ROAR (56 page)

Something else to discuss with—

“Smells delicious.” She turned to find Kristoffer in the doorway. He entered and crossed the room to stand beside her. If her hands hadn’t been greasy with prosciutto, she’d have given him a hug. He seemed relaxed and carefree. She wondered what he and Dad had discussed, but wouldn’t ask here. There was plenty of time to talk on the ride home.

“I told you Monica’s an excellent cook. She taught me a lot of what I know.”

Her stepmother’s tears had dried up, and she beamed at Pamela. “Thank you, honey. I wish Whitney had enjoyed spending time in the kitchen as much as you did. Those are moments I’ll always treasure between the two of us. Who knows?” she asked as she dried her hands on a towel and arranged the wrapped spears on a cooking tray. “Maybe I’ll be able to enjoy doing that again with my granddaughter—or grandson.”

Pamela turned to Kristoffer. “Monica and Dad are expecting their first grandchild in six months.”

“Congratulations, Monica.” Kristoffer’s attention quickly returned to Pamela, perhaps trying to gauge whether she had any strong emotions about the news one way or another.

She smiled up at him. “I’ll be a favorite aunt. Okay, perhaps the only aunt, but that baby is going to be spoiled rotten with love if the Jeffreys have anything to say about it.”

Kristoffer stroked her back, and she leaned into his hand. “What can I do to help you ladies?”

“Not a thing,” Monica said, back to her old self and in command of her domain. “Men don’t belong in the kitchen. Pamela and I have everything under control here. Let Bryce know we’ll be finished here in about five minutes, if you don’t mind.”

He gave Pamela a look silently asking her to confirm she was okay, and she nodded almost imperceptibly, but apparently he was satisfied enough to smile before leaving the room. She felt cherished when he checked on her that way.

She and Monica spent the next fifteen minutes moving like a well-oiled machine with Monica arranging the appetizers on trays while Pamela placed the warm rolls she’d just pulled from the oven into a basket she covered with a linen napkin. Lifting that and the large salad bowl, she carried them to the dining room where the table had already been set. Kristoffer and Dad joined her, the latter carrying a covered platter and a plate of four foil-covered baked potatoes.

“The steaks smell wonderful, Dad.” He smiled as he expertly opened the bottle of Cab Monica brought in along with the appetizers. He poured each a glass. Kristoffer would probably have some wine now that it was being consumed with food.

“You seem to be a wine connoisseur, Kristoffer,” Dad remarked.

“One of the few hobbies I’ve been able to indulge in the past few years.”

Pamela searched Dad’s face to gauge his response, but he didn’t indicate whether he knew Kristoffer’s story yet or not. What had the two talked about outside?

Soon the four were seated, two each on the long sides of the table, with Kristoffer by her side and directly across from Dad.

After the platters and bowls were passed, Monica apologized for not having the appetizers ready to enjoy out on the deck.

“Nonsense. Everything’s delicious, Monica, Pamela.” The way Kristoffer acknowledged her small contribution in nearly the same breath brought a smile to her face.

“My girls are the best cooks ever.” Pamela acknowledged Dad’s compliment, too, with a nod.

“I can’t take credit for this feast, guys,” Pamela said. “Monica did all the prep and hard work.”

Conversation continued in a similar vein until Monica cleared the salad and appetizer plates and the steaks were served. Dad had a set of markers indicating doneness, and each was served a porterhouse cooked to a different temperature. Pamela noticed she and Kristoffer both chose medium.

“So, Kristoffer, tell me more about your work,” Dad prompted.

As Kristoffer launched into his usual low-key description of his work and even mentioned the equipment purchase project, Pamela watched Dad’s and Monica’s responses. They seemed genuinely interested, and she relaxed.
What’s not to like about Kristoffer?
Dad asked a few questions, especially concerning the type of jet Gunnar used on his missions, and Kristoffer surprisingly knew the answer, but he’d probably been responsible for the jet’s purchase.

In under a week, Kristoffer had survived meeting both of her parents and her stepmother. She glanced in Kristoffer’s direction and found him staring at her. He smiled warmly at her, and she sent one back to him. Was he aware of the direction her thoughts had gone? Skilled Dominants could interpret body language, and he’d shown numerous times he could read her like a book.

“Pamela, what’s been keeping you so busy these days?” Dad asked. “Or should I ask who?” Dad’s pointed look at Kristoffer made her blush.

“The project we worked on took up quite a bit of time. Of course, I had some restrictions due to my recovery period.” Hoping to steer him in a different direction, Pamela changed the subject. “Oh, I’m interviewing Monday at Children’s Hospital in Denver for a possible position on the plastics and reconstruction surgical team.”

“Does this mean you intend to stay put for a while?”

She shared her plans to spend one more month in Afghanistan to finish out her contract. “I’ll be glad when that’s behind you. Not to say I’m not proud of you, Punkin. There’s a lot of haters in this world, but knowing you’re doing something to make life better for some of the casualties…” He broke off and cleared his throat. “You definitely inherited a mix of your mother’s idealism and my practicality.”

His praise washed over her like a brilliant beam of sunshine. “You two passed down to me the best you each had to offer.”

The meal neared an end too quickly, but they had yet to say anything to Dad about what the two of them meant to one another. She’d follow Kristoffer’s lead but regretted not introducing him accurately at the front door. Now it seemed awkward to bring up their status again.

Kristoffer reached for his untouched wine glass and lifted it as if to propose a toast. Everyone followed suit and raised their glasses. In his sexy, deep voice, he said, “To Pamela, one of the bravest, kindest, and most proficient people I know—and the woman who has filled an enormous void in my life with her presence.”

Pamela’s vision blurred as she blindly clinked her glass with his and completed the toast with Monica and Dad. She blinked rapidly, not wanting to turn the end of their meal into a weepy mess. Glancing nervously over at Dad, she was met with his smile and a twinkle in his eye. He wasn’t the least bit surprised by Kristoffer’s announcement. Clearly, the two men
had
spoken on the deck.

She turned to face Kristoffer, furrowing her brows, but he only shrugged matter-of-factly. “I couldn’t very well ask you to be a significant part of my life without first knowing we would have your father’s approval, especially given our unique circumstances. Call me old-fashioned, but I spent a lot of my childhood being raised by a grandfather in the old country—and my late teen years under Gunnar’s authority.”

“Rest assured, Punkin, I warned Kristoffer what would happen if he ever hurt you in the slightest way.” While Dad winked at her, an edge to his words left no doubt the two had spoken quite seriously earlier. “You two have a lifetime to figure out what to make of your relationship. Don’t let anyone else’s standards dictate what’s right for you.”

She’d never thought of Dad as particularly liberal, but he certainly sounded open-minded about the prospect of his daughter living with a man outside of marriage. That lifted a great weight off her shoulders.

His voice grew husky as he finished. “As long as you’re happy, Pamela, you know I’ll be happy.” Perhaps the twinkle in Dad’s eye was unshed tears.

She stood and rounded the table to give him a hug. “I love you, Dad. And I love Kristoffer, too. He’s very good for me.”

Only Monica seemed as surprised as Pamela by this turn of events. “Well, does this mean we’ll be planning
two
weddings this summer?”

Pamela’s gaze shifted to Kristoffer, whose smile became stiff, but before he could speak, Dad said, “Monica, all you have to worry about is Whitney’s. I’ll explain it to you later.”

Kristoffer stood. “Monica, Bryce, if you’ll excuse us, Pamela and I have some things to discuss—in private. Pardon my manners, but please continue without us. This might take a while.”

“Take all the time you need, Kristoffer,” Dad said, grinning. No doubt in her mind that those two were going to become good friends—and accomplices.

She wasn’t sure if he meant they were leaving or what, but he eased her hand into his and guided her out onto the deck, releasing her to slide the door closed behind them. Once out of sight of the two in the dining room, he turned her toward him.

“This might be the longest speech I’ve ever made, so please bear with me.” His serious expression caused the blood to pound in her ears.

“Two months ago tomorrow, I walked into a classroom at The Denver Academy and found a beautiful ginger-haired sprite standing naked and proud before a group of her fellow students.” A flush heated her cheeks. She hadn’t remembered the date, but it pleased her that he had.

“I was wearing blinders before that, or I’d have noticed you in the boardroom the day you came to Gunnar asking for help for Fakhira. But suffice it to say, you definitely captured my attention
that
night.” He was quick to add, “And not because you were nude, although that didn’t hurt any.” He shrugged unapologetically, endearing himself to her even more. His humor helped relieve some of her tension, but he grew serious again.

“That night was the wake-up call I needed. At one point, I don’t know if you remember, but you looked at me with a silent plea in your eyes, begging me not to expose you outside those walls. At least that’s how I interpreted it.”

“I knew you had to have been vetted, but it was definitely my initial reaction when I saw someone I knew standing there.”

“The thing is, you needed something from me.”

The moment had been obscured by time for her, but apparently had made an indelible impact on him.

He took a deep breath and sobered. “That extremely awkward moment changed my life forever. Yeah, I fought it at first, thinking it wrong of me to even be attracted to another woman, much less act on it. I’m a married man, so it was even more wrong of me to fall in love with her.”

The pounding in her ears might have blocked out some of his words.

“…mere mortals like me can’t dictate the will of our hearts.” He cleared his throat and stared deeply into her eyes. “I was doomed the moment my enchanting pixie flitted into my dark, gloomy days, casting a dazzling light into every corner.” He shook his head and grinned. “No, truth be told, you came in with a blowtorch and brought me roaring back to life.”

They shared a laugh at the image he’d spun of her as Tinkerbell on steroids.

He reached out to cup her cheek. “You, Sprite, are the most amazing, selfless woman I’ve ever met. Rarely with a thought to your own needs, you go about making sure
my
needs and those of others are met. In my case, it required a charge of dynamite to break loose some of my barrier walls.”

She swallowed against the lump in her throat, blinking rapidly. “You, Sir, have always made certain my needs were met, even ones I was unaware of.”

He pressed a finger to her lips. She kissed it, leaving him grinning and shaking his head simultaneously.

Soon, he grew serious again. “Pamela, you’ve never asked me to compromise my principles or abandon my obligations to Tori. From the beginning, you’ve accepted the fact that I can’t divorce her, even though I know in my heart now, as well as my head, that she’s gone. While we were in Sonoma, I made my peace with her and said goodbye.”

“You and I began as friends, but we’ve become much closer.”

She smiled. “Oh,
much
more.”

He continued as if she hadn’t spoken, as though he’d practiced this speech at some point and needed to let it out verbatim.

“When you agreed to be my submissive trainee and recently became my submissive—knowing I had a list of intimacy hard limits a mile long—you never complained about what we couldn’t have. You simply accepted the moments we
could
share together.”

Drawing his hand back, he began fiddling with his wedding ring. “In Big Sur, we both admitted we were falling in love with each other.” He sighed heavily. “I know you must wonder whether I’ll be able to love you the way you deserve given this.” Pausing a second, he then slowly removed his wedding ring.

What was he thinking? “No, Kristoffer! I’d never ask you—”

The white band left on his tanned finger showed that his years with Tori had left their mark in more ways than one. He’d worn her ring for eighteen years.

“This doesn’t mean I’m divorcing Tori or shirking my duties to the shell she left behind.” He held the gold band up between them. “But continuing to wear this on my left hand is a lie. It tells the world that I’m an actively married man. I’ve finally admitted that’s not true. Rick explained it best—how can it be called a marriage if one partner is unable to participate in the relationship in even the most basic of ways? Someone whose body is alive only because of artificial means?”

Confused at what he was saying and doing, she cocked her head.

“Pamela, I’ve been trying to figure out how to show you I’m ready to move on with you emotionally, not to mention declare in some public way that we’re committed to one another now.”

He then slipped the band onto his right ring finger. “While not wearing Tori’s ring at all might send a message we’re divorced, I think wearing it here serves as a reminder to me of my duty and promise to oversee the care of her body until she passes. That could be tomorrow…or twenty or forty years from now.”

“Some spouses in this situation opt for divorce outright, and I know any court would grant me one, but it’s a moot point. I made her promises, too.”

Pamela’s took his hands in hers and looked into his eyes. “One of the things I love most about you is that you don’t shirk your duties or go back on your promises.”