Dirty Boy (41 page)

COMING SOON © 2016 Kathryn Kelly

Text subject to change

Breakfast, Bedlam & BDSM

Chapter One

"What you're asking me to do isn't legal, Jillian," Howard Gibson began in worried tones. He sat in a burgundy leather chair behind his desk in Commons Bank.

"Right, Howard!" In spite of her brave facade, Jillian moved in her seat, restless beneath the banker's slight disapproval. Howard was her best friend's husband, and somehow, together, they’d convince him to help her. “It may not be scrupulous to grant me three extra months beyond the deadline on the loan papers—”

"Which, may I remind you, Jilly, expired more than thirty days ago.”

Jillian recalled Douglas mentioning that to her before he’d bailed and after he’d used a lot of their money to turn one of the rooms in the bed and breakfast into a BDSM chamber. “You're the bank president, Howard," she snapped, annoyed any thought of Douglas would invade her. It annoyed her even more that not only had he left her in the lurch, but he'd also accused her of being prudish and sexually stunted. “The buck stops with you. And I’d hoped you were my friend also.”

"Of course, I'm your friend, Jilly," Howard bit out and guilt rushed through her.

Her bad mood, thanks to invading thoughts of Douglas, was rubbing off on Howard. If she didn’t settle herself down, she and Howard would descend into a full blown argument, which would then create an argument between her and Marley.

“You know the law as well as
I
do, Jillian,” he pointed out unnecessarily. Both her parents were corporate attorneys and business owners. “In less than three months, the bank will foreclose on the Breakfast Nook.”

The Breakfast Nook did sound outdated, like something from a 50s sitcom. Maybe, Douglas had had a point. He’d wanted to change the name to Breakfast & BDSM. Jillian thought that was the most ridiculous name she’d ever heard.

On top of her increasing indecision, as she listened to Howard and the status of her loan, she was also regretting questioning Howard's friendship, solely out of desperation. Help from her parents was out of the question. Their fallout began years ago when they'd made it plain she was on her own when she’d decided not to follow in their footsteps and go into law. Getting with Douglas had fractured their relationship completely. Since Douglas had absconded with the last of their combined savings a few weeks ago, she'd nearly pulled her hair from her scalp trying to think ways to save her inn.

Bed and breakfasts had so much competition. Like anything in the age of social media, it took relentless campaigning to compete.

She couldn't give up. She
wouldn't
give up. Not now, after she’d expanded to turn her bed and breakfast into an inn with an as-yet-secret BDSM room. Should she open that up? Wouldn’t that require extra regulations? Her adorable little hotel that she wanted to cater to families would become synonymous with kink. Even worse, she didn’t have a clue about how any of that stuff in the room worked.

Handcuffs were relatively simple, so that was a no-brainer. So were the eye masks. It was the other stuff that left her scratching her head.

Her mind racing, Jillian glanced around the elegant surroundings of Howard’s office. The mahogany desk gleamed from the sun's reflection bouncing off its polished top. Thick carpeting seemed plush enough to sleep on. Colorful draperies hung on the panoramic window where she studied the cars zooming down Harrison Avenue as they headed toward Bayou St.  John. Magnolia leaves blossomed on tall trees, sharing space with even taller palms and stately maple trees. Blue skies lent serenity to the late April afternoon. Hurricane Katrina changed a lot of things. Yet, after over ten years, a lot of New Orleans was back with a vengeance, indicated by new structures, continued rebuilding, flourishing neutral grounds, and growing traffic.

At wit's end, Jillian tapped her fingers on the arm of the chair. Her gaze met Howard's, and he drew in a heavy sigh.              

"All right.”  He rubbed his temples and ran a hand over his bald head. “All right, Jilly. You win," he admitted. “Because of the…the Douglas Incident, I'll grant you the extension. But no more than three months, mind you.”

If he only knew everything involved in the Douglas Incident.

Relieved at Howard’s decision, Jillian bounded from her seat. Howard stood as she rushed toward him and flung her arms around his neck.

"Thank you, Howie.”  She kissed him on the jaw. “You've never disappointed me, and I promise I won't disappoint you.”

Returning her hug, Howard chuckled. “I know you'll do your best not to.”  He cleared his throat as she stepped back.  “Er…um…has there been any word from Douglas?"

"Not so far," Jillian answered with disdain. “There's just so far Douglas Hogan can run before someone spots him. The thieving scumbag!"

"But are you all right?"

"Howard!"  She rolled her eyes at the man. Under the circumstances, how
could
she be all right?  The hurt and disappointment over not marrying Douglas gave way to impotent anger that he was both a pervert and a thief.

"I'm sorry I brought it up. I always seem to say the wrong thing where you and Doug are concerned. I-I mean the guy's got a good heart. He just needs to grow up.”

Jillian gaped at him. A good heart?  How could he say that?  Douglas had
no
heart at all, and he wasn't a child. Howard knew enough about the situation: Douglas had fooled her into trusting him enough to accept his marriage proposal, then cleaned their bank account. Snatching her purse from the side of the chair, then starting for the door, she shook her head in disbelief. "I'll be in touch," she grumbled.

"Good. Good.”

"Say hello to Marley for me.”

"Will do. So long, Jilly.”

"So long.”

Her mind cluttered with things she’d prefer cluttering something else, Jillian made her way outside, got into her late-model Honda Accord and started the ignition. After a careful check of traffic, she made a U-turn on Harrison and went to Canal Boulevard.

Glancing at the clock on the dashboard, she saw she had twenty minutes to get home to meet the contractor coming to the Breakfast Nook to give her an estimate for needed remodeling in the kitchen, the only thing left to finish before Douglas's departure. The sleazebag. Every time she thought of how much she’d trusted him, she cringed. Because of his treachery, she’d never give her trust again.

Fifteen minutes later, Jillian turned into her driveway of the bed and breakfast inn directly across the street from the lush greenery of Palmer Park, off Carrollton Avenue, where she lived and worked. She wondered how much longer she’d be able to do either. At the moment, couples occupied all eight bedrooms, and with no money to continue to pay her help, she’d have to go it alone. 

Although the name of her establishment was ‘The Breakfast Nook’, Jillian’s place had just recently become a full-service inn. She now served light lunches on request, and gourmet dinners as part of guest packages. Just what she’d had in mind when she and Douglas opened the bed and breakfast—expansion. They’d had dreams together, talked about expanding The Breakfast Nook to make it an inn, possibly even having several locations in the Gulf region. Those conversations had been long and detailed, fueling her imagination and her need to succeed on her own. They’d even debated on a name, settling upon The Breakfast Nook after much discussion. Since she’d put up the bulk of the money, she could’ve named it after herself. ‘Jillian’s Haven’ had appealed to her. But, in consideration of her slimy partner and lover, she ha
dn’t wished to appear selfish.

Parking her car and getting out, she noticed a yellow van stopped near the curb in front. Jillian halted her steps as a man opened the van door and exited the vehicle. Seeming displeased, he began walking toward her.

Jillian glanced at the sign on the van. 'Town and Country Builders and Remodelers' stood out in bold, black letters.  Chewing on her lower lip, she looked at her watch. She had two minutes to spare, so what was
his
problem?

"Hello," she said when he reached her side.

Annoyance cooled the golden flecks in the stranger's light brown eyes. He ignored her greeting. “Are you Jillian Riley?" he growled.

"Yes." Jillian raised her chin and stiffened her spine. Her head barely reached his chin and corded muscles bunched beneath the white T-shirt covering his broad shoulders, but she wanted to let him know he couldn't intimidate her. “Who wishes to know?"

"Miss Riley, this is the second trip I've made here in the last hour. This damn time, I've been waiting for you for twenty minutes. I don't like to be kept waiting—”

A hint of his woodsy aftershave and fresh scent caught on the breeze. “Then why did you?" Jillian retorted.

"I wanted to see what kind of person makes appointments, then breaks them with no regard to the time involved.”

"I beg your pardon? I scheduled an appointment at this hour with your company. Someone is confused. Perhaps you'd better recheck your appointment book, or, maybe, call your boss for instructions.”

He snorted and, dipping his head, smiled without humor, then dug his hand into his T-shirt pocket and retrieved a small notepad.

Jillian glared at him as he flipped through the pages. The bright sun glinted off his hair, highlighting the russet color. His eyebrows were heavy and neat, his eyelashes thick and long, accentuating the elegant bridge of his nose and square jaw. 

The color in his face changed from the beautiful tan she told herself to ignore to a dark burgundy.

Aha! Look at his expression. He realizes he was wrong and you were right.

Awaiting his apology, she folded her arms and tapped her foot, her heel clicking against the pavement. The man stroked his jaw and looked past her, his expression resembling a little boy with his hand caught in the cookie jar, one she wanted to take to her breast and comfort.

Excuse me. He
isn’t
a kid.
             

Watching him search for a way out of his embarrassment, a moment's pity surfaced. His gaze remained focused on the park across the street and Jillian scolded herself.

Why should I care if he embarrassed himself
? 

He was a rude, ill-mannered jerk, who deserved everything she'd said, for his high-handed attitude.

"Miss Riley," he began. His voice had a rugged depth. “You must think I'm a rude, ill-mannered jerk.”

Her rigid composure slipping away at his words, Jillian raised her eyebrows, stifling the urge to drop her mouth open in surprise.
Did he honestly say that without reading my mind?

"I'm a good man. I knew I had an appointment with a Miss Jillian Riley today. But I got the time mixed up and didn't bother to check. I've had a pretty rough morning, and the afternoon doesn't seem to be looking much better. I've made two trips to Slidell, had van problems, and missed a meeting to go to. But you don't want to hear this.”

Nope, sure don’t
.  She didn't want to hear it, since she believed him. Besides, his horrible afternoon wasn't her concern. He was there to do a job for her. He wasn't there to take up housekeeping with her.