Dark Attraction: The Corde Noire Series (5 page)

She rushed toward the kitchen. “I thought I was being robbed.”

“And the first place any thief would go is to your kitchen, right?” He smirked at her.

She pointed the bat at him. “Look, smartass, I don’t need you stealing my keys and breaking into my—”

“If you ask me that’s exactly what you need.” He lifted the pan from the cooktop. “I checked your fridge last night before I left. All you had was an assortment of dips, beer, and two bottles of vodka. I had to bring over food to cook for you.” He went to one of the plates on the countertop and slid the omelet onto it. “Eat this. You’ll feel better.”

“Doug, stop it.” She set the bat on the breakfast bar. “I appreciate your concern, but I’m a grown woman. I’m fine, drunk, hungover, and even sober without your help.”

He removed the bat from the bar. “You ever think that maybe I’m here because I’m more than just concerned about you?”

Her stomach shrank to the size of a shot glass. “You are?”

He motioned to a stool by the breakfast bar. “Eat, and then we’ll talk about what I’m after with you.” He set the bat to the side.  

Sliding out the stool, she had a seat while eyeing the omelet. It looked good; actually, it looked perfect. Lifting her fork, she cleaved off a wedge of the omelet. Doug poured a cup of coffee and set the mug next to her plate.

His smoldering eyes made her feel like a child in the principal’s office. “You’re a good cook,” she commented, munching on her food.

“Thank you. I took several cooking classes a few years back.”

“I thought most men got married to avoid cooking.”

He reached for his mug of coffee on the countertop behind him. “I’m not like most men.” He sipped his coffee.

You can say that again
. She eyed his casual jeans and white button-down shirt. Even his clothes were stiff and formal.

She pointed her fork at him. “Are you heading out somewhere?”

“No.” He put his mug down and checked the stainless watch on his right wrist.

“Then why are you looking at your watch?”

“Because I’m wondering how long it is going to take you to finish eating your omelet.”

She put her fork down. “There. I’m finished. Happy?”

He inspected the plate. “You ate two bites.”

She gripped her coffee mug. “I’m not a big breakfast person.”

He went to her plate and picked up her fork. “I’ll keep that in mind.” He sliced off a piece of the omelet.

“So, you said after I ate, you wanted to talk … about what you’re after … with me.”

He chewed on his piece of omelet while analyzing her. The scrutiny was nerve-wracking and Sam shifted on her stool, pretending to drink her coffee.

He put the fork down and pushed the plate to the side. “I have some questions for you.”

She took another swig of coffee, expecting she would need the caffeine boost to keep her on her toes.

“I’m all ears.”

His eyes examined her face, as if he were studying every facet of her features. “I thought we should know more about each other. I know you’re single, live here in this building, and are a nurse, but little else. Where are you from?”

“Where am I from?” She shook her head, expecting something a bit more confounding. “Ah, I’m from Dallas. I was born and raised there. I came to New Orleans as a result of a travel contract in nursing. I figured I would see the country.”

“What about your parents?”

“Um, they live in Dallas, with my sister, Beverly. I told you my dad is a Methodist minister. He has a big congregation in the city. Mom’s a housewife, and my sister is a beauty queen.”

He raised his dark brows, intrigued. “Beauty queen?”

She put her coffee mug on the bar. “Yeah, she won some local pageants. Ms. Farmers’ Market, Ms. Downtown … things like that. She’s trying out for Ms. Dallas next year. Bev eventually wants to become Ms. Texas.” She rolled her eyes. “My parents think it’s a wonderful idea.”

“I take it that doesn’t appeal to you.”

“It’s Bev’s thing. She was always the pretty one. I was the … I was just different.”

He leaned into the counter. “You don’t think you’re pretty?”

She sat back on her stool, uncomfortable with the question. “I’m pretty enough.”

“Enough?” He snickered. “What do you think you look like?”

Sam was undone by the question. How did she answer that? How did anyone answer that?

“Let me put it this way,” he reached for his coffee, “what do you like about your body and what don’t you like?”

She thought about the question. Sizing up her list, Sam wasn’t surprised to find the things she didn’t like outnumbered the things she did. “I don’t like my legs. They’re short and kind of sausage-looking.” She bit her lower lip, thinking. “I guess my face is okay, and I like my eyes. My chin is too small, but then again so are my boobs.” Realizing what she’d said, Sam blushed.

Doug laughed at her embarrassment. “I like it when you’re blunt. Don’t be shy around me. I want to hear these things.”

“What for?” she asked, emboldened by his encouragement.

“It lets me get to know you.”

“What’s the point of getting to know me, Doug? I mean, we’re just neighbors, right?”

He went around the breakfast bar to her. “In my world, talking about what you like and don’t like is important. It’s the cornerstone of the relationship.”

“What relationship? Like a business relationship?”

“If you like.” He took a quick sip of his coffee. “Tell me, do you have any physical problems that I should know about.”

Sam froze. Did she tell him about her ability? “Do you mean like illnesses? In case you need to call 911 for me?”

His sly grin was mesmerizing. “Yeah, something like that.”

“I’m fine. Just a bit accident prone.”

“I got that part already.”

She stared at him, sizing up his intentions. Why did she feel like she was interviewing for a job? “Is there anything else you would like to know?”

He took a moment to drink his coffee. “There is one thing. How many lovers have you had?”

Okay, this is not a job interview
!

He put his coffee on the bar and tilted closer to her. “I want to know about your sexual experiences.”

“What are you, some kind of pervert?”

He stood for the longest time, observing her. “I’m not a pervert. I’m asking you these questions for a very specific reason,” he finally replied.

“What possible reason could that be?”

His sharp eyes stayed locked on hers, and after he finally uttered a long, slow sigh, he asked, “Have you ever consented to being a submissive?”

“A what?”

“Do you know what a Dominant is?” he inquired in a husky, deep voice.

Sam knew anyone not living under a rock was familiar with the term. And if that wasn’t enough, she had endured hours of Piper’s stories about her bondage-obsessed boyfriend and his Dominant lifestyle.

“I know what it is, Doug.”

He ran his hand over his five o’clock shadow. “Well, I’m a Dominant.”

It took a little while for his revelation to sink in, but Sam wasn’t quite sure how to take it. “You? You’re into that?”

“You say ‘into that’ like it’s a bad thing.”

“Isn’t it? Dominants make women into sex slaves. Tie them up, spank them, make them do things that are ….” She let her voice fade away, wondering if it was a good idea to antagonize the guy.

“Are what?” He squared his wide shoulders and folded his thick arms, intimidating her.

“Are … I don’t know what to call it. ‘Against God’s plan,’ as my father would say.”

His rigid posture relaxed. “Coming from a preacher’s daughter, I shouldn’t have expected anything else.”

“I’m a minister’s daughter, and I’m not as uptight as my parents. My father may profess love and forgiveness, but none of those emotions are what drive people to shoot, torture, or murder each other. It seems to me that instead of hurting people, you would want to be better than the rest of the world.”

His frigid eyes came together quizzically. “I’m not sure what you’ve read, or heard, but being a Dominant is about pleasure, not pain. It’s about what your father preaches, love and forgiveness, but it’s also about exploring that sense of love and forgiveness through sensuality. I’m sure your father never made that point in his Sunday morning sermons, did he?”      

Sam thought of her father: his perfectly starched white shirts, affinity for crossword puzzles, and his late night appetite for bourbon. He said he drank to chase away his demons, but for Sam that was when his demons came out.

“Sex to my father was the biggest sin. We grew up sheltered. It wasn’t until I went to college and had to take a sex education class that I got the big picture.”

Doug’s thin lips lifted into a tepid smile. “I can see why you might consider what I do wrong.”

Wrong?
Did she see it that way? Why wasn’t she repulsed by his admission? She should have been running for her door, afraid to be alone in the same room with Doug. But she wasn’t. Something about what he’d said appealed to her.

“What you do isn’t wrong, Doug. I spent enough time listening to my father preach about what was right to realize that his way wasn’t the right one, either. Nursing taught me to respect an individual’s choices. My job is to make sure those choices aren’t lethal.”

He went to the other stool at the bar and had a seat. “What does your father think about your job?”

A nervous stitch caught in her belly. “Wouldn’t know. I haven’t spoken to him in years.”

“Years?” He appeared genuinely surprised. “Can I ask what happened?”

She clasped her hands together and placed them on the bar, feeling that knot in her stomach tighten. “I tried to go to him with a problem once. Something distressing happened to me when I was in college. I wanted his advice on what to do. He called me a worthless daughter and never wanted to speak to me again. So, I moved out of my parents’ house and into the dorm. To finish my degree, I took out loans and borrowed money from my mother’s late sister, Aunt Gertie.”

“Why did Aunt Gertie give you money and not your mother?”

“Because Aunt Gertie hated my father and wasn’t afraid of him like my mother. Gertie was a devout Bohemian, who painted nudes of men half her age—and slept with them, too. She was the only member of my family I truly admired. She encouraged me to travel and find myself.”

Doug took a moment to digest her statement. “So what happened to you in college that caused the rift with your father?”

She searched his face. Did he want to know, or was he just milking her for information?
Careful, Sam. Don’t let him know the truth.
She stood from her stool, wishing she had not shared so much, but still yearning to tell him more.

“Thank you for breakfast.” She stood back and hoped he would take the hint to leave. If he stayed any longer, she feared what would come out of her mouth next.

Nodding in understanding, he stood from his stool. “I would like to do this again. I meant it when I said I wanted to get to know you.”

“Do you want to get to know me as a submissive or as a friend, Doug?”

He blew out a long breath, sounding stuck on the fence by the question. “I think we should start as friends and see where it goes.”  

“I would like that.”

“Good. It means I haven’t scared you away … yet.”

Sam suppressed a chuckle. “Perhaps I will be the one to scare you away.”

“I doubt that.” He gave her one last killer smile and headed to her front door. “Lock the door behind me, Sam,” he called over his shoulder.

After she had set the dead bolt, Sam went back to her stool and stretched for the plate with the omelet. Getting comfortable, she began to eat her breakfast. Just as she was beginning to relax, the tapping began.

It always happened in the same spot, the far wall of her living room. She wondered if it was Doug toying with her, but the noise had been going on since long before the attractive man had taken up residence next door.

“Go away,” she said to the wall, but the tapping continued.

She sensed fear, pain, and a female presence, but that was all. Since moving into The Shallows, Sam had experienced so many ghosts she’d learned to ignore them, but this one had persisted. As if someone was trying desperately to be heard. But who?

Eventually, the tapping died away, and Sam returned her thoughts to the mysterious man next door. Of all the things he had told her, the fact that he was a Dominant intrigued her the most. Perhaps there was more to the beguiling Doug Morgan than a fantastic ass.

“I guess I’ll have to come up with something other than Captain Morgan.” She grinned, lifting a forkful of her omelet. “Maybe … Master Morgan.” She giggled. “Wait until I tell the girls.”     

“This is the best news ever!”

Sam cringed, waving at Piper to keep her voice down. She crept closer, not wanting to be overheard by the other staff in the ICU. “How on earth can this be good news? He’s a Dominant. A whip and chains loving deviant.”

Piper put her powder-covered hands on her scrubs. “It’s good news for you, Sam. You’ve got a man who can teach you a thing or two about sex.”

Sam’s eyes almost popped out of her head. “Are you nuts? I can’t sleep with him.”

“Why not? You like him. He’s obviously interested in you. I think you should go for it. It would be good for you.”

“He’s a Dominant. One of those weirdos you warned me about. And how do you know he’s interested in me?”

Piper grinned. “He took care of you. Cooked you breakfast. Checked up on you.” She tossed her hand up. “Hello, he’s interested. So what if he’s a Dominant? Just because it wasn’t for me doesn’t mean the lifestyle couldn’t work for you.”

“Randy used to suspend you from pulleys in his ceiling. If Doug does that to me, I’ll end up on an episode of
Strange Stories of the ER
.”

Piper’s pink lips came together in a smart smirk. “Come on, Sam. What could it hurt? Let the guy play his sex games with you, and if you don’t like it, walk away. You never know, you might pick up some pointers for later.” She grinned. “I sure did.”

“I can’t believe you just said that to me.” Sam marched back to her table in front of her patient’s room.

“Hey, I know you haven’t exactly had a lot of luck with men, but don’t fall into the trap of looking for Prince Charming and passing on Mr. Wonderful because he happens to like to tie you to the bedpost. All men have a kinky side. I found the entire experience liberating.”

“How was being suspended from Randy’s ceiling liberating?”

“Because it was the one thing I swore I would never do during sex. But when I did it, I found out that it wasn’t as bad as I thought. I even enjoyed it, and learning that about myself gave me the confidence to be who I wanted. I started lifting weights because I wanted my outsides to match the strength I felt on my insides. That directed me to Roger. If you ask me, Sam, that’s what you’re missing … your inner strength. It doesn’t matter if you find it through mountain climbing or bondage. The point is that you have to find it. You have to test your limits to find out what you’re made of, and only then can you move on. I think you need to explore that with Doug, so you can put your father and the past behind you.”

With a dismissive shrug, Sam picked up her black pen. “I have put it behind me.”

“No, you haven’t. You’re stuck, Sam. You’re stuck between the past and your future. Sometimes you need a swift kick in the ass to propel you forward. You should do this.”

In some strange way, what Piper said made sense. Sam had initially been terrified of taking her traveling nurse contract, thinking she would have a tough time making it on her own. Even so, she had succeeded, and in the process had learned a lot about herself. Embracing the opportunity for change had led her to a new life in a new city. Where could Master Morgan take her? 

Sam sat down in her chair. “How would I … I mean, how do I go about being with him?”

“Remember the things we talked about the other night? Letting him come over and help you with repairs around the house and such. Just do that, and he will know you’re interested.”

Sam was about to ask another question when she felt that kick in her gut; the undeniable feeling that something was about to happen. Something bad. Taking an inventory of the other beds in the ICU, she spotted where the feeling was coming from. Darkness was hovering in front of the glass door of bed six.

“Piper,” she pointed to bed six. “Something is wrong and—”

She never got to finish before the alarms on the main panel at the nurses’ station started blaring.

“Code blue, bed six,” the tech sitting behind the panel yelled out.

Nurses and techs from across the unit ran to room six. All except for Sam. She knew there was no hope.

When she arrived at the room entrance, a group of nurses were working on the unresponsive patient, starting CPR and pushing medicine through his IV line, but Sam made no move to help out. She stood at the door and watched as the spirit of a gentleman came alongside her.

He wasn’t the same as the pale, bloated, and worn out older man in the ICU bed. His spirit was vibrant, glowing, and much younger.

“Tell my wife I love her,” he said to Sam. “She needs to know.”

Sam felt the warmth of other spirits over her shoulder. Peering back into the ICU, she saw the apparitions of a man and a woman, their outlines faint, waiting just before the ICU entrance.

“They’ve come for you,” she told him. “Best to not keep them waiting.”

With a last smile, he floated toward the entrance, and then with a flash of light he was gone.

When Sam veered her gaze back to the team working feverishly to save their patient, she sighed. How could she tell them that it was already too late?

Instead of giving away her secret, Sam returned to her table.      

She stared blankly at her paperwork as the shouts of her coworkers still working on the dead man echoed throughout the ICU. How could she even consider a relationship with any man? Who would want a woman who could talk to the dead? Her mind clouded over with visions of giving herself to Doug, and all the things he would do to her. Then she imagined telling him about her ability and watching him run away. He would be repelled by what she could do; anyone would be. Even her father had feared her.

Don’t tell him. Just sleep with him and move on.

Perhaps that insidious voice in her head had a point. For the first time, she wanted to have sex with a man who could help her to forget about her past … and her gift. Sam knew it would never last, but at least she could enjoy something resembling a normal life, before the ghosts ruined everything … yet again.

*     *     *

Sam returned home that night and all that greeted her was Doug’s closed door. Outside her apartment, she listened for sounds of movement from inside his place, but there was nothing. Giving up, she went to bed and hoped to encounter him the next day.

Beneath her sheets, she plotted out scenarios with the attractive man. Things she would say or do to spark his interests. Piper had said be seductive, enticing, but Brenda had encouraged her to be bubbly.

“Men adore bubbly,” she had professed with a giggle.

Tossing and turning with thoughts of Doug, blended with the advice from Brenda and Piper, sleep eluded her. Throwing the sheets aside, she sighed. Getting a man sure wasn’t this hard in the movies.

Standing from her bed, she heard the tapping again in the wall. After learning the history of the building from Brenda, she wasn’t surprised by the tapping. Sam just wondered why it had never died away.

In the living room, she heard the strange noise start up again. Tonight, it didn’t sound like it was in the wall, but above in the ceiling. The unusual tapping always traveled, but Sam had just figured that was what ghosts did … moved around.

She went to the kitchen to get a glass of water when she felt a chill brush past her. Halting by the breakfast bar, she waited to see if someone was trying to reach out to her. Seconds ticked by, but she heard no words in her head.

Odd, they usually spoke to her at some point, but this spirit never did. There was only the tapping and that sense of a woman. Then it was gone.

It must have been after three when Sam finally dozed off. She had been fast asleep, dreaming of Brenda and Piper in a wrestling match, when something startled her awake.

Checking her phone, she was surprised to find it was almost five. The sun had not yet risen, and darkness still shrouded her bedroom. Climbing out of bed, she was about to go to the bathroom when she saw it.

A faint white light was hovering in the corner of her bedroom. She could not make out any form, but she felt it was a woman. She was sure of it.

Julie, my name is Julie,
drifted through her thoughts
.

“Julie, let me help you,” Sam whispered to the light.

I’m trapped.

Moving closer, the sounds from Doug’s apartment came through the wall. The light disappeared, and Sam cursed. She stood in the spot where the light had been and tried to read the energy there, but it was gone. Leaning against the wall, she heard Doug on the other side.

He was moving about, his weight making the old floorboards moan. Was he just getting in? She questioned if he had been out late for work … or with a woman.

Music was playing in the background. It was the soulful voice of a woman belting out her sad words of love. He would sing along here and there, his deep voice traveling to the pit of her gut and creating the most pleasant sensations. Was it possible for a man to seduce a woman with just his voice?

Sitting on the floor with her head against the wall, Sam thought about what it would mean to belong to a man like Doug.

What about the sex? Are you going to become that kind of woman?

She flinched at the sound of the voice in her head. It was her father’s voice. Richard Woods had been a harsh man, incapable of offering words of comfort, at least to his daughters. It had turned her sister into a beauty queen, so obsessed with perfection, she had resorted to bulimia to maintain her slim figure. Her father’s nagging, however, had turned Sam into a rebel, balking at every order he had laid down and crossing every line he had drawn in the sand.

You are a disgrace, a harlot, an abomination, and no daughter of mine.
His cruel words from the morning she had arrived home from the fraternity house still stung.

Forcing her father from her mind, she concentrated on Doug’s deep voice singing along with the soft music.

“I wonder what Aunt Gertie would have thought of you?”

The timid voice of the purple-haired aunt she had always admired floated into her head.
Life is a one-shot deal, Sam. Grab it by the balls.

“What if it’s a mistake, Gertie?”

There are no mistakes, my sweet girl, only adventures. Live yours with him.

As Gertie’s essence faded, Doug’s singing returned, once again melting her very core.

“All right, Master Morgan. Let’s see where this goes.”

*     *     *

The next day work was a blur after an eight-car pileup on the I-10 filled her ICU. Sam never got a break for lunch as she juggled between the head injury in one room and the broken pelvis in the other. Even Piper had been too busy to visit, and Sam never got a chance to share her plans with her.

By the time the elevator car stopped on the fourth floor of The Shallows, Sam was so exhausted she doubted if she could make it to her bedroom before collapsing. But when the elevator doors opened, a sudden rush of adrenaline brought her to life. Doug’s apartment door was open, and a rich jazz tune was drifting into the hallway.

She wasn’t prepared to confront him now. With little sleep the night before, a hectic day at work, and an assortment of stains on her rumpled blue scrubs, Sam was convinced she looked like death warmed over.

Deciding she needed to change and at least put on lipstick before she confronted him, Sam hugged the wall to avoid being seen. Padding across the burgundy carpet, she was inching her way closer to her apartment. When she finally reached the oak door with the gold A on it, she quietly removed her keys from her backpack. Trying not to make a sound, she slowly turned the lock. Sighing with relief as her door edged open, she snuck inside.

Leaning against her closed door, Sam plotted what to do next. She needed to get him in her apartment. Dropping her backpack on the sofa, she searched for something, anything to jog her mind. Eyeing her kitchen, Sam thought of what Brenda had said about having him come over to fix something … but what?

Her eyes fell on a cabinet door that had never closed all the way. Maybe she could use that as an excuse. Heading toward the kitchen, she kept her eyes on the cabinet door above her stainless sink. Deciding she needed to make the door look worse than it did, Sam climbed up on her countertop to give it a good tug. Then she would change, put on some makeup, and go to his place asking for his help.