Naughty Wishes Part II (11 page)

By closing her eyes, she was able to hear Geoff and Chris better. She only heard the occasional word, but it was their voices that mattered. They were talking to Troy, because she heard his voice in the mix. Geoff was asking most of the questions, but Chris interjected a key sentence here or there that she could tell altered the direction and focus, helping to shape whatever they were trying to accomplish. She’d watched Chris and Geoff cook dinner together plenty of times, and the same dynamic happened there as well. Geoff would have the master plan for the meal, but Chris’s improvisations would sculpt the end result. She wondered if it would be the same when they finally took her body at the same time, both of them inside her.

The power of positive thinking. She’d thought “when,” not “if.”

Since getting herself worked up like a furnace wasn’t immediately productive, she turned her mind to a more amusing memory of them making dinner together. She’d been told she had to stay out of the way, that they wanted her to do nothing but relax. So she sat on the couch and pretended to read a book, all while watching how the two of them worked with each other, listening to the things they talked about. Geoff had been discussing a case.

“. . . this guy is a complete nutbag. But because he’s allowed to represent himself, the judge gives him twice as much time. Today he brought in one of those little cymbal-clapping monkeys to explain something about his constitutional rights. So when we recessed for lunch, I picked up a handful of wind-up hopping penises at Spencer’s.”

“Now you’re shitting me.” Chris chuckled. “The judge would have busted your ass.”

“Yes, she would have. But she tends to be late, so we were seated a good ten minutes before she returned. I kept one bouncing in circles on the desk. Jennings pulled out the second one and we got into it, racing them from one end of the desk to the other. I asked Mr. Nutbag if he wanted to lay odds on who hit the end of the desk first, and told him I had a third one if he wanted to play, too. If looks could kill . . .”

“Jesus, man.”

“The court reporter was losing it. I put them away as the judge came out, but nothing gets by Judge Roberts. She gives me a look and says, ‘Mr. Tywin, I can assure you that I have confiscated more than one penis in this room. I will not hesitate to take yours.’”

Chris roared with laughter. “Man, the last time I stopped in to hear you try a case, it was some boring crap about a bunch of paperwork that was filed incorrectly. You have to give me a heads-up on this stuff.”

“I can’t predict my moments of genius.”

Having a chance to listen or watch them when she wasn’t an active part of the interaction was a particular indulgence. Even if she could only hear a word or two of their conversation, like now, because they were a couple of aisles away from her.

When overhearing a conversation between strangers, there was a tendency to be discreet about it, to pretend one wasn’t listening. But she had a right to listen to them, to be an intimate part of their lives. She was still part of the conversation, even without being there. And she liked this, not being distracted by the need to contribute. She could absorb them through her senses—hearing, sight, smell—and
embrace the simple joy of just that.

They came into view then. Chris was listening to what Troy was telling them, his gaze periodically flicking to Geoff as they exchanged silent cues of agreement or marked the significance of something they were being told. Geoff had his back to her, but his arms were crossed over his chest, feet planted shoulder width. Chris had one hand on the top of a display rack, his other hooked into his pants pocket as he stood in a similar cocked-hip stance, listening. His gaze shifted briefly, found her, and she smiled.

He didn’t smile back. His gaze stayed on her, though. She sensed he was still listening to the conversation, but he apparently wanted his eyes directed right where they were. A little self-conscious, she smoothed her jeans over her knees. Now a serious smile did touch his lips.

She’d been surer of her footing with Geoff, though her fantasies had fallen short of all the possibilities, a thrilling thought. Chris’s expression as he looked at her now was an intriguing mix. He wanted to take her again, wanted her naked and under him. She could read that clearly enough, and it made her hands curl on her knees. Yet she also thought he wanted to scoop her up and keep her safe, tend to her in all the ways that defined the word
cherish
.

Geoff said something and Chris turned his attention back to him. She’d been holding her breath again, she realized. It made her chuckle at herself. Taking a sip of her coffee, she picked up one of the paperback romances. It was an older historical, with the clench pose on the front. A woman whose heaving breasts were barely contained by her bodice was being held by a virile-looking male whose look said he planned to do away with that bodice and the rest of her clothing quite immediately.

She volunteered for a humane society that had a thrift shop with an extensive paperback book collection, so she was very familiar with those poses. She preferred them to the modern-day ones that would use a hint of a body behind a flower or a bit of lace. They were as romantic and sexy as a doorknob, whereas this . . . It didn’t matter that it was overly dramatic. She could close her eyes and imagine being that heroine, her knees already giving way because she knew he was strong enough to hold her, that she could surrender everything to him . . .

She wasn’t stupid. She knew that was fantasy, that no one could surrender everything to anyone full-time. She could and would take care of herself. Because of that, she knew her feelings for Chris and Geoff weren’t rooted in how they’d appeared at the right moment, stopping Anthony, her stalker ex-boyfriend, from whatever terrible end he might have planned. It was everything else they’d done since, in her day-to-day life. Things that had won her trust. That trust would allow her to give them control when the moment called for it, when surrender was an option that could free her soul, without fear of abdicating her right to run her own life.

“It’s funny. When I initially put a copy of
Newsweek
or the
New Yorker
over here, I could tell a lot of women felt like they
had
to pick those up and completely ignore the
People
magazine or the romance novels. But by only having those choices, pretty much all of them will page through them while waiting for their husbands or boyfriends. At least once or twice I’ll see them smile, like you’re doing now.”

She opened her eyes, and her heart rate bumped up in an altogether pleasant way. She’d only met Logan Scott briefly, when she was in the hardware store last time, but Sam could completely understand why he was the one changing Madison’s life. She’d even felt a vicarious thrill on Madison’s behalf when the shop
owner let Logan’s name slip.

The hardware store owner was hitting a sexy and rugged forty. With broad shoulders and a strong-boned frame, the whole package was displayed well in jeans, work shoes and a chamois shirt that outlined his powerful upper body. But it was the energy around him, and the measuring look in his molasses-colored eyes, a darker brown than Chris’s, which elevated her heart rate.

Maybe it was because Sam was getting more in touch with her submissive side that she recognized Logan as a Dom right off. One who’d completely embraced that identity and made it a vital part of who he was. This was very likely what Geoff would be when he grew up, so to speak. Since Geoff could overwhelm Sam now, she understood why Madison had looked a little overcome when talking about Logan.

She’d met some tops on her visits to private BDSM parties with Flo, men who wore their sexual Dominance like a hat they took off when they left the club or bedroom. That worked for them and their partners. However, she expected being a Master was like breathing for Logan Scott. Something he was and did without conscious thought. Geoff gave off those vibes as well.

“Hello,” she said. “Sorry, I was just daydreaming.”

“No need for a beautiful woman to apologize for that, especially if who she’s daydreaming about will benefit from it.” He winked. “The ladybug gloves are a good choice for you. You might consider a second pair. They’re on sale individually, but if you buy two, I’ll knock twenty percent off the second pair in addition to the sale price. I have an overstock.”

“I liked the lavender ones with the butterflies. I’ll get those as well.”

He waved her off as she started to get up. “No rush. Just wanted to mention it to you and make sure you didn’t have any other questions. Troy and I are here to help you if there’s anything you need.”

“Okay. Um . . .”

He’d started to ease back, a considerate shop owner, but stopped at her hesitation. His shrewd eyes studied her, then followed her gaze to Geoff and Chris and back. “Madison sometimes has me talk to her clients about their interests,” he said carefully. “So I’m also available for non-hardware-related questions, if you have one you think I can answer.”

Yeah, the man definitely had well-tuned radar. “I was wondering . . .”

If she’d read the signals wrong from both him and Madison, she was about to mortally embarrass herself, but she was on a roll lately on asserting herself in risky ways, so why should she stop now? “One of them is like you, without a doubt. The other one, I can’t tell. I think the key to Chris is Geoff, but they’re circling each other like wolves who are crossing paths for the first time. Yet they’ve known each other forever. It makes me worry that I’m going to . . .”

She paused, struggling with it. Logan sat down in the chair across from her. He didn’t prompt her, didn’t seem impatient. He was just waiting, listening with senses that she thought went far beyond his ears. It flustered her even as it gave her the courage to continue.

“Geoff says there’s nothing I need to do, that I can’t push. That they have to work it out, that Chris has to work it out. I sort of get that, but it’s not my thing to sit back and wait to see if something is going to go the right way or crash and burn. If it crashes and burns, how do I know that my not doing anything didn’t
contribute to that? I love them, and I’m so afraid of hurting them, but I tell myself that’s pointless, because the gate’s wide-open now, the horses all out of the barn. I might as well just let them run, right? Or should I try to chase them down and get them going in the right direction?”

A smile had slowly grown on Logan’s face as the words spilled out. Now she took a breath. “Talk about the gate being wide-open,” she said lamely. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” He leaned forward, knees spread and wrists loosely resting on them. He had long, thick brown hair tied back off his shoulders. It reminded her of Adrian Paul’s in the Highlander series. “Sometimes we answer questions just by saying them out loud,” he said. “But it probably is going to crash and burn. Not just once, but quite a few times.”

Gee, thanks. I feel loads better.
He shook his head and touched her knee in reassurance. “Sometimes that’s how you figure out what will work,” he said. “You love them. It’s the love that will keep you working toward it. While love can sometimes be about maintaining status quo, overall, love isn’t a stagnant force. If it’s real, it grows and changes with the people involved.”

His look was thoughtful. “Geoff told you to let it be. Am I right?”

“Yes sir—I mean, yes.” She turned scarlet. His expression and tone had shifted, steady and even in a way that she recognized all too well. It was merely a Southern courtesy to address someone as
sir
or
ma’am
, and he was probably about fifteen years older than her, but that wasn’t what had prompted it.

Help, I’ve found out I’m a sub and I can’t turn it off.

Logan moved on smoothly. “So if he’s told you to let it be, and the two of
them have a long history, trust your Master.”

Hearing someone else call Geoff that gave her a delightful little flutter, but her tart response was out before she could bite it back.

“That’s just what I’d expect another Master to say.”

Logan’s sexy smile would scatter any breathing woman’s brain cells. “You may be right about that. But it doesn’t mean I’m not right. Trust your instincts, not your fears. The trick is knowing which is which.”

“Logan?” Troy approached, giving her a courteous nod. “These two guys have a question I think you’re the better one to answer. It’s about building . . . furniture.”

Logan glanced at him, then over his shoulder at Geoff and Chris. Geoff looked Sam’s way with a
Doing okay?
smile. The smile she sent back had extra wattage, not only answering the question but reacting to Logan and Geoff’s expressions side by side. The Dom quality was as evident as a brand stamp, though the models were deliciously different.

“All right,” Logan told his employee. Then he looked at her. “All good here?”

“Yes,” she said, though she was wondering what furniture Geoff and Chris were considering in that book. “Thank you,” she said.

“Good luck.” He touched her knee again. “Have fun with it. That’s almost as important as anything else when you’re getting started. Love has more room to figure things out when we don’t take ourselves too seriously. Learning to let go is tough. For particularly stubborn subs, the only way to do that is to tie them up and teach them to let go. I might share that tidbit with these gentlemen, see what they
can do with it.”

At that outrageous statement, he winked and rose. When he left them, Troy’s eyes danced. “It completely blows your concentration when they say things like that, doesn’t it?”

She blew out an exaggerated breath in agreement and earned his chuckle, which left her grinning as he retreated to help other customers. It was fun to play—and commiserate—with another sub, another new experience for her. Okay. Worry less and have fun with it. Maybe she should tattoo that on her hands so she’d remember it.

She blanched as she saw Logan talking to Geoff and Chris and motioning to something on the wall. An old-fashioned buggy whip. While Geoff and Chris discussed whatever Logan had just told them, the store owner tossed her a look over his shoulder, full of mischief. She narrowed her gaze at him, even as her heart pounded a little faster and her hands got damp. Surely he hadn’t suggested . . . but what if he had?