Bound Temptations: Stories of Temptation and Submission (3 page)

The joys of being a small
business owner...

Nearly two hours later,
Rocki had finished the paperwork and focused on the mail. Bills,
bills, junk, bills, bills, tax-related crap—oh, joy, more bills.
She frowned as she came across a heavy-weight envelope. The blocky
handwriting on the front was unfamiliar, but it was addressed to
her.

Not the business.
Her.

Odd. Using her letter
opener, she sliced it open and pulled out a card.

The card was blank. But not
empty. The photo that spilled out was her, in black and white. An
image of her walking to her car one evening. A shiver raced down
her spine.

Not again...

Swallowing, Rocki turned the
picture over. And when she saw that it was blank, she breathed all
over again. Shit. Oh, shit. For a minute there, she'd
been...

But this wasn't the same. If
it had been the same, he would have written something. He would
have to let her know it was him. Memories from years earlier tried
to rush out at her. But she pushed them back. She wouldn't let that
time overwhelm her. Her fingers tightened, and she almost crumpled
the picture. She stopped herself, though. With fingers that shook,
she tucked the photo back into the card, and the card back into the
envelope.

No, there was nothing on it.
Not like before.

But that didn't mean
anything. She wouldn't call about it yet.

She'd be careful, though.
Damn careful.

It could very well be
nothing.

However, she knew from
experience, it could also be bad, bad news…

"You know, you could just
find your own supplier," Cole pointed out as he watched Mara adjust
her costume.

She glared at him in the
mirror. "I want Lush. Every damn person I've talked to has only
thing to say: Lush is the best lingerie designer around. So Lush is
who I'm going to get. She only does designs for that Rocki bitch
and a few others, though, and she doesn't have a website or any way
for me to contact her. So if I want to talk to her, tonight is my
best chance."

Then she looked away from
him and focused on her image. Her blonde hair was swept up in some
intricate knot, leaving her neck and shoulders bare. The gown she
wore was cut so low, it left next to nothing to the imagination.
She smiled at him. "How do I look?"

"Beautiful," he replied
honestly. And she did. Mara would be hard-pressed not
to.

"Excellent." She squared her
shoulders and reached for her mask. "Do you have your
mask?"

He glanced down at the black
one he'd picked up to wear with his tuxedo and sighed. "Yeah. You
realize you may not even get through the door without an
invitation, right?"

"I've asked around. All they
care about is a donation—a sizeable one. The charity is some police
thing—can't remember what. We'll make a donation and we'll get in.
Just make sure you have your checkbook. It's not a
concern."

My
checkbook. Shit
. He sighed. "Fine.
Whatever."

"Really, Cole. You should be
more excited for me. You know how badly I want this information."
Mara leaned forward and adjusted her mask, studying her face in the
mirror. "You know, you could see if you couldn't get some of the
information from Rocki yourself."

Something cold and
unpleasant settled in his gut as he stared at her.
"What?"

Mara laughed. "I saw how she
looked at you. The dumpy bitch probably hasn't had a good lay in
years. No telling what kind of sorry loser she's married to. She
was all but stripping you naked with her eyes. Play up to it."
Slowly, she turned around and leaned back against the dressing
table, smiling at him. "What do you say? Could you put that pretty
face of yours to use and see what she'll tell you?"

Cole sauntered up to her,
keeping his face blank. He dipped his head, placing his lips right
next to Mara's ear. Slowly, he breathed her scent, waiting as she
shivered. Then, in a low voice, he whispered, "Hell,
no."

Unwilling to look at her, he
stormed out of their bedroom. Their bedroom...with a bed they
shared, yet sometimes it felt like he was sleeping with a stranger.
They hadn't touched each other in more than two weeks, or maybe it
was three? Oddly enough, other than waking up with a typical
morning hard-on, he didn't even care.

One thing that did bother
him, though, was the fact that lately he'd been wondering if this
marriage was really the ideal for them. But now, he was almost
certain—it might be okay for Mara, but he was pretty sure it wasn't
right for him.

He'd go to the damn party.
More out of a sense of obligation and to make sure Mara didn't do
anything that he might regret—he was a silent partner in her
business, but he was still a partner. But then he was going to take
a few days away. Decide whether this marriage was the right thing,
or just the convenient thing. And if it wasn't right, he was
getting out before it was too late.

He was almost certain that
he and Mara would be having an interesting discussion come
Monday.

"Would you yank that stick
out of your ass?" Mara bit off in a low voice as they settled into
the line wrapping around the block.

Cole glanced down at her and
then away. "Sweetheart, I'm so pissed off right now, you'd be wise
to leave me alone unless you just want to go in there alone."
Unlike her, he didn't bother lowering his voice. She squeezed his
arm, her nails biting into his skin through his jacket. "And I'm
rather certain you didn't bring your checkbook."

"What is your problem?" she
snapped.

"Other than you expecting me
to play man-whore just to get you information you don't need?" He
looked at her, tried to remember when she'd become this
self-centered, this cold. Had she always been this way and he just
hadn't seen it? He didn't know.

People were staring at them
now. Cole didn't care.

The line shifted forward and
Mara waited until they'd settled again before she whispered, "Would
you keep your voice down?"

"If you don't want people to
stare, then stop talking to me about this," he replied. "We can
discuss it later or not at all."

He stared down at her, at
that icy beauty and realized...he felt nothing. Absolutely nothing.
He couldn't even remember when that had started, but it wasn't a
new thing, this apathy. Shit, this was sad. Abruptly, the anger
drained away and he just felt tired. Damn tired. But one thing was
clear...he didn't need a few days away to decide what he needed,
what he didn't need, what he wanted, what he didn't
want.

Rubbing the back of his
neck, he looked away. "Mara, we need to talk, but now isn't the
time. Let's just try to relax and enjoy the night,
okay?"

"Enjoy it?" A smile curled
her lips, but there was nothing pleasant about it. "This isn't
about enjoying ourselves, baby. It's about getting what I want.
We'll enjoy ourselves later."

She slid him a coy look that
left him unmoved. Blowing out a breath, he focused on the line as
it shifted closer to the shop. This must be one hell of a party,
considering how many people are here, he mused.

"It's one hell of a party,"
Lacey said, smiling at her best friend in the mirror as Rocki
checked her reflection one last time.

It was almost nine. Almost
time for her to make her appearance.

Lush & Lace shared a
wall with the restaurant next door, and in the back, in an area
that was generally for "employees only" on Rocki's side, there was
a door that connected the two businesses. For the yearly benefit,
those two double doors were open wide and people flowed back and
forth, checking out Rocki's merchandise, nibbling at the finger
foods, helping themselves to the cash bar.

By the time the auction
started at ten, both bachelors and bachelorettes would be feeling
mighty fine and ready to bid. Rocki was heading the event as she
always did, but she still wanted to look good. After all, her
store's merchandise was being displayed here. And on
her...

Smoothing a hand down the
front of her red corset, she turned to make sure the laces in the
back were smooth and even. Bare skin showed underneath, gleaming
pale against the garnet red satin. Satisfied with the way the back
looked, Rocki turned around and studied the front. The garter
straps, each set with a rose the same color as her corset, held up
the floor-length satin skirt to just a little above mid-thigh,
displaying her legs, encased in black silk stockings.

She was objective enough to
admit she looked good. Taking the black top hat, Rocki set it on
top of her head, adjusting the angle. Five more seconds—she gave
herself five more seconds to hesitate, to be alone with her
thoughts.

Five more seconds to think
about the fact that another one of those odd cards had arrived,
with another picture of her—this one of her inside the store, taken
through the window. There hadn't been anything on the back, again.
But it still disturbed her. And she couldn't ignore it if any more
came.

She was probably being
careless to ignore them this long. Brant had enough friends on the
force that she knew—she could get in touch with one of
them.

Show them the
pictures...maybe even somebody would remember. She could talk to
Lacey's brother. She knew Clayton would take her
seriously.

Okay, five seconds gone.
Worry about it after.

Rocki blew out a breath.
"Okay. Let's go blow people out of the water," she said, smiling at
Lacey in the reflection.

"Can't you at least try to
help me find her?" Mara demanded as he swirled his wine around and
stared off into the crowd.

"Find who?" Cole asked, even
though he knew exactly who she was talking about.

"The designer, damn it. You
know who." She blew out a breath. "I've asked like five people and
they just say ‘she's around' or ‘she's busy' and nobody will point
her out. Maybe they'll talk to you."

"You think?" He studied her
disgruntled expression. "Not likely. You see, I'm not going to
ask."

She gaped at him. "Why not?
Don't you realize how important this is?"

"No. Because you can get
another designer."

"I don't want another one."
Flags of color rode high on her cheeks, her hands closing into
tight fists. "Damn it, Cole, I can't believe how difficult you're
being."

"Am I? Hmm. Maybe. Too bad,"
Cole muttered, lifting his wine glass and knocking back the merlot
like it was whiskey. Wishing it was. He could use some whiskey.
Desperately.

The music abruptly changed
cadence, and both he and Mara looked up, as did everyone around
them. He hadn't noticed the spiral staircase when he'd been here
before. He noticed it now, though. Noticed it...and the very nice
pair of legs descending...long, shapely legs that would close
perfectly around a man's hips, he thought. Oh, hell. He damn near
swallowed his tongue as Rocki came down the stairs, one hand
trailing along the banister.

She paused halfway down,
smiling out at the crowd. Smiling...and letting everybody get one
damn good look.

Again, he found himself
thinking...Lush.

It was a word that described
her perfectly.

A lot of the women in the
crowd were wearing a hell of lot less clothing than she was. Mara
was wearing less. But Rocki managed to cast them all in shadow.
Looking at her made his hands sweat. The swells of her breasts rose
above the corset she wore, all but begging for the touch of a man's
hands, her ivory skin glowing against the deep, rich, red silk. He
wasn't sure which would be softer to touch. Her waist looked
impossibly small just before her hips flared out into another lush,
ripe curve. The skirt was somehow hitched up, revealing those long
legs encased in dark, smooth stockings.

A wet dream come to life,
Cole thought, staring at her. Shit. He gripped his wine glass
tightly and tore his gaze away from her. Mara was still staring at
her, her lips pursed. "She's making such a spectacle of herself,
dressed like that."

"A spectacle?" he echoed.
"She looks lovely."

Mara rolled her eyes. "She's
too fat to dress that way."

Cole almost choked on his
wine. Fat? Damn it, what in the world was wrong with her? But
instead of replying, he just turned away. Mara only saw what Mara
wanted to see. He was tired of it. So tired of it. And it was
something he wasn't going to deal with much longer.

"I wonder if she ever tries
to put herself up in the auction," Mara mused.

"She's married," Cole
said.

"Oh. Yeah. And even if she
wasn't..." She broke off, laughing. "It's a laughable
thought."

"Damn it, would you shut
up?" he snapped, slamming his glass down and turning his head to
glare at her.

She stared at him. "What is
your problem?"