Penned (3 page)

He cocked his head, and moonlight hit his dark, blue eyes. “Okay. Maybe another time? Nice place you have here. I wanted to drive by before, but I stopped myself.”

She swallowed over a lump in her throat, admiring his stubbled jawline. “Yeah, thanks. Write me a letter. I'll come to your house if you invite me again. I promise.” Pam leaned against the door, dizziness and a twinge of mad desire coming over her.

I'm insane. Totally insane.

He smiled. “I'll do that, and I'll expect you to come this time. Pammy, I really am sorry I couldn't make things work with you the first time around. I mean to make up for it now.” Renn touched fingers to his lips and pressed his hand to the door.

Pam closed her eyes as he turned and walked down the drive. Heat coursed through her, and desire made her lean against the door for a moment to catch her breath.

What have I done? I can't turn back now.

                                                                                    * * * *

The letter came four days later.

Dear Pam,

              It was so good to talk with you the other day. Your voice—I've missed it so much. It was a little different than I remember—throatier, even sexier than it used to be. But then, it always was attractive. So, let's say this coming Friday at eight. Let's do dessert. I'll take care of the whipped cream.

                                                                                                                ~Renn

Pam groaned. “I have to go through with it. He came to see me, and I can't lie like that... not again.” The thought of the man who'd stood outside her door slew her.

She tried to put him out of her mind for the rest of the week.

The night of her date, she chose a red cocktail dress and matching sexy heels. Her underthings were black and lacy, complete with garters and hose.

She stumbled after she slid the heels on and took a step.

“This is hopeless.”

Fluffems narrowed his eyes at her.

Pam practiced her walk for a few more minutes, until she could glide across the room without tripping over her own feet. Satisfied, she spent time making up her face—bright, red lipstick and a classic look.

“Might as well go out with a bang,” she murmured. “Though I don't look half-bad.”

Before she could talk herself out of it, Pam left the house, fully charged cell phone in her bag and money in case she needed it.

The phone rang as she got into the car, tripping into the front seat.

“What?” she barked at Janey.

“Just wishing you luck with getting whatever it is you really want.”

Pam started the car. “What I really want? Happiness, I guess.”

“Happiness is a sexy man with all the right moves.” Janey laughed.

“Yeah, I think so after all the not-so-hot guys I've been with over the years, and this guy, well, he's definitely something different.” She bit her lip, glancing down the street as she pulled out of the driveway.

“Good. Then go get 'im, girl.”

“I plan to.” She pressed the gas harder, squaring her shoulders.

.

                                                                                    * * * *

The house looked normal enough for a huge mansion with a fancy fence around it and a gate that prohibited entry.

It's big. Whoever Renn is, he's wealthy, and he must be a bit reclusive.

White brick and mint green shutters beckoned her through the autumn night. Her skin prickled as she got out of the car. She'd parked it as near the closed gate as she could on the street.

She could hardly breathe.

A mailbox jutted out.

The name Milton was etched on it.

Then everything clicked, and she squealed in the quiet night air.

Renn Milton. He's a millionare who just moved here.

It had been in all the papers when he'd moved to town just a couple months back, but he'd always worn sunglasses and held something up over his face for photos.

She frowned.
Then why didn't he know I was the wrong Pam Smith?

Then she sucked in a breath.

Maybe he'd heard his Pam Smith lived in town—had moved there since he's last been in a relationship with her years ago—and he'd contacted the wrong woman?

Whatever had happened, there was a major case of mistaken identity going on.

And I could have set him straight when he showed up at my door, but I didn't.

Rumors of him being a handsome, young playboy floated into her mind. They'd never moved in the same circles, so she'd only laid eyes on him for more than a few seconds the night he'd shown up at her door.

I must be nuts. He's definitely too young for me. At least, I'm sure he'll think so.

She tottered up to the gate on wobbly legs, all her walking practice worthless, as if it had never happened.

This is a stupid idea. I should turn around and go home. He's just playing with me. He has to be.

Pam's breath came in great gusts. A black box with a button and speaker invited her to talk.

She frowned and pressed the button.

Nothing.

She stood there for a moment, torn.

Stay or go? What must his house be like? And why me—the wrong Pam Smith?

A voice took her out of the reverie.

“Yes?” A hint of a teasing note filled it.

“I'm here. It's Pam.” She forced the words out as her fingers went numb.

I haven't been this nervous since the sixth-grade dance.
And that was a disaster. She grimaced.

“Of course. The gates will open in a sec. James will lead you in, and I'll meet you in the pleasure dome. It's been little used since our time together.”

Pleasure dome? Oh, my God. I must be insane. He's probably some sick, twisted pervert.

Something told Pam he didn't mean the kind of pleasure dome that Coleridge had written about. Her breath hitched at the thought.

“Okay.” She bit her lip, unable to say anything else.

This can't be real. I'm at Renn Milton's house, and I'm about to be his dessert. Until he sees me and realizes I'm the wrong Pam Smith.

A shiver of desire ran through her as the gates swung wide, their hinges silent.

Pam walked up the driveway, her legs like wobbly sticks. The thirty yards to the door made for an eternity or what seemed like one.

“Damn him. He's putting me at a disadvantage. Their relationship must have been... interesting,” she muttered as she reached the front door. She took a moment to smooth her dress and straighten her hair.

When she knocked with the ancient–looking, brass wolf knocker, she winced at the reverberation.

After a few seconds, the door swung open.

Not who James expected to see, I bet.

“Ms. Smith. Welcome.” James wiped the surprised look off his face quickly.

“Yes, thank you.” She tried to smile, but her lips wouldn't cooperate.

“This way. Mr. Milton will be with you shortly.”

Pam had no time to take in the gleaming surfaces of marble and dark wood or the plush carpets. The whole place screamed money and taste. She pinched herself as she walked slowly behind the servant in formal dress. They made their way down a long hallway clear to the end. James opened a door on the right and led her up a flight of steps.

Kinky. He has his own pleasure dome at the top of the house.

She'd noticed a tower room.

Oh my God.  What a view it must have.

Her face grew warm at the thought, her palms slick.

“Here we are. Mr. Milton will join you shortly. Make yourself at home.” James opened an ornate door at the top of the steps, letting only a tantalizing peek of dim light through.

“Thank you.” Pam cleared her throat, eager to see the room in spite of her nervousness.

James bowed again and pivoted away, down the steps.

She clutched at her handbag.

Yep, cell phone's still there in case Renn Milton really is a superfreak I need to get away from quickly.

She pushed the door open, and it gave way in silence.

The light of what seemed like a thousand candles illuminated the darkness of the space. No other lamp or overhead light burned. The plush, gold-toned carpet whispered under her heels.

A dark wood, four poster bed with a plush, silken green comforter lay beyond. Pam closed her mouth when she realized she was gaping like a fish out of water. She scanned the rest of the room and noticed a fancy bar, gorgeous rugs, and plush chairs.

And toys.

She swallowed.

I'm too old and out of practice for this kinkiness.

Against the wall, there were shiny handcuffs, a whip, and other toys.

“Wow. He's a freak.” She reached for her handbag and started rifling through it.

She’d call Janey and tell her she was leaving there and that if she didn’t call her back in fifteen minutes to get the cops there. Her breath came in nervous gasps as she finally found the cell phone in her purse.

Just as she started to dial, music filled the room.

Something soft and sensual.

A ballad by Paul McCartney?

She stifled a giggle. At least they had similar taste.

“Pam.” She jumped when a voice filled the room, low and seductive over the music.

She said nothing, her throat dry as an old bone.

Searching the shadows, she wondered where he could be. There was obviously some sort of speaker that funneled sound into the room.

She shivered at the thought.

Can he see me too?

“Don't be afraid. You know this chamber was made for you and me. It's our pleasure dome—just like the one we had before.”

Her breath came in harsh gasps now as she noticed twinkling lights below from the windows that covered one wall.

“At least stay for dessert. It's on the table in the corner. Take your pick. I'll join you shortly. I can't wait to see you.” The naked desire and sweetness in his voice made her shudder, and she closed her eyes.

Oh, to be treasured like his Pam is.

She stood as if nailed to the spot as a minute passed.

“Aw, what the hell? He doesn't sound like a serial killer, and when have I ever passed up dessert?” She walked over to the small table in a far corner, her legs wobbly.

A glass of champagne sat waiting for her. Her eyes grew wide at the array of sweets on a tray. Decadent cheesecake, some kind of cream puff, chocolate mousse, and others beckoned her. She sat down in the plush chair and pulled it up to the table.

At least I'll die with a full stomach.

She took a third from each dessert, looking around once. Guilt stole over her, but she shook it off.

I'll just have dessert, meet him, and then beg off with a headache once he realizes there's been a terrible misunderstanding.

She picked at the sweets even though they were amazing. Her nerves wouldn't let her appreciate them. The room grew a bit dimmer as some of the candles guttered. The music played on as she put down her fork.

I wonder if Renn will be making his appearance soon.

Before she could muse further on the possibility, a warm hand clapped over her mouth, and she felt someone covering her eyes with a sash.

More than one someone.

For a moment, Pam was too shocked to try to fight back. Then she kicked out.

“Whoa, there, darling. I thought you liked this game.” Warm breath tickled her ear, and Pam shivered as hands came around her ankles, stilling her struggle. She flailed out with her hands, and then a silk strip wound around them as well, tying them together.

I have to get out of here.

Panic grew inside her as a sash slithered around her ankles. She moaned against the warm hand.

Footsteps moved away, and the door closed.

His helpers are gone.

A blush moved over her whole body at the thought.

“Shh. In just a moment, I'll have you in bed. I know what you want.”

A thrill of excitement raced up Pam's spine in spite of the situation. The hand moved from her mouth, and a knotted cloth quickly replaced it. A pair of strong arms scooped her up. She inhaled her handler's clean scent, and her stomach coiled with desire.

Is this really happening, and is it going to continue? Doesn't he realize I'm not the Pam he thinks I am?

“You've put on a little weight, Pam. I like it, though you're a bit pale.”