See you in the morning.”
“Whatever,” she grumbled after he’d closed the truck door and pointed at her seatbelt. She barely resisted the immature impulse to stick her tongue out at him and drive off without buckling up first.
Bunny and the Beast [Divine Creek Ranch 22] (Siren Publishing Everlasting Classic) Page 4