Command (9 page)

She returned to the lab table and propped one hip on the top of the stool. “Start small and inexpensive, enough to be disruptive. Enough for consumers to demand the cable system talk to Molly. Make her personal, somewhat customizable. Imagine a commercial, ‘Say hello to Molly’ and Molly responding to them, making their lives easier in a number of ways. Damn, Grant, she can start your dishwasher, inform you when your kids come home from school, maybe even feed your pets and keep track of whether you paid your credit card bill. I mentioned she could run the dishwasher, didn’t I?”

“Spoken like someone who forgets to do that?”

She shrugged. “Every day.”

“We’ve got a million issues here, Aria. Security. Privacy.”

“So what? None of those challenges are insurmountable. We provide a central hub. Stores and businesses can opt in, for a fee. They’re difficult, but even you know that if you have an idea and an objective, you can find a solution. You’ve got the best minds in the universe at your disposal.”

“I see why Julien likes you. You don’t stop in the face of challenges.”

“If you’ve had this idea, someone else will, too. Do we want to be first? Or a do we want to be a latecomer?”

“Do we want to be involved at all?”

“You could keep it to yourself,” she agreed. “That’s always the big question, isn’t it? What project, what things are worth the investment and yield the biggest payoff?”

Most companies would run an expensive analysis on the potential, but Julien didn’t operate that way. Analysis paralysis, he’d proclaim. And he’d add that some companies needed to pull their heads out of their asses and move. His anxiousness to keep moving forward was one of the reasons he’d yet to take Bonds public. Even though the company was growing every year, he ran it by instinct and had little desire to listen to any expert analysis. It earned him some bad write-ups in the financial press, but also the respect of his employees. And besides, Julien had filters on everything he read so that he never saw anything negative about himself.

Aria rolled her shoulders and sat up straight.

“I’ve kept you working too long.” Weren’t his work habits something Julien complained about? It had not been his intention. He’d thought he’d show her the house then let her get settled in, maybe have a shower and change out of her travel clothes. Instead they’d seamlessly flowed from tour to work. “How about we take a break?”

“My
tres leches
is wearing off,” she admitted.

“I’ll pour you a glass of wine while I make dinner.”

“Those sound like two of my favorite things.”

He had her use the palm plate to let them out of the room.

She preceded him down the hallway, and she almost missed a step when she saw the dog curled up in front of the fireplace. “That’s still freaky,” she said.

She stopped, and Grant did the same, standing next to her.

“From here, it actually looks like he’s breathing.”

“He is. Molly, have the dog lift up his head.”

“
Yes, Your Majesty
.”

The animal lifted its head, looked around then put it back down on the rug.

“I still think he needs a name,” Aria said.

“Feel free.”

“It needs to represent who he is. Maybe a play on words.”

“Why does it matter to you?”

She got quiet. “I guess it shouldn’t, but for some reason, it does. He’s part of the family.”

That comment surprised him. “Is he?”

“Molly has a name,” she countered.

“And?”

“It makes things feel more personal.”

“That’s important to you?”

He began to think she wouldn’t answer. “I’ve thought about getting a dog, but I just never seem to get around to it. I keep thinking that one day I’ll be less busy.”

“And?” he encouraged gently. He suspected she was revealing considerably more about herself than she had originally planned.

“I’ve spent a lot of years focused on where I’m going that I wonder if I have sight of what’s really important. My friends, my parents…”

She paused. He waited.

“I spend time with them, but I could probably nurture the connections more. Maybe I should think about getting a pet. But not a hologram one.”

He appreciated what she’d shared. He, too, knew the trade-offs, the questions. The fact she’d opened up made him question some of his own decisions. Her visit was impacting him in ways he would have never thought possible.

“Dinner?” she prompted.

He was surprised by how much he wanted to cook a meal and share it with her.

Once they were in the kitchen, she said, “What can I do to help?”

“Be properly appreciative of my culinary skills.”

“That
, I can do. Applause? Or just sounds of approval?”

“All of that.” He grinned. “Just relax.”

“You’re serious?” She leaned her hips against the counter and crossed one foot over the other. “I came here to work, not to take a vacation.”

“You can cook another time.”

“I’ll wait until the snow clears then have Molly arrange for take-out pizza.”

“How did I know you’d say that?”

“I’m an excellent helper, though. Don’t they call the person who runs and fetches a sous chef?”

“I’ve got other ideas of roles for you to fill.”

His tone told her exactly what they were. Like it had earlier, the idea intrigued her, but she wished it didn’t. She shoved the images aside. She wasn’t here to be his lover, and definitely not his submissive.

“Any preference on wine?” he asked, crouching to open the built-in wine refrigerator.

“Anything is fine.” Just something to distract her or, better yet, take away the sudden edge of desire.

“Red or white?”

“White.”

“Sweet or dry?” He glanced up.

“Could you make this any more complicated?”

“I like to take care of my guests.”

“I can only imagine,” she said. “Sweet. The wine, that is. Not your innuendos.”

“In case you were confused, that was an invitation, not an innuendo.” He grabbed a bottle. “Chardonnay, it is.”

“I’ll get the glasses.” She took two from a cupboard.

When Julien had told him she was arriving, he hadn’t expected to feel this easy with her being in his space. He wasn’t missing work, in fact, his mind was going in a couple of new directions since talking to her.

He uncorked the bottle and set it aside while she went around to sit on the other side of the counter.

“What are we having?”

“Tarragon chicken and boiled red potatoes.”

“Did you just decide that?”

“Yeah. If you’d have selected a red wine, I’d have made a beef dish.”

“What if I chose to skip dinner and just have dessert?”

“Innuendo?”

“A legitimate question,” she replied, apparently realizing she’d played along with him.

Oh, yes, she was an appealing woman. Smart. Sassy. “If you had said you wanted chocolate, I’d have chosen a nice malbec.” He laid out crackers, cheese and olives to snack on then poured her a glass of the wine.

“Really, Grant. You’ll never get rid of me this way.”

No reason they shouldn’t both feel the attraction. “Good.”

She sucked in a little breath. “I…”

“Have a sip.”

After she did, she closed her eyes in appreciation. “Thank you. It’s wonderful.”

He prepped the chicken then cooked it for five minutes on each side in olive oil until the skin was a golden color. Grant popped the iron skillet in a hot oven then got to work on the potatoes.

“I think you should get your own cooking show,” she said, giving him the requested applause.

“Problem is, I have about six meals then I start repeating them.”

She laughed. “That’s about the same number I have in my rotation, too.”

Once the water was boiling, he spread some brie on a few crackers. She snuck in and grabbed one before he could eat it.

“I like your style,” he approved.

After their earlier, more emotionally real conversation, she kept the discussion light, chatting about her responsibilities for Bonds. Personally, he preferred her as she’d been earlier…more revealing Aria. The glimpse of her inner thoughts had made him hungry for more. “If you still want to help, you could get the plates and silverware,” he suggested while refilling her glass.

“Happy to.” She eased off the stool. “Do you normally eat at the counter?”

“Most times just standing up,” he admitted. “So let’s use the table. I wouldn’t take time to appreciate it if you weren’t here.”

Their gazes held for a moment. “Perfect.”

“How about some music?”

“Jazz?” she suggested.

“Good choice. Molly, find us some jazz to listen to.”

“
My pleasure. Are you in the mood for something lively or maybe
sexxxxy
?”

“Neither,” he said to Molly. But Aria was grinning. To her, he added, “Are you beginning to see the problems with artificial intelligence?”

“
What is it you plan on using the music for, Your Majesty? If you want to get jiggy, I could suggest some Marvin Gaye, perhaps start with a little
Sexual Healing
—
”

“Miles Davis,” he interrupted.

“
Sexual Healing
?” Aria repeated. “That’s on your playlist? Do you have her choose that every time you have a woman over?”

“I told you that you’re the first woman I’ve had out here. Molly, cue Miles Davis. Something instrumental, and turn up the volume.” Then he added, “Now.”

The opening notes of
So What
flowed through the living area, and, as he’d requested, quite loudly.

“Sorry,” he said to Aria as he cupped his ear. “What were you saying? I’m having trouble hearing you.”

Her grin became laughter. He could honestly say he’d never enjoyed having a woman around more. It felt easy. Natural. Maybe because they were coworkers? No expectations.

Right.

He enjoyed that they shared a passion for their work. They both wanted to carve their mark on the future and make people’s lives easier.

Her hips were swaying in time to the music as she set the table. Male that he was, he stood there for a second and enjoyed the view. She seemed uninhibited. And those legs, in the tights and boots…

Distraction.

He needed a distraction.

He moved to the home’s control panel and used the manual touchscreen to countermand his order to Molly and set the music at a level that would make talking possible. Then he pushed the icon to turn on the fireplace. In response, the dog moved slightly closer to the warmth.

“Impressive,” she said, glancing over.

“The image isn’t perfect. Probably never will be.”

“Isn’t the quest its own reward?”

“I prefer accomplishment,” he said.

“Forever restless.”

“My eternal conundrum,” he agreed. “I like the Zen philosophy. Yet, it too is a quest. For me, the act of seeking it causes it to be out of reach.” Odd, until now, he hadn’t put that together.

He noticed that she’d placed a setting at the head of the table, another to the left. It occurred to him that part of the reason he didn’t take the time to enjoy the dining room was that he always ate alone, most often standing in the kitchen. Having her here was turning out to be more instructive than intrusive.

Grant drained the potatoes, buttered them and added parsley, a dash of salt and a sprinkle of pepper before pulling out the chicken and placing it on a serving platter.

“How about more wine?” she asked before topping off the glasses.

He joined her at the table where she was already seated.

“When Julien told me he was sending me here, I felt like it was a bit of a punishment,” she confessed.

“And now?”

“It’s quiet. Peaceful. And not in a bad way, but more in a way that allows you the space to think.” She glanced out of the window. “Except for the snow and the wind.”

“I can give you the Caribbean in your bedroom.”

“I may take you up on that.”

When the plates were pushed aside, she sat back and ran her finger around the rim of her glass. He waited.

“I’m curious.”

As he’d hoped she would be. He’d given her a lot of information about what he liked, his tastes. It was up to her to decide which way to take this evening.

“How did you figure out you liked submissive women, the whole BDSM kinky thing?”

“That was in college. I met Julien, and he introduced me to his other friends, Reece and Kennedy. Kennedy liked going to clubs—but not nightclubs, more like dungeons.”

“Places like that really exist?”

“I assure you, they do. The first time I went, I was intrigued. There was a couple, she was a Domme. She had a submissive—” He broke off. “Are you sure you want to hear this?”

She leaned back in her chair. “I didn’t think I’d be interested, but I am.”

“That’s the first rule of BDSM—consent. Many times, people think it’s about tying up your partner or turning her over your knee and giving her a few spanks. But everything in BDSM is talked about, limits set, safe words discussed.” It had been a long time since he’d introduced a woman to his world, and he hadn’t remembered it being this stimulating. “At any point, you’re welcome to tell me to stop talking.”

“Wait, that doesn’t happen in most relationships. I’ve had times I’d rather gouge out my eyes than continue listening to another self-serving story.”

“I promise you I’ll shut up the moment you find me boring.”

“Well, I’m not bored. Yet.”

He turned his chair and stretched his legs in front of him. He wanted to see her better, read her expression.

“The woman,” Aria prompted.

“I’ll never forget her. She was wearing a brocade jacket and leggings, and her submissive was wearing just a thong. As she was attaching him—”

“Wait. The submissive was a man?”

“Shattered some of my preconceived notions, too,” he admitted. “But I’ll never forget the way she interacted with him, touching his body the whole time that she attached him to the St. Andrew’s cross, speaking directly into his ear. It was as if the two of them were alone in the club. The flogging she gave him went on for a long, long time. It seemed more like she was caressing him than anything else. And he seemed completely enraptured by the experience. When it was over, she continued to touch him. I’d never seen a couple look at each other like that. And I decided that I wanted something similar.”