MisplacedLessons (2 page)

“Crap. I hate surprises. Will you give me a hint at least?”

Harper refused. “Nope. Just remember to keep an open mind.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“You’ll see.” Harper yawned loudly. “Damn, they better start
loading this plane soon or I’m likely to fall asleep in this chair.”

“Okay. See you later, Harper.”

“Bye, Amy.”

Amy pressed End on her phone and sighed. If there was one
part of the trip she regretted, it was that she wouldn’t get to meet Harper
face-to-face.

She wondered what the surprise could be. The two of them had
shared so many secrets in the past few months, Amy couldn’t even guess what
Harper had planned for her.

A couple weeks ago they’d gotten drunk together via Skype,
and Amy had told Harper things she’d never admitted to another living soul. Amy
had been feeling sorry for herself for spending another weekend dateless and
stuck at home, so she’d consumed a bottle of wine. On a whim, she’d
drunk-Skyped Harper, surprised to find her friend also off her face.

Harper had been treating herself to early-morning birthday
Bloody Marys, indulging in the same pity party. As usual, they’d turned to each
other for company and spent nearly two hours laughing and sharing their
dirtiest sex fantasies. Amy still blushed when she recalled the detail she’d
gone into as she told Harper all about her sex-with-a-stranger dream. Of
course, considering Harper’s fantasy was to participate in a ménage, maybe they
were even in the red-hot-fantasy category.

She glanced around Harper’s room once more. She’d done it,
found her way to America. Amy had spent hours on the internet planning her
Chicago itinerary, making a list of everything she absolutely had to see before
returning home.

She reached into her back pocket and pulled out her
passport. Grinning at her foolishness, she lifted Harper’s mattress and stashed
it as Hazel’s voice came back to her. “Don’t leave that passport out in plain
sight. Someone might steal it.” Amy had asked who the blazes would want her
passport, but Hazel told her to hide it just the same, so she didn’t lose it.
Truth be told that was probably her boss’s biggest concern. She often lamented
about Amy losing her head if it wasn’t attached. So, for Hazel’s sake, she’d
keep her passport safe.

Rising from the bed, she continued exploring the upstairs
rooms, walking farther down the hall and peeking into what appeared to be a
catchall room. A treadmill covered with clothes sat next to boxes filled with
Christmas ornaments, then there was a desk and a filing cabinet. Amy’s own
elliptical back in Farpoint served the same purpose—used less for workout and
more as a clothesline.

She ventured on to the guest room where she’d left her
luggage. Though Harper would be sleeping in Amy’s bedroom—it was the only room
available in her tiny cottage—Amy didn’t feel right taking over her friend’s
space with such a warm and welcoming guest room down the hall. She stared at
her open suitcase. She should unpack, but exhaustion was kicking in. Between
layovers, flights and the taxi ride from O’Hare, she’d been traveling nonstop
for nearly twenty-seven hours. Adrenaline could only take her so far. She was
buggered.

She was about to collapse on the bed when a closed door at
the end of the hallway caught her eye. She’d missed it on her first rushed tour
of the house. Curiosity defeated tiredness.

The door was unlocked. Opening it, she stepped into the
large room—and sucked in a deep breath.

The walls seemed to mimic her bedroom back home.

The stark white paint was covered with breathtaking color
photos of some of the most beautiful places on earth. Several of the landscapes
she recognized immediately from the pictures she’d torn out of travel magazines
over the years. However, there were just as many places she’d never laid eyes
on. The familiar ache in her chest returned as she realized how much of the
world there really was to see.

This had to be Andrew’s room. No doubt he’d taken the color
shots himself, a photographic reminder of all the incredible places he’d
journeyed to.

“Lucky bastard,” she muttered jealously. The rest of the
room was equally inviting. Andrew had a king-sized bed that looked soft as a
cloud. Walking over, she ran her hand along the comforter, then the pillowcase.
Silk sheets. Holy shit. She’d always wanted to sleep in a bed with silk sheets.

The room seemed less lived in than Harper’s. The top of the
dresser was devoid of knickknacks. The books on the shelf were organized a
little too perfectly. Even the laundry basket in the corner was empty. If Amy
didn’t know Andrew lived here, she’d think this room was a second guest room.
Of course, given the fact, the man traveled most of the year and kept an
apartment in Los Angeles as well, it made sense that his room would look neater,
less inhabited.

She considered returning to the guest room then changed her
mind. According to Harper, Andrew was out of the country, spending the next
three weeks on location in the South Pacific. Amy toed off her shoes then
tugged off her blouse, jeans and panties. Stripping off her bra, she added it
to the pile of clothes beside the bed and pulled down the sheets.

One night. She’d give herself one night between the silk
sheets in the huge bed. Tomorrow, she’d move into the guest room.

Maybe.

* * * * *

Andrew Shaw pulled onto the road that led to the home he
shared with his sister and released a long sigh. He was fucking wiped out. The
last three days had been an experiment in torture when his shoot was cancelled
due to a monsoon expected to hit the island he’d intended to be make number
eight on his Best Kept Secrets show. He’d been in perpetual motion, hopping
from boat to plane to boat and then another plane before his producer called to
say they were scrapping the visit.

His phone rang, jerking him from his misery. “Fuck.” One
glance at the screen told him he wasn’t going to enjoy this phone call.

“What?” Andrew said by way of greeting.

His best friend, Mike, chuckled. “Welcome home. Is it too
soon to say I told you so?” Mike, a meteorologist, had been watching the
progression of the storm and had told him not to bother getting on the plane in
the first place.

“Yeah. It’s too soon. Besides, you assholes are never right.
How did you know I was back?”

“Tom called a few hours ago. Gave me the flight times. I
just dropped Mars off at his house and now I’m headed home.”

Mike served as dog sitter for his cameraman Tom’s mutt.
Given the amount of time Andrew and Tom were out of the country, it was
probably safer to say he and Mike were co-owners of the gigantic dog. Not that
either man seemed to mind sharing.

“From the sound of your voice, I assume it was a shitty
trip.”

Andrew switched on the windshield wipers and bit back a
curse. All this rain was starting to piss him off. “It sucked. Did you call
just to rub salt in the wound or did you want something?”

They had been friends too long for Mike to take offense at
his sharp tone. “You on your way home?”

“Of course I am. Where else would I go?”

“Thought you might blow off some steam at the club. Wondered
if you wanted company.”

Andrew had considered heading to Velvet Chains as soon as he
got off the plane at O’Hare. In the past, it wouldn’t have even been a
question. The private sex club was usually his and Tom’s first stop after a
long trip. It helped ground Andrew, relax him.

Mike had introduced him to the BDSM scene shortly after
Andrew’s twenty-first birthday. Mike’s father and uncle co-owned Velvet Chains,
so his friend had grown up around the lifestyle. Andrew had not. His first trip
had been an eye-opening, life-altering experience. Mike jokingly insisted he’d
known about Andrew’s Dom tendencies since their freshmen year in high school,
but he figured it was best to wait until Andrew was old enough to handle the
news.

Lately, however, he’d found himself becoming bored with the
action at the club. While the subs were quite pretty and more than eager to
please, he struggled to find the same pleasure, the same sense of adventure
he’d experienced in the early days.

“Thought you’d given up the club scene since settling down
with Joanne. Married life already chafing, Mike?”

Andrew could imagine the goofy grin on his friend’s face at
hearing the name of his wife. Since getting married, Mike had adopted the
annoying theory that Andrew needed to take a walk down the aisle too if he ever
planned to be happy.

“I’d just be going for a drink. Joanne trusts me. Although
knowing my sexy girl, she’d probably insist on coming with me.”

Mike had met Joanne at Velvet Chains. There’d been no doubt
the moment the two laid eyes on each other they were meant to be together.
Though Andrew felt twinges of jealousy over his friend’s newfound contentment,
there was no way he’d admit it.

Andrew released a weary sigh. “I’m not going out tonight.”

Mike was silent for just a moment. “Good.”

Andrew felt his temper spike again. Mike had subjected him
to too many lectures about his bachelor status, insisting it was time Andrew
gave up his one-night stands with strangers and started looking for a serious
girlfriend. Mike could be relentless when he got an idea in his head. As it
was, he’d tried to set Andrew up no less than a dozen times the past few months
with friends of Joanne’s who would be “perfect for him”. So far Andrew had
refused every date.

“Don’t start,” Andrew warned, well aware of where the
conversation was going. He’d rather hear what a fool he’d been to hop on a
flight headed straight for a monsoon than be subjected to more haranguing about
settling down.

“Hear me out. There’s this friend of Joanne’s we’d like you
to meet.”

Andrew gritted his teeth. “Mike—” he started.

“Before you start making excuses, I really think you should
agree to a blind date with Amy. She’s exactly your type. Pretty, submissive,
sexy as sin. You’ll love her.”

“Not interested.”

Mike released a long, slow breath.

If there was one thing Andrew and his friend were perfectly
matched in, it was stubbornness.

“Fine.” Mike’s tone told Andrew he was far from finished,
but at least his friend knew him well enough to leave it alone tonight. Even
so, he wasn’t sure Mike had ever relented so quickly. Andrew must sound more
exhausted than he thought.

Andrew turned into his driveway and felt a sense of relief.
He was home. His own bed was close. All he needed was to sleep twenty-four
hours or so, and then he’d be back in fighting shape. “Listen. I’m home now.
I’ll call you tomorrow. Maybe we can get together this weekend and take in a
White Sox game or something.”

“Sounds good. Get some rest.” Mike clicked off with a quick
goodbye.

Andrew grabbed his suitcase from the trunk and tiredly
walked to the front porch. The house was dark. Harper had left town shortly
after he’d taken off for his ill-fated trip, attending some sort of teachers’
conference in Minneapolis over spring break. He hoped her mini-vacation was
fairing better than his had. He couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to spend their
time off doing what was the equivalent of more work, but Harper was nothing if
not a devoted teacher. He felt the same sense of pride that filled him whenever
he thought of his baby sister. She was the only family he had left in the world
and he adored her.

Locking the door behind him, he climbed the stairs in the
quiet house, not bothering to turn on a light. He’d grown up in this place,
knew it by heart. He treaded lightly on the third step to avoid the creak, even
though he knew he was the only one home. Some habits were so tightly engrained
they never left.

He glanced through the open door to Harper’s bedroom as he
passed, the room bright with moonlight. As expected, her bed was empty. He paused
briefly, missing her. She seldom went anywhere, so when she wasn’t home, he
felt her absence deeply. It was going to be a lonely week here without her
bubbly, energetic presence. He’d considered going on to L.A. to stay in his own
apartment, but he’d felt the urge to spend some time in his hometown.

Continuing down the hallway, he didn’t stop until he reached
his own room. The second he crossed the threshold, the hair on the back of his
neck stood up.

Something wasn’t right.

He quietly placed his luggage on the floor, forcing his eyes
to adjust to the darkness. The curtains in Harper’s room had been open, but his
were drawn. The lack of moonlight left him blind.

Taking a few cautious steps into the room, he made his way
to the window. Someone was here. He could feel it. Reaching toward the wall, he
found his baseball bat. He’d played third base on his high school team, but
he’d hung up his mitt shortly after heading to college. However, he’d never
gotten rid of the bat, the hard wood now serving as the weapon he’d kept in the
corner of his room for years.

Once he wrapped his hand around the bat, he drew it up,
ready to swing. There wasn’t any movement in the room, but he could definitely
hear someone breathing near the bed. Approaching slowly, he almost tripped over
something on the floor. As his gaze adjusted to the dark, he noticed the pile
of clothing at his feet, then he managed to make out a lump in his bed.

What the hell?

Someone was in his bed, and given their deep, relaxed
breathing, they were sound asleep. Turning back to the window, he quietly
parted the curtains, anxious for some light. The person never stirred. Andrew
kept the bat raised as he retuned to the bed.

With the moonlight shining in, he could see much clearer—and
was shocked at the image of a naked woman in his bed.

He glanced around to confirm they were alone. The rest of
his room looked normal, nothing touched or disturbed. The only thing out of
place was the beauty who’d taken up residence between his silk sheets.