Bound Temptations: Stories of Temptation and Submission (5 page)

"Hey, are you
okay?"

That voice—

Blinking, she found herself
staring up at Mr. Gorgeous. Cole. Cole Stanton. Mara O'Keily's
fiancé. Automatically, she lifted her hands and rested them on his
chest as she blinked the fog from her brain. "Ah..."

"Hey, you should sit
down."

"No." She shook her head,
feeling foolish. Easing back, she gave him a smile, one that she
hoped was a little more certain than she felt. "I'm just a little
off. Rough day." Rough day, rough night, rough week. She hadn't
eaten anything after the mail had arrived that morning,
either—she'd spotted that damn card right off the bat and it had
killed her appetite. Considering she'd let herself drink a glass of
champagne, and the lack of sleep lately...

"Do you have that thing
laced too tight or what?"

Despite herself, Rocki
laughed. "No. I promise you, I don't." Resting against the wall,
she smiled at him. "It's just been a rough day and I didn't eat
lunch. That, combined with champagne, and I'm a little punch
drunk."

Cole continued to eye her
narrowly, like he didn't entirely believe her explanation. But he
did back up, giving her a few more inches. That let her breathe,
which she desperately needed. If she kept smelling him on every
breath, she didn't know what she might do.

The air between them already
felt a little too warm, a little too heavy.

But then that shifted,
shattered as he looked away. "I...ah. I'm sorry about your husband.
I didn't realize...well, until tonight."

"It's okay." She smiled
sadly and reached up, tugging her hat off. "It's been five
years."

"You look like the wounds
are still fresh. You must have loved him a lot. You still wear his
ring. I didn't notice it before."

Looking down, she rubbed a
finger over the ring. "The wounds aren't exactly fresh, no. But
yes, I loved him with everything I had in me. As for the ring...I
guess I'm just not ready to let him go yet. I don't always wear it,
but sometimes, yeah."

"Would he want you to hold
on this way?"

"No." She tucked a strand of
hair back behind her ear. Sighing, she studied him. "You know, this
isn't exactly something you have any business asking
me."

"You're right. I just can't
help that I hate seeing you look so sad." He hesitated and then
asked, "Should I apologize?"

Rocki frowned. "No. I…geez,
you make it too easy to talk to you."

He did—it was almost
disturbing how easy it felt, talking to him just then. She didn't
even know him. She didn't want to stop talking to him, though.
Still staring at her wedding ring, she said, "Brant wouldn't want
me holding on like this… and I'm not clinging to his memory.
Exactly. It's just…well, I haven't ever met anybody else who got to
me like he did. If I do, I'm not going to walk away from…well.
Whatever could happen. I just haven't…"

She glanced at him,
intending to look away just as fast. But she found herself caught
in the rich, ripe gold of his eyes.

His hand came up, cupping
her cheek. "Guess that's one of those time things, isn't
it?"

His thumb stroked over her
lip. That light touch sent something hot and shivery arrowing
straight down to her core. And her heart—oh, her heart.

It shuddered in her chest,
shuddered, trembled, and for the briefest moment, she felt it
stop.

Oh. Oh, no. This was
bad.

His mouth was just a breath
away from hers and she wanted, desperately, to close the distance
between them, cover his mouth with hers.

But she didn't. Instead, she
turned her face and said quietly, "Cole...you tempt me. But you're
all wrong for me. The wrong type of guy completely."

His hand hesitated and then
he backed away. "And what type of guy am I?"

"The taken type," she said
wryly. "And your fiancée already hates me enough. Let's not make
things any more unpleasant than they already are."

Edging around him, she slid
out the door.

Almost showtime. Then she
could go home. Slip into some PJs, get something hard and strong to
drink, and collapse into the bed. At least now she suspected she
might have a pleasant dream tonight, instead of a
nightmare.

"...may I present the
hostess of tonight's festivities..."

Cole was edging his way to
the front of the restaurant, determined to get the hell out of
there before he did anything else stupid. Like try to make a move
on Rocki again.

"...Lush!"

Automatically, he glanced
back. His eyes widened as he found himself staring at Rocki as she
accepted the hands of two tuxedo-clad men, lifting her onto the
stage.

"For those who are new to
the event, Lush, also known as Rocki Monroe, designs many of the
pieces sold in Lush & Lace," the petite redhead on the stage
said, smiling as Rocki sauntered toward her. "Lush started out
designing costumes in high school theater and began devoting more
time to design in college. But it wasn't until after her husband's
death that she actively began pursuing this particular dream—it was
a dream only her husband and I knew about."

Rocki stopped next to the
redhead. The other woman smiled up at her friend. "The name even
came from him...Lush, his nickname for Rocki."

"Don't forget about the
other part," Rocki chided, taking the microphone. "Lace. Short for
Lacey Morgan, who takes the portraits. My not-so-silent partner."
She bumped her hip against the other woman and grinned as the paler
skinned woman flushed a brilliant shade of crimson.

Somebody from out in the
crowd called out, "Can we bid on the two of you?"

Lacey quipped, "You can't
handle the two of us, Mitchell." Then she bowed to Rocki. "Lush,
the stage is all yours."

Rocki curtsied and stepped
aside as the two tuxedo-clad men helped her friend off the
stage.

Staring at Rocki, Cole found
himself chuckling.

"That bitch." Mara appeared
at his side, seething.

Cole, his amusement fading,
looked at her. "Pardon?"

"She did this on purpose—she
fucking knew I'd find out who she was tonight and she did this to
humiliate me," Mara snarled.

Cole muffled a groan. "Mara,
nobody is even paying you any attention. You're not going to be
humiliated unless you bring it on yourself. Now if you'll excuse
me..."

She went to grab his arm but
he evaded her. "Enough," he warned her. "It's done between us and
I'm not going to have you grabbing me and digging your claws in
every time you don't get the final word."

"How can you do this to me?"
She stared at him, all big eyes and sadness now. Apparently going
for a different tactic. "I can't believe you want to end it without
even talking things through."

"There's nothing to talk
through. We're through...I think we have been for a while and I
just didn't see it." He shook his head. "I'm not going to discuss
it when there's nothing you can do or say to change my
mind."

"That's hardly fair, is it?"
she asked, her voice brittle. "It's not about fair," he replied.
"You don't even see what you've become. If you don't see it, you
can't change it. And I can't marry the woman you are." He stared at
her, wishing he could see even a little bit of genuine sadness in
her eyes, but all he really saw was wounded pride and cold
anger.

If he'd seen something of
the woman she'd been once, maybe...but there was nothing. Just the
ice queen.

Sighing, Cole turned away
and moved off into the crowd. He could leave. He should. Mara had
the keys to the car and the condo in her purse. But he could call a
cab and get a hotel for the next few days until he figured out
where he was going to stay, what he was going to do.

Yes, he could leave. But he
didn't. Nor did he really want to. He found himself in the small
sitting area tucked in the corner of Lush & Lace, staring into
his glass of whiskey and brooding. When somebody slid onto the
corner of the couch next to him, he bit back a sigh, convinced it
was Mara.

But it wasn't.

It was the redhead.
Lacey.

She stared at him, her vivid
green eyes echoed by the green design of her corset. It was one
that Rocki had called an underbust, and although the woman was
almost as slender as Mara, he had to admit, it did wonderful things
for her. Still, he found himself wishing it was Rocki sitting
there. He could hear her voice, husky, low, full of laughter and
humor, filling the room next door.

"So you're engaged to the
Wicked Witch of High Street."

Cole burst out laughing. He
couldn't help it. He supposed he shouldn't laugh, not so easily.
But hell, the name was fitting.

Lacey continued to stare at
him, a smile dancing around her lips. "Well?"

Cole, still chuckling,
lowered his gaze to his whiskey glass. "It's not exactly your
business, is it?"

"Well. Not exactly. But I
keep seeing you staring at Rocki. And I've seen her staring at you.
I'd be really excited about that. But if you're engaged...well. I
don't like it. She needs to get back in the game, but not with a
married guy."

Smirking, he took a sip of
his drink. Then he sighed. "Well, that's not going to be an issue
with me," he said.

"And that's because
...?"

"Damn. You're
nosy."

"Yeah, I am." She gingerly
leaned over to the side, something that was too graceful to be
called a slump. He couldn't exactly describe it. "You got any idea
how hard it is to slouch in one of these?"

"No. And I'm happy not
knowing, too."

Lacey laughed. "Awesome.
Because I've got to tell you, men in corsets? They just don't work
for me. I'm glad to hear that's not your thing."

She tapped her index finger
on the arm of the couch, still watching him closely. "I've got to
say, you just don't seem to fit with her. Mara, I mean. She's
so...cold and bitchy. You seem perfectly human."

"Don't you think you should
get to know people a little better before deciding shit like that?"
he asked irritably. He took another drink and settled deeper on the
couch, staring up at the ceiling.

"So I'm wrong? You're cold?
You're not human? Maybe she's not as bitchy as she
seems?"

For the longest time, he was
quiet. Then he answered softly, "No. But she didn't used to be that
way. Lately, though...well. It doesn't matter. Not any more. Not
after tonight." He closed his eyes.

"And what happened
tonight?"

He popped one eye open and
stared at her. "It doesn't concern you."

Lacey hummed under her
breath. "Okay. Well, answer this. You got the hots for Rocki or
not?"

He didn't answer, but he
suspected the slow crawl of red up his cheeks did the answering for
him.

Lacey laughed. "Awesome.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go cause some trouble. You
got your checkbook handy? You might need it."

Frowning, he opened the
other eye and watched as she slipped out of the room, moving into
the crowded mess of the restaurant. What the hell...?

"What the hell?" Rocki
muttered, watching as Lacey came back up on stage.

"Ladies and gentlemen. We
have one final date to auction away tonight." Then Lacey paused and
added, "Although it's more for the men. Sorry, ladies. And guys,
some of you have been asking for this for a long while
..."

Dread curdled in Rocki's
stomach as she stared at the back of her friend's head. Oh,
shit.

She wouldn't.

Then Lacey looked back at
her with a wicked smile. "Tonight, folks...Lush is going on the
auction block. One date—one night of Lush's company. A movie,
dinner, a night at the opera...you can choose or let her decide.
Now, can we open the bidding at five hundred?"

Rocki, feeling more than a
little lightheaded, and altogether furious, stood there stunned as
half a dozen hands went up in the air.

I'm going
to kill her
.

But by the time the bids
went up over twelve hundred dollars, she was feeling a little less
murderous. Still very light-headed. Swallowing, she made her way to
stand next to Lacey. She rested a hand on the podium—she needed the
support, badly. She smiled out at all the faces she couldn't see,
thanks to the lights.

Next to her, Lacey was
grinning and having the time of her life.

"How about fifteen hundred?
Do have fifteen hundred?"

There were fewer voices
now.

One voice called out,
"Sixteen hundred."

For
reasons Rocki couldn't explain, that particular voice sent a
shudder of dread down her spine. Revulsion. Fear.
Not that one
, she
thought…