Simply Irresistible

by Deborah Cooke

  She felt hot, too.

  Maybe it was the bullwhip.

  It was such an ideal accessory that every woman should carry one.

  Cassie’s heels clicked as she strode down the corridor to the meeting and more than one woman gave her a thumbs-up in passing. A couple of the regular guys wolf-whistled after her. Cassie liked how she felt in this outfit, commanding and sexy, too. She knew her smile was more seductive, and that the red lipstick and dark eyeliner worked in a big way. She decided she’d walk the gym floor before her class and maybe muster some more attendance.

  She was last to arrive at the scheduled meeting and wasn’t surprised to find Kyle and Damon already bickering. They’d done it for so long that it was an ingrained habit, and it had never meant anything anyway. Ty was wearing a navy suit and crisp tie, frowning slightly as he reviewed the financial reports for the previous month. Ignoring Kyle and Damon, just like usual. The phone was on the conference table to link in Theo from London.

  “I’m just saying that you could hold up your end a bit better,” Kyle complained. He was sprawled in a chair, one foot braced on the conference table as he balanced on the chair’s back legs. He looked like the quintessential surfer: blond, tanned, and buff. He was dressed, as usual, in jeans that were snug in all the right places and a tight T-shirt that could have been a second skin. His hair was a hundred shades of gold and tousled, his eyes a sparkling blue, and he looked good enough to eat. Kyle had that perfect blend of confidence and style that made him draw women like bees to honey, and he knew it. He also used it. Cassie had never met anyone with a worse case of commitment disease. Despite his cockiness, there was something playful about Kyle that made him impossible to dislike.

  He certainly could make Cassie—and pretty much any woman alive—laugh.

  Damon rolled his eyes. A little shorter than Kyle, he spent a lot of time at the gym, too. But Damon had always been the quiet powerhouse. He was intense and brilliant, and a genius with design. He was also a dark horse, the one who could unexpectedly go the distance, and often surprised Kyle when they competed in the gym. “You’re the one who came up with the idea of the club,” Damon complained. “You’re the one who said it had to be monitored by a discerning individual like yourself. So, quit bitching about the job you made for yourself.”

  “All I’m saying is that you could work a Friday night once in a while,” Kyle argued.

  “Would the world end if you two stopped arguing like old women?” Cassie asked, pulling out a chair for herself. She stood behind it for a moment, wanting Ty to have the full view. “Maybe we should give it a try, just to see.”

  “Old women?” Kyle said, apparently insulted.

  Damon looked her up and down, then winked.

  Ty only flicked her the barest glance of acknowledgment.

  So much for the alluring power of latex.

  “Maybe elderly sisters,” Cassie said and Kyle shuddered.

  “I don’t think we’re that bad,” he said, but Cassie was watching Ty.

  She saw him blink, then look at her again. She smiled at his astonishment and turned in place, brandishing her whip. “Like it?”

  Whatever he was thinking, he hid it well.

  And he returned to the financials. “Not your usual look.”

  “But perfect for the class I’m teaching today. ‘Getting Naughty Together 101.’”

  “Or knotty,” Kyle joked.

  That got Ty’s attention. “You are serious about the classes, then.”

  Kyle grinned. “It’s not funny how popular they are.” He leaned over and pointed to the line item. “There.”

  Ty frowned. “There are that many people, who are already members, who are prepared to pay a premium to attend BDSM classes?”

  “Who would have thunk it?” Kyle asked.

  “You did,” Damon reminded him and Kyle grinned.

  “Finger on the pulse of the nation, that’s me.”

  “Maybe women’s pulses,” Cassie noted.

  “Which other ones matter?” Kyle was unrepentant. “I think you all owe me a bonus for this plan. We’ve got at least one additional session every day of the week, all of them booked out months in advance.”

  Ty raised a hand in silent demand.

  “Three months sold in advance.” Cassie plucked a copy of the flyer listing the new classes off the shelf of promotional materials and dropped it into Ty’s hand. All three of them watched him read it and Cassie knew she wasn’t the only one who felt his surprise.

  She’d told him about it.

  Sometimes he was a little too much of a straight arrow. Her gaze caught Kyle’s and she knew that Kyle was going to pull Ty’s chain. She kept her expression neutral and watched.

  “Ties that Bind, Spanking Pink, Whip It Good, In the Dark, Pain and Pleasure 101…” Ty frowned. “All under the Safe Erotic Play programming, for adults over 18.” He put down the flyer and looked at Cassie. “And people pay for this.”

  Kyle leaned forward. “You were the one who said we needed new members and new sources of revenue.”

  Ty nodded in concession. “Well, yeah, our original demographic is getting older, thus less concerned with fitness, drinking less alcohol in the bar…”

  “Marriage and babies,” Cassie said.

  “These classes, though, have kicked things up a notch,” Kyle continued. “There’s a hum out there that I like a lot. It works for me.”

  “It’s bringing in new members,” Damon noted, pointing out the increase between months to Ty. “We’re getting a reputation.”

  “I bet,” Ty murmured. He tapped a line item. “What kind of private instruction is this?” He gave Kyle a look that should have been quelling.

  Here it went.

  Kyle grinned and ran an admiring hand over his own chest. “The very best kind.”

  “We’ve always offered it,” Cassie said. “Some people like the one-on-one.”

  “But we didn’t offer sex ed classes,” Ty noted. “How far does your instruction go?”

  “Officially, it’s a technique class with a more personal format,” Kyle said. “But hey, things happen.”

  Ty frowned. “You don’t…”

  “Oh yeah, I do, and very well, too.”

  Ty was visibly outraged. “But you can’t do that. It’s not legal.”

  “Oh, come on,” Cassie argued. “It’s not any different than Kyle going to Mrs. Markland’s condo to help her with her yoga poses and maybe staying a little longer to improve her other moves.”

  Ty blinked. “You don’t.”

  “Of course, I do.” Kyle shrugged. “Sometimes. When the temptation is right.”

  “You’re not a gigolo. You’re a bodybuilding instructor.”

  “Even if he is a man slut,” Damon noted.

  Kyle wadded up a sheet of paper and threw it at him. “It kind of comes with the territory,” he said to Ty. He gestured in the direction of the gym. “Especially our territory. All those hot, muscled bodies. All that human perfection, sweating and stretching, and noticing. This whole place is built on the power of eye candy. That’s our niche. Gorgeous specimens of humanity in every direction. That’s why people come to F5. Sex is the natural and inevitable result.” He sat back and grinned. “What’s not to love about it?”

  “No. We’re using the sizzle to sell the steak,” Ty argued. “Beautiful bodies convince people to join gyms like ours…”

  It was Damon who interrupted him. “And what’s wrong with a bite of steak once in a while? It happens.”

  “Right on,” Kyle agreed.

  Ty put down his pen. “This is a gym, not a brothel!”

  “A brothel?” Cassie shook her head. “How Victorian. Are you going to need your smelling salts?”

  “It’s not a monastery, either,” Kyle said, then spoke very slowly. “People have sex, Ty. People have sex with people they meet at the gym. Even at our gym. Especially at our gym. I’m sorry to break this to you, but it’s true.”

 
Ty rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I know that.”

  “Read about it online?” Kyle taunted, his eyes twinkling.

  “My love life isn’t under discussion here.”

  “Maybe the monastery’s upstairs,” Damon teased.

  “There’s nothing wrong with having a small dry spell,” Ty said.

  “I’ve heard about that,” Kyle said. “The Sahara has that problem.”

  “The Gobi,” Damon added and they laughed together.

  “Not that dry,” Ty said easily. “Just a couple of months.”

  “A lifetime,” Kyle said. “Want help?”

  “No. Thanks.” Ty frowned. “Now about this so-called private instruction…”

  “Take it easy,” Kyle said. “The private classes are just that. No sex. What happens afterward, if anything happens, isn’t anyone’s business.”

  “It’s not a good idea to muddy the line between professional and personal,” Ty insisted.

  “I was just seeing what you’d believe.” Kyle grinned and Ty shook his head.

  “I never know how far you’ll go.”

  “It is part of my charm,” Kyle replied easily. “And it’s fun to see you get all pissed off.” He grinned, unrepentant, and Ty fixed him with a look. “Maybe once it rains, you’ll be more philosophical.”

  “Don’t hold your breath.”

  “Aren’t we in better shape than before?” Cassie asked, changing the subject and taking the seat beside Ty.

  “I like that we have new members,” he acknowledged. “Anything else they have in common?”

  “They’re joining for the classes,” Damon said. “And a lot of them come in couples.”

  “Really?” Ty said. “That’s a new demographic for us.”

  “The couples’ classes book out first and fast,” Cassie supplied. “Despite Kyle’s bragging. I think there’s interest in revitalizing their sexual relationship.” She quickly told the guys about two couples who had recently joined.

  “Whose idea was it? His or hers?” Ty asked, hitting the nail on the head.

  “Hers,” Cassie said. “So, we want to target older women in established relationships. The materials will have to be elegant…”

  “All our materials are elegant, Cassie,” Ty said. “It’s what you do, and what distinguishes F5 in the market.”

  She found herself ridiculously pleased, even though he didn’t look at her, and spoke as if it were just a fact. “Spice in the bedroom, or relighting the spark, or rediscovering the passion. Something like that. The idea is that they’re finding the passion that’s dropped by the wayside in the day-to-day grind of twenty or thirty years, or maybe just with the arrival of kids.”

  “Advertising uptown, where the established neighborhoods are,” Damon contributed.

  “Maybe flyers for marriage counselors and therapists,” Cassie suggested.

  “That’s good,” Kyle said. “I like it.”

  “Good starts,” Damon said, counting off the elements their action plan on his fingers. “Cost and pricing review, courses for couples. Anything else we can do to diversify our client base?”

  “I’ll put some flyers at the Museum of Sex, if they’ll have them,” Cassie said.

  “Advertise the BDSM classes in bookstores,” Ty suggested. They all turned to look at him in surprise. He shrugged. “Erotic romance is a popular genre,” he continued. “You can’t predict what kind of women are reading it—the demographic is probably all over the place—but one place you’ll find them is in that section of the bookstore, whether bricks-and-mortar or online.” He pursed his lips. “Maybe libraries, too. Subway trains.”

  They stared at him for a full minute before Kyle started to laugh. “That’s completely brilliant. Trust you to quietly come up with such a great plan.”

  “The bookstore near my office has a huge section devoted to it.” He looked discomfited, which was interesting.

  Ty never looked discomfited.

  “How would you know?” Cassie asked, her tone teasing. “Don’t you read mysteries?”

  He smiled slowly. “Sure, but all the women were in that one aisle. I went over to look.”

  “The old strategy still works,” Kyle said.

  Ty grinned.

  “I’m a heterosexual man,” Damon and Kyle sang in unison, fist-bumping each other, then Ty.

  “Thank God,” Kyle said, wiping his brow with relief. “I was afraid you’d gone celibate on us, Ty.”

  “Not in this lifetime,” Ty said with conviction.

  The phone rang then. Damon tapped it to answer and take the call to the speaker.

  “I hear laughter,” Theo said. “What did I miss?”

  “Everything!” Kyle roared. “We’re shocking Ty.”

  “Is that easier than it used to be?”

  “You gotta get back on this side of the pond,” Damon complained. “What are you doing over there?”

  “Exploring options, of course,” Theo said smoothly.

  “This is my kind of guy,” Kyle said.

  “What happened to being a heterosexual man?” Ty asked, and they laughed again.

  “We need some of your mojo back in the club,” Kyle said to Theo. “Come on home. I’ll be sure you get an awesome welcome.”

  Theo chuckled. “All in good time. Come on, let’s get to it.”

  “Financial review,” Ty said. “Things are looking good, but we have some actionable items…” He looked as if he were focused on business, but Cassie knew Tyler better than that. She’d bet there was a specific reason he’d gone into that section of the bookstore.

  A specific woman.

  It was only human nature to want to know more.

  Chapter Three

  “So?” Jade demanded, appearing suddenly on the other side of the shelf in front of Amy. “What did you think?”

  “I liked this one,” Amy said, stalling for time. She waved the dark erotic romance.

  “I knew you would. What about the other one? The new one?”

  “Really?” Amy didn’t want to disappoint her best advisor.

  “Really. Hit me with your honest assessment.” Jade leaned over the bookshelves and dropped her voice to a whisper. “Come on. I can take it.”

  “I didn’t think it was hot enough.”

  “Really?” Jade squeaked. “How could it have been better?”

  “Well, what if he’d fulfilled her fantasy instead of exploring his own?” When Jade came around the shelves, Amy lowered her voice and outlined how she thought the book should have ended. To her surprise, the other woman barely took a breath as she described a different plotline, but her hand gripped Amy’s arm tighter and tighter.

  “Oh. My. God. You’re right. That would have been awesome,” Jade agreed. “It would have been so much better. You’re so right.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Why don’t you write a book?”

  “Me?” Amy was startled.

  “Sure. All sorts of people are publishing their books digitally and some of them make a lot of money. I think you’d be good at it. You know the market, after all.” Jade grinned. “And I want to read the book you just described. Write it!”

  Amy frowned as Jade continued to enthuse. As much as she liked the idea of making extra money—who didn’t?—she was sure that these authors must have experience in doing what they wrote about.

  While she, um, didn’t.

  Wouldn’t it show in the writing? They did say that you should write what you know. What Amy knew about erotic exploration based on personal experience would fit in a thimble. She’d just read about a lot of it, and that couldn’t be considered the same.

  She made her excuses to Jade and actually forgot to buy another book because she was so busy thinking. It was an idea that didn’t leave her alone.

  Could she write a book?

  Could she write a hot, steamy romance that made women like Jade part with their money to read it?

  She used to write in high school, and she’d
loved her English composition classes. Her dad had let her read whatever she wanted whenever she wanted, including a lot of old-school erotica in his collection. It wasn’t an accident that she could quote Anaïs Nin to Ty. She’d planned to take English Lit at college, well, before everything changed.

  What if she could write a book?

  “And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.”

  Thank you, Anaïs Nin.

  Amy would try.

  * * *

  Any possibility of losing her nerve died a quick death when Amy arrived home to find the roof leaking.

  Again.

  Fitzwilliam was complaining mightily about the empty state of his food bowl, even though he twined around her ankles with an enthusiasm at her return that couldn’t just be about tuna. She hung up her coat in the bathroom and put her wet loafers on the radiator, then fed him. Then she climbed the stairs with some more buckets and pails, pausing to knock on her tenants’ door on the second floor so that Mrs. Petrovsky didn’t think the house was being invaded.

  “Just me, Mrs. P,” she called. “Checking the attic.”

  She didn’t wait for an answer, even though she heard the rustle of Mrs. P. looking through the peephole. Her daughter, Lisa, must not be home yet. Amy and Lisa had gone to high school together. Lisa and her mom had moved into the second-floor apartment Amy created in the house after the death of Amy’s dad.

  There was one finished room in the attic, at the front of the house, then the back lower part of the attic was unfinished. Amy checked the plastic sheets draped over everything in the finished room, confirming that all her mother’s clothes were protected. The leaking, so far, had been in the unfinished part, which was a relief. She walked on the rafters with practiced ease to put buckets and tubs in strategic locations.

  One bucket that had already been in place was full, which was a bad sign. That leak was getting worse. Amy switched out the bucket for another one, then lugged the full one down to the kitchen. She opened the back door and dumped it out, then made a note to check that bucket again before she went to bed.

  With a sigh, she dug through the contractor’s repair estimates that she kept carefully filed in one drawer of the kitchen. The house was due for a lot of maintenance. Nothing much had been done in recent years, what with her parents being sick. Money had been tight and attention had been elsewhere. Now Amy wished she’d been a little more on top of things. It was sobering to go through the estimates and realize just how much it would cost to set everything to rights in her little corner of paradise.