The Bondage Club

by Alexandrea Weis

  Racing out of the garage, he muttered, “If anything has happened to her, I’ll never forgive myself.”

  * * *

  Hunter had not even closed the glass doors that marked the front entrance to the offices of Donovan Books when he viewed Julia’s silver and white art deco desk. His long legs strode across the pearl gray and silver reception area that he had spent a small fortune on during a much regretted renovation until he stood glaring into Julia’s beady blue eyes. The round, middle-aged receptionist with the perky personality and affinity for cats stared at Hunter, appearing completely confounded by the look on his face.

  “Are you all right, Mr. Hunter? You look like crap.”

  “Is she here yet?” Hunter blurted out.

  “Who?” Julia came back, furrowing her wrinkled brow.

  “Cary Anderson, the new girl. Did she come in yet?”

  Julia nodded. “A few minutes ago.” She picked up a paper cup of coffee on her desk with the familiar green and white logo. “She got Starbucks for me. Is there a problem?”

  Hunter shook his head, letting out a relieved breath. “No, it’s…never mind.”

  He left his receptionist and went to the gray painted door to the stairwell, not wanting to wait for the old, slow elevator that serviced the building. Taking the steps two at a time he climbed to the third floor and flung open the plain wooden door that led to the hallway outside of his office. The pounding in his head was made worse by his jaunt up the steps, and when he finally stood before his open office door, he eagerly peered inside. But Cary was nowhere to be seen.

  Rushing to his desk, he slammed his briefcase down on top of the ever-present pile of manuscripts and cursed.

  “What’s your problem?” a high-pitched voice asked behind him.

  When he whirled around, Cary was standing in the office doorway with a tall Starbuck’s coffee cup in her hand.

  “How in the hell did you get home last night?” He barreled across the room to her side. “You want to explain what you were doing traipsing around downtown Atlanta in the middle of the night?”

  Cary’s deep chocolate eyes twinkled. She did not say a word, but turned to the office door and quietly shut it. Then, she walked over to her desk and put down her cup of coffee.

  “I took a cab from your place to GSU and got my car. I can assure you, at no time during the evening was I ‘traipsing around downtown Atlanta.’”

  “You could have left me a note or something. When I found my car in the garage, I about had a heart attack worrying that you—” He shut his mouth, afraid to go on.

  She folded her arms over her pretty pink blouse. “Perhaps we should talk about last night. Get it out of the way so we can get back to work.”

  Hunter momentarily lost his capacity for speech. He didn’t know what to say or how to say it without sounding like an idiot.

  “I think what happened last night was the vodka and not you,” she assured him.

  A trickle of relief snaked through him. “Yeah, I was rather lit. It was a stupid thing to do. I apologize and completely understand if you don’t want to work here anymore.”

  Her girlish laughter wafted about the office. “I’m not going to quit over a kiss, Hunter. It’s not like we slept together. It was just a kiss.” She went around her desk.

  Perhaps he had underestimated her desire. He had sworn that she had kissed him back, but maybe he had been too drunk to discern what was real and what was imagination. He feigned a weak smile.

  “You’re right, it was a silly mistake. I’m glad you’re not upset.”

  “It’s already forgotten, Hunter.”

  Her words jarred him like a tow truck hitting a golf cart. He had always prized himself on his kissing prowess. Women had complimented his skill in the past, and he hoped the alcohol had not impaired his ability. Questions about how good a kiss it had been began to plague him. Perhaps he wasn’t up to his usual level of performance. Maybe he needed to reassure her that he was a really good kisser. What in the hell am I thinking?

  He took a seat behind his desk and flipped open his laptop. While he waited for the computer to warm up, he purposefully kept his eyes from her pink top that clung to her small breasts. The room began to stir with the smell of coffee mixed with her floral perfume. Hunter’s hands began to sweat and his heart raced a little faster as he became acutely aware of her presence. The way she had felt against him during their kiss haunted him. Unable to stand the antsy sensation in his legs, he stood from his desk.

  “I think I’ll get some coffee,” he uttered and bolted for the office door.

  “Julia just made a fresh pot in the employee’s lounge,” she told him.

  Hunter placed his hand on the doorknob. “Thanks,” he got out before he shoved the door open and entered the hall.

  He was halfway to the employee’s lounge on the second floor when his heartbeat finally slowed down. Gulping in a few breaths of air, he rounded the doorway to the lounge and the smell of freshly brewed coffee hit his nose.

  The rectangular lounge housed a full service kitchen with a working gas stove, microwave, refrigerator, sink, and coffeemaker on the white Formica countertop. Painted a pale shade of green with framed pictures of tropical getaways on the walls, the room calmed Hunter’s frazzled nerves.

  “I must be more hung over than I thought,” he remarked as he stretched for the coffee pot.

  After filling a mug with the company’s gold star logo imprinted on it, Hunter leaned against the counter and took several sips from his coffee until that uneasy feeling left his body. Before heading back to his office, he refilled his mug. Now he was assured he would be better able to handle another encounter with Cary.

  Taking the elevator from the second floor, he slowly neared his open office door and paused when he heard a man’s deep voice coming from inside.

  “Say yes,” the familiar voice urged. “It’s a really hot ticket in town. I promise you will enjoy it. I’ll take you to dinner before at this little Italian place I know.”

  When Hunter stepped into his office, all his efforts to calm his anxiety went out the window when he saw Chris sitting on Cary’s desk, leering down at her.

  “What are you doing here?” Hunter growled from the doorway.

  Chris turned to him. “Ah, there you are.” He stood and wiped his hand over the trousers of his fitted black suit. “I came to get you.”

  Hunter scowled at him. “Get me for what?”

  “Breakfast. We have a meeting with my client and yours, Scott Tursdale. We’re going to talk to him about the PR tour for his upcoming book.” Hunter gave him a blank stare. “You set this up three weeks ago.”

  Hunter had been so distracted by his night with Cary that all thoughts of business had been completely swept from his mind. “Yeah, I remember.” He went over to his desk, invigorated at the opportunity to get out of the office for a few hours. As he placed his mug of coffee on his desk, he spied Chris still smiling at a blushing Cary.

  Picking up a pad of paper and a pen, Hunter tossed the items into his briefcase. He shut the briefcase and stepped over to his brother’s side.

  “Ready?”

  Chris gaped at him as if he were insane. “What in the hell is wrong with you?”

  “Nothing is wrong. Why?”

  “You look like shit.” Chris rolled his eyes. “Let me guess, you didn’t get this one’s name either. Jesus, Hunter.” With one last glance to Cary, Chris went to the office door.

  Hunter turned to her. “I’ll be back in a while.”

  She smiled, appearing amused. “I’ll be here.”

  As he walked from the office, he could feel Cary’s eyes on him. The sensation was disturbing and yet…exciting. Perhaps he had been wrong about their kiss and she had been turned on. Maybe Cary Anderson was a woman who found the thrill of the chase a lot more appealing than the climax of the hunt. After all, Hunter reasoned, most women liked the game; it was the men who were only interested in the prize.

 
; * * *

  Breakfast with the science fiction writer who was building a following among tech geeks was at a downtown coffee house. The short man with the unibrow and chubby cheeks, who spoke with an annoying nasal whine, promised to commit to a four week publicity tour to promote his upcoming book release, and after several minutes of fiery refusal, finally agreed to three television appearances on some heavily viewed syndicated morning shows. Despite Scott Tursdale’s repeated reference to his deep-seated stage fright, the author had relented and done exactly what Chris had wanted. After forty-five minutes in the dingy, diner-like coffeehouse with its vast collection of decorative mugs cluttering the walls, Chris declared he had to hurry to another appointment. Hunter paid the tab for the coffee and assorted breakfast pastries, encouraged his author to get back to his final edits, and then rushed with Chris out the door.

  On the drive back to the office in Chris’s black Land Rover, the effects of Hunter’s hangover were leveling off after putting some food in his stomach and downing two more cups of strong coffee. With the office just ahead, Hunter’s apprehension about being alone with Cary began to consume him.

  “Before I drop you off, I want to talk to you about the new girl, Cary,” Chris said as the car slowed for a red light.

  Hunter snorted with disgust, knowing where this conversation was going. “Leave her alone, Chris. She’s too young, too smart, and way too independent for you.”

  “That’s not the impression I got,” Chris returned with a wanton grin.

  Hunter recalled what Cary had told him the previous evening about perceptions. “Like I said, she’s too damn smart for you.”

  “I’m not out to marry her, Hunter. Is she involved with anyone?”

  “How would I know?” Hunter indignantly replied.

  “She works for you. Has she mentioned a boyfriend?”

  “Christ, Chris. I don’t ask about those kinds of things.”

  Chris traced his fingers over the black leather steering wheel. “So you don’t have a problem if I take her out?”

  “Yeah, I do. She’s an employee of the company. It looks bad.”

  “I could give a shit if it looks bad. I’m only asking if you mind. Like if you’re interested in her for yourself?”

  Hunter’s anger erupted from his gut. “I don’t date employees, Chris, and neither should you. Cary is a nice girl and she doesn’t need your bullshit.”

  “My bullshit?” Chris chuckled as the light turned green. “That’s rich coming from you. I figured it was only a matter of days before you tried to bed her. Let’s face it, Hunts, if it has got a skirt, you chase it.”

  “Don’t call me that,” Hunter roared as the car zoomed ahead. “I hate it when you call me Hunts. And leave Cary alone. I don’t need you pulling your macho crap with her.”

  “What macho crap?”

  “Come on, Chris. The same crap you pulled with Monique. You damn near smothered that woman to death. No wonder she ran off with the other guy.”

  Chris waved his hand at his brother. “You don’t know anything about Monique Delome or our relationship. And that has got nothing to do with your new girl. All I’m asking is for you to put in a good word for me.”

  “What?” Hunter shouted. “I’m not going to help you get her in bed by telling her a bunch of lies about you.”

  Chris rolled his eyes. “Oh, all right. I’ll pass on Cary, if it upsets you so much.”

  “It doesn’t upset me. I just think it’s a bad idea.”

  Chris parked the car in front of the three-story, red-bricked townhouse of Donovan Books. “Get back to work, little brother, and forget I mentioned it.”

  Hunter opened the car door and grabbed for his leather briefcase. “You’re still an asshole.”

  “Asshole?” Chris shook his head. “At least I know their names the next morning.”

  Hunter grunted when Julia greeted him as he walked in the glass doors of the building. Climbing the stairs to the third floor, his rage ate away at him as he pictured Cary spending an evening with his brother. By the time he made it to his office door, he was ready to punch a hole in the wall. But when he saw Cary at her desk, typing away on her new black laptop computer, he tried to curtail his anger.

  “Hey,” she called when she spotted him in the doorway. “Look what I got. Your computer guy, Jesse, just finished getting me hooked into your Wi-Fi network here.”

  “That’s great,” he mumbled as he shot across the room.

  Cary’s cheerful demeanor fell. “Did you have a bad meeting?”

  He banged his briefcase down on his desk. “No, I had a very good meeting.” He went behind his desk and took his chair. “But I think you should stay away from my brother.”

  Cary sat back in her chair. “Stay away? I don’t understand.”

  “Chris is interested in you and I don’t think you should be encouraging him.”

  The atmosphere in the office became thick with apprehension. “Are you saying you don’t want me to go out with him?” she finally questioned.

  “No.” He took a calming breath, tempering his desire to slam his fist into his desk. “I’m just saying you need to be careful with him.”

  “So you don’t mind if I do go out with him?”

  “I didn’t say that,” he argued.

  “You either want me to go out with him or you don’t, Hunter.”

  “You’re an employee of Donovan Books, Cary, and he is a part owner. It might look—”

  “Aw, come on.” She slapped her hand on her desk and the sound made Hunter flinch. “This has got nothing to do with Donovan Books. This is about last night. I thought you said that kiss was a mistake. Was it a mistake, or was there something more?”

  Hunter was stunned into silence. He couldn’t tell her that the kiss had done something to him, and that he desperately did not want her going out with his brother.

  “There was nothing more.” He turned to his laptop. “Forget I brought it up.”

  She stood from her desk chair. “Are you sure you don’t want to talk about this?”

  He punched a few keys on his laptop and opened his e-mail. “No.” Keeping his eyes glued to his inbox, he scanned the unread e-mails until he saw something he had been waiting for.

  After reading the e-mail, he grinned, enjoying the first glimmer of hope he had entertained all morning. “We’d better get rolling on this new erotica line,” he called to Cary.

  “Why, what is it?”

  He raised his eyes from his computer. “Smut Slut, just sent me her approval for the contract. Looks like we have The Bondage Club to launch as the first novel in our line.”

  Cary’s face sobered. “First order of business needs to be the book cover. She will want to see it as soon as possible. She’s pretty particular about her covers.”

  “Sounds good,” he agreed. “Any ideas?”

  She came around to the front of her desk. “I know what she likes. I can come up with something and send it on to her.”

  “We have a graphic designer named Jesse Hart in the basement. He handles all of our computer problems, phone problems, and online problems, too.”

  “Yeah, we’ve met. I just told you he set up my computer for me.” She paused, letting her eyes wander over his face. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine…just tired.” He brushed off her concern. “Why don’t you get with him and come up with a few cover designs? Send her a selection. Once we have a cover, then you and I can work on a launch date.” Cary was heading to the door when he stopped her. “We will need to set up a meeting with her soon to go over the details of the launch.”

  “That might be hard to do. Smut Slut is rather a recluse, and is always working on the next book.” She glanced back at him. “And she isn’t a big fan of meetings, especially with publishers.”

  “Talk her into it,” he ordered.

  “I’ll try, but I make no guarantees.” Cary quickly walked through the open office door.

  When Hunter returned
to his e-mails, his stomach clenched when he saw the one with Kathleen’s name attached to it.

  “Son of a bitch,” he mumbled, opening the e-mail.

  You were right, and I was wrong. I’m an ass and I’m sorry. Please come tonight. It’s at the Marcia Wood Gallery at eight. You’ve never missed an opening.

  Kat

  At the bottom of the e-mail was an address of an art gallery in the SoNo part of downtown.

  Hunter debated if he should go. He had known Kathleen almost twenty years, and in that time he had seen her rise to the top of her field. It was true he had never missed an opening of any of her shows, but he wondered if the time had come to cut those ties. They had continued their malingering relationship for too long to be considered healthy, and his feelings for her had become almost maddening. Maybe he could consider tonight his last good-bye, wish her luck, and then walk away. Perhaps the time had come to find someone who built him up instead of ripping him apart.

  Closing her e-mail, he once again read Smut Slut’s response to his contract offer. A sense of power invigorated him. His plans were beginning to take shape, and the most important step had been locked into place. Now if he could just keep his relationship with Cary Anderson platonic, everything would be perfect. The future of his company was at stake and he needed to concentrate on that and not her. But as he thought of their kiss, his determination wavered.

  Why her? Why now?

  The monotony of his job took a turn toward the interesting as he thought of the days they would have to spend together getting his new erotica division up and running. As he flipped through a few more e-mails his mind returned to his conversation with his brother, and Chris’s desire to take Cary out on a date.

  “If she wants to get involved with your brother, then don’t say a word. It’s her life…stay out of it,” he reasoned, trying to temper his reservations and his attraction to the woman. “Think of the new line, Hunter. Think only of that, and to hell with everything else.”