They went on a short walk around the condo lot, and then she watched the lazy dog collapse onto her bed as if she’d just hiked Mount Everest. Minutes later, after Kate had packed her lunch, Pixie let out a long, satisfied snore. She could always count on that dog to make her smile.
She glanced at her phone, sitting innocently on the counter. Feeling more confident now, she grabbed it to text Banner. Her fingers hovered over the keys as she thought through what to write.
It was probably best to keep things light.
Are you awake yet? I feel half-dead and now I have to drag my tired ass to work. LOL. How are you?
Instead of waiting for a response, she forced herself to put it out of her mind and left for work. Just before she started the car, her text alert dinged.
She looked at the contact. Damn, he was fast.
I’m good. I’m sorry I kept you up late though. You didn’t say you had to work today. Give me the address and I’ll bring you some coffee and lunch.
She smiled, and her stomach fluttered. Sweet man. But showing up at the clinic was a bad idea. Not only would her coworkers get nosy, but she was very careful about confidentiality and keeping her personal life separate from her clients.
But, oh the things he might do to her with the office door closed.
Thanks, but that sort of thing isn’t allowed there. Glad you’re feeling well. Have a great day!
It felt like a brush-off, but she was already running late. At lunch she’d open the window of communication again. Maybe she’d invite him shopping. The thought made her laugh. She pictured him holding her purse as she tried on clothes. Would he sulk like most men? Something told her he was secure enough in his masculinity to hold a purse. And he had every reason to be.
Chuckling, she started the car. Hopefully, the day would go by fast and with minimal interruptions from her overactive libido, despite the reminders of last night creeping into her head. Already, she felt as though she’d been marked, as if she had BANNER’S FUCK TOY stamped in big letters across her forehead. If only they wanted the same things from a relationship . . . but they didn’t, and no amount of hot sex or wishful thinking was going to fix that.
Chapter 6
“Was the sex really that good?” Ambrose grinned, and Banner flicked pool water in his face. His friend swam out of range and floated up onto his back. The beer-logo swim shorts Ambrose wore looked trashy in the tastefully decorated indoor pool area. How the guy had made a mint as a shipping magnate was still a mystery. He cleaned up okay, but Banner could still see the roughness in his manners, even when he was in his suit and tie disguise.
With his dry hand, Banner hit the lock button on his phone and tossed it onto his towel before Ambrose destroyed yet another of his phones with his shenanigans.
“I was checking on Rook.”
“Sure you were. I recognize that expression.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Ambrose smirked. “You’ve got it bad.”
“Fuck off.” There was no point in denying it. He barely knew the girl¸ and he was angsting over her more than he had right to. Going into their arrangement, he’d known it wasn’t going to turn into anything long term, but after just one day together, he had the most idiotic crush on her.
Ambrose swept his arms across the water, the heavy black Roman numeral tattoos still looking as new and crisp as the Norse tats on Banner’s forearms. The shop Konstantin had picked for them all to use years ago had been a good choice.
Doing a few laps helped Banner burn off some nervous energy. When he was done, he treaded water in the deep end.
“Now, if you’d tell me what you did with her, I could give you a more informed idea about why she’s not returning your texts.” His friend paused, and his gaze sharpened. “You haven’t sent any more texts, right?”
“I’m not telling you anything, perv. And no, I haven’t.”
“Good man. You have to leave the ball in her court now, otherwise you look desperate and creepy.” Leave it to Ambrose to be a smug bastard about women, as though his own love life was healthy and thriving.
“I know that, jerkoff.”
“I don’t think you really know how this works, Banner. When was the last time you wanted a girl and she didn’t jump up and down and clap her hands? You need advice from your wingman to get through this.”
Banner sighed. “Konstantin would know what to do.”
“Well, he’s visiting his babushka, so your sorry ass is stuck with me.”
“I know he won’t be back from Russia for a while, but the next time he goes we have to make sure he gets a fucking Facebook account first. He doesn’t check his e-mail.” Banner swam to the edge of the pool and hoisted himself out. “Although, how exactly would either of you give me advice on this, anyway? It’s not like you’ve had . . .” He grabbed a towel and scrubbed the water from his hair. There was no way to finish that sentence that didn’t sound awkward and pathetic.
“It’s not like I’ve had, what? A girl blow me off? Try having your sub abandon you after six years.”
“Jeez. Do you need a tissue, Ambrose? Shae left you almost two years ago. You don’t get to play that card every time I have relationship issues.” Sometimes it seemed like Ambrose was just using Shae as an excuse to not get involved in anything serious again. Sleeping with Banner’s exes amused him, but he didn’t seem to be ready for more. “I was there for you through that, but you need to get counseling or something if you’re still messed up about it. I have more to complain about at this point. My last few relationships never even got to the point of a collar.”
Ambrose snorted. “Maybe your dick is defective.”
“Fuck you.”
“I think it’s better if we just stay friends. Your defective dick might ruin things between us.”
Banner whipped a pool noodle at him, and Ambrose ducked, laughing. What kind of millionaire trashed up their indoor oasis with pool noodles? Ambrose, that’s who.
As Ambrose got out of the pool, Banner sat in one of the rattan chairs and opened a soda.
“Kate called me Master. Twice.”
The levity drained from the room. Ambrose paused in his toweling, and his brows shot upward. “Seriously? That’s an interesting turn of events.”
“Yeah.” Banner shifted in his seat, replaying both instances in his mind. If it had been a regular situation, Kate’s reactions to him would have been very promising. Instead, she didn’t want him, and the lost opportunity had been making him grouchy for days. He’d tried fishing for information from his friend Chris, since his wife was Kate’s best friend, but he didn’t know anything. “It wasn’t something I asked her to do. It was just a knee-jerk thing for her, I think, but it’s fucking with my head.”
“You connected, obviously. The spark and the dynamic were there?”
“It was wild. If she wasn’t new and only interested in experimenting I’d be on her doorstep, trying to convince her to give me a real shot. But that’s not what we agreed to.” He leaned back in the chair, the familiar creak of the rattan annoying him today. “I didn’t mean to sleep with her, but I’m only sorry that she thought it was a mistake.”
“Either you freaked her out, or she freaked herself out later.”
“Who knows? She’s not talking to me.”
Ambrose winced. “That face. People write entire country albums about the look you have on your face right now. Did she steal your dog, your horse, and your pickup?”
“If she did, I’d have a legit reason to stay away from her.” Banner took a swig of his soda, wishing it were beer.
Which would be worse—if she showed up next Saturday, like they’d agreed on, or if she didn’t? Maybe the chemistry was a onetime thing. Maybe the giddy feeling he’d gotten when she’d sat on his lap to watch the movie, and the intelligence and humor he’d seen in her while they talked were all just about him being lonely and deluding himself. He barely knew her, really. Becoming infatuated with her now wasn’t
very smart. “Let’s go get me drunk.”
“No drunk dialing her. Deal?”
He walked to the pool’s edge and picked up his phone. Instinctively he checked it, then held it out to Ambrose. “Yeah, you’d better hang on to this.”
His friend shook his head. “Hopeless.”
***
Banner rang the buzzer at his mother’s sprawling modern house, even though he knew the formality annoyed her. It had never been his home. When he was a kid, they’d lived in a regular place in the middle of town.
His dad had been a bit of a workaholic, trying to give them a good life. He wasn’t home long enough to fix anything or mow the lawn, so it’d looked out of place in their tidy neighborhood. He had learned how to do that stuff from Victor, the old man who lived next door. He’d tried to fill in as the man of the house from the time he’d hit middle school. It wasn’t until he was old enough to learn the family business that Banner had developed a relationship with his father, and that ended almost as soon as it started.
Not long after his father had died, Banner had made his first few million and bought the family this house. He’d thought his mother deserved to have nice things after so many years, but more importantly it got her out of the house that had belonged to the man she’d worshipped, who’d been fond of her but never really had time to return her devotion. The indifferent way his father had treated his mother was the hardest part of forgiving him.
The door was answered promptly by Shannon, his mother’s caregiver. The pretty girl barely had the chance to smile in greeting before Rook skidded past her, barreling into Banner’s chest. Banner grabbed his little brother in a headlock and gave him an obligatory noogie.
“Stop!”
Banner did, but then threw him over his shoulder and headed for the great room.
“I’m too old for this, Banner. Put me down.”
“Suddenly, this is too undignified for someone your age?”
“I’m fourteen, not six.”
It was difficult not to point out that Rook was about the size Banner had been at eight or nine. Rook was built more like their father, small and thin, whereas Banner had taken after their mom’s brothers.
The great room was empty and spotless, other than a collection of Rook’s art supplies and his easel by the bay window. He put the boy down near his workstation and studied the grays and blacks of the bleak winter forest the paper held. Beautiful, in a quiet, sad way. His use of light and shadow were exceptional.
“You said charcoal, right?” Banner fished in his satchel and handed over the box.
“Thanks! I was on the verge of having to switch to pastels.”
Banner considered how to best frame the work when it was finished so they could hang it in the house or at his office. Hopefully, Rook was interested in selling it. He was more than good enough to sell his stuff, but he never wanted to show it to anyone. “That might have ruined your depressing motif.”
“I know, but Meadow refused to let me use her eyeliner, so the only other thing I could think of was dirt.”
“You’d have to go outside for that.”
“Yup. I told you I was desperate.”
Banner laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. “Well, I’m glad I could help, then. Has Mom been up today?”
Rook’s face fell. “No. Shannon and I got her to wake up, but she’s still in bed and staring off into space, mostly.”
“Not for you to fix.” He hugged Rook and didn’t let him go until he pulled away. “Don’t forget I’m bringing you to the art show downtown on Thursday. Where’s Meadow?”
“Yeah, I won’t forget. I have my clothes picked out already.” Rook gave a shy laugh, then started to open the box of charcoals. “Meadow is directing the guys who are working on winterizing the grounds.”
“How’s Dylan?”
Rook’s expression brightened. “He’s fine. I texted him earlier. He’s playing Minecraft right now, but he’s coming over later.”
“If you ever have any questions . . .” Banner gave him a pointed look. For a moment Rook looked at him blankly. Then he realized what he meant.
“Oh jeez. Shut up!” Rook shoved him. “What do you know about gay sex? Unless there’s something you’re not telling me?”
“You can keep asking, but the answer is still no. Sadly, I’m straight.”
“So you can tell me what? What to do with a woman? Like I care. Besides, I already know everything. I’m not a child, and we have the fucking internet.”
“Language, sir. There’s no reason to cuss.” The internet? Not good enough. He’d have to talk to him about it soon.
Rook rolled his eyes and waved him off.
Banner walked down the hall, noting the gleaming surfaces and general tidiness. Meadow was very strict about the house looking perfect, and Banner suspected that she was worried their mother would become her old self again one day and be critical of how her daughter had been keeping things.
Out of habit, he checked his phone. The only message was from Ambrose, urging him to drop by later. Neither of them was used to Konstanin, who was the chronic texter, being away for so long. He’d almost given up on hearing from Kate. Either she’d show up this weekend or she wouldn’t—checking his phone wasn’t going to make a difference.
Shannon met him partway, carrying a tray of food that looked like it had been shuffled around but not really eaten.
“She’s awake?”
“Yes. She’s been up awhile, but she’s not in the mood for company. You know how it is.”
“And not eating?”
Shannon shrugged. “I do what I can.”
Banner smiled at her. “I know you do. You treat her the way I would if I could be here all the time. Actually, you’re probably more patient.”
The caregiver chuckled and flashed a dimple. Charming girl, but safely married. “Compared to my sons, this is a cakewalk.” She nodded a good-bye and headed toward the kitchen.
Desiree Jennings’s door stood open, although she probably wouldn’t invite him in, if he gave her the choice.
“Mom, are you awake?”
She lay in bed, looking weak and frail. “I’m not feeling well today, Banner. Can we visit tomorrow instead?”
He glanced across the room and was unsurprised to find the shrine to her husband still intact. A candle burned before it as though the light could summon him back. No counselor had succeeded in convincing her to move on with her life, and even the love and care of Banner and his siblings hadn’t drawn her back into the world of the living.
Undeterred, Banner pulled back the curtains and light flooded the room, despite the overcast day. “You need to get out of bed for a while, or you’ll get bedsores again, remember? And the physiotherapist has said you need to get more exercise or your legs won’t get any stronger.”
“I can walk just fine for what I do. I was never a person for sports. What does she expect me to do? Take up tennis?”
“You’re rich now. Isn’t that what rich women do?”
“I’m not rich. You are.” She patted his arm when he sat on the edge of the bed. “You’re just kind enough to take care of us.”
“Up, up, up!” Gently, he helped her swing her legs over the side of the bed, thankful that she still slept near the edge to leave room for his father, if only because it made it easier to help her get to her feet. “If you don’t get moving you’re going to need a walker soon.”
“I don’t have anywhere I want to go, so what difference does it make if I need a walker?” She allowed him to haul her up, the perpetual tracksuit she wore mostly disguising how painfully thin she was. Dark circles ringed her eyes, and she blinked rapidly as a ray of light from a window reached her.
The usual frustration nagged at him. If someone wanted to die, how did you make them live?
“Did you go to Rook’s parent-teacher meeting yesterday?”
“No. I wasn’t well.” She clung to his arm until she had steadied herself, then let go and turned
away.
“Mom, you know I had to work late. That’s the only reason I asked you to go.”
“He gets excellent grades. Why go? I would have had to shower and dress up.” She sighed as though the prospect of attending to her personal hygiene was exhausting.
“If we don’t go it looks like no one cares about him. You went to every single one of mine and Meadow’s. Why not Rook’s?”
She shuffled toward the master bath. “I’m old now. There are events in a person’s life that make them question meaningless social conventions. I don’t host dinner parties or send people birthday cards anymore either. It doesn’t make me a bad person.”
Once she reached the bathroom, Desiree shut the door between them and turned on the fan, most likely to show she wasn’t interested in his lecture.
He sighed. So much for patience. He shouldn’t have gone in grumping at her—it just made her shut down. Sometimes it was hard to take a step back and be the mature one, especially when it came to taking care of a parent.
Banner grabbed the picture he’d given her for Christmas off the dresser. In the photo, he, Meadow, and Rook smiled at the camera as though they were a normal, happy family. He brushed a thumb over Rook’s smiling face and put the picture in the middle of Desiree’s shrine to their dead father.
Maybe the next time she prayed to be with him, she’d remember she had three children who weren’t ready to be orphans.
Chapter 7
She stared at the monstrous door, working up the courage to knock. Why was this so difficult? For some reason, this was harder than the first time. At least then he hadn’t seen her naked, seen every vulnerable part of her. He hadn’t heard her beg, and scream, and call him Master.
Ugh. She was still embarrassed about that. Until yesterday she hadn’t even been able to text him.
All week she’d talked herself through how this session would go. She’d stay in control, making sure not to go as far. She should probably even keep her clothes on.
Finding Master Right Page 10