Sweet Surrender (15 page)

Her eyes fell on the glittering diamond on her finger, her thoughts on her parents. Security, supposedly that’s what they’d been building until her father imploded their marriage and her mother’s financial future went down the crapper. It made her worry about what lay ahead for her. Every day she heard about this couple breaking up or that one being unhappy. Half of the staff were divorced, it seemed. How were she and Marc going to beat the odds?

Twisting her ring, she sighed.

As she walked back to her office to get her notes for her meeting, she sent a quick text to her mom. She didn’t call, knowing she’d get voice mail; her mother was working. Like herself, she was always working. Jessie hadn’t seen her in a bit and needed to tell her the big news. She also felt in need of a great big motherly hug.

Mom, let’s have dinner your next night off. My treat. Text me back.

* * *

“I am happy for you, sweetie. Don’t let my bitterness put a damper on your joy.”

Lily looked exhausted. Sitting at the twenty-year-old Formica-topped dinette set, Jessie surveyed her mother as she sipped her favorite brand of coffee: strong, black, and packing a caffeine kick strong enough to jolt her back to life each morning. Appearing much older than her forty-six years, Lily reminded her of a well-worn pair of jeans: frayed around the edges, most of the color long ago washed out, and although able to regain their former shape for a while, they weren’t the same as they once were. She remembered her mother from her childhood: vibrant, energetic, and beautiful; rarely had a moment gone by when she wasn’t smiling. The customers at the diner had loved her because no matter how bad their day, Lily could make it brighter with a smile, a simple pat on the shoulder, or by telling one of her jokes. Jessie remembered they were mostly corny, though the customers couldn’t get enough of them, or of her mother.

Of course, all that changed after her dad left. Now she was a shadow of that woman. On rare occasions, Jessie got a glimpse of her, like at her graduation when she’d been filled with so much pride for her only daughter that she’d come close to bursting. Those moments were fleeting though and it broke Jessie’s heart. At times like that, she dreamed of having it out with her father, if for no other reason than to tell him what she thought of him and make herself feel better. She always thought that one day she’d have that opportunity, but after fifteen years without a word, she doubted that day would ever come.

“So what are the future in-laws like?” Her mom’s innocent question made Jessie feel worse. She couldn’t tell her how awful they were; her mom would worry and she had enough stress. Therefore, she told the only truth she could.

“His dad is very nice.” David Trent was a powerful businessman; she’d expected him to be brusque and preoccupied most of the time with his Smart phone. Surprisingly, he was very warm, welcoming, and attentive to Jessie, unlike the women in his family. Mariella, the shrew, and the wicked sisters were a different story entirely, so she said only, “His mother and three sisters are very beautiful.”

“So, he’s rich, but didn’t go into the family business. That seems odd.”

“Not really. His eldest sister is a business savant evidently and quite competitive. Marc said he thought it best he make his own way and let Giada have the corporate reins. I think his dad was disappointed since she can be quite intense; however, he seems okay with it and they are all very proud of Marc’s success as a surgeon.”

“So, are they making you sign a pre-nup?”

“A what?”

“A prenuptial agreement, if he’s worth a fortune and some of that is family money, surely it’s been considered. When—uh, I mean
if
things don’t work out, they aren’t going to want you to have a piece of their pie.”

Flabbergasted, Jessie sat frozen. She had never considered it. “Marc hasn’t mentioned it.”

“Hmm… he will, or his daddy or ‘Giada the intense’ will, mark my words.” She got up to refill her cup, taking Jessie’s as she went. “Just make sure you are well taken care of. If you learn nothing else from me, Jessica Lynn, learn this. You have to watch out for
numero uno
.”

Chapter Eleven

As she moved around Marc’s kitchen fixing dinner, she scolded herself. She should be blissfully happy to be cooking in his phenomenal kitchen with its high-end appliances, granite countertops, and beautiful butterscotch-colored hardwood flooring, which was heated. Imagine that. Who had heated floors? Rich men like Marc Trent did, naturally. To ward off the bitter cold of Michigan winters, he’d said without blinking. It was unreal.

Despite all that, or maybe because of it, she was preoccupied. She stood at the stove idly stir-frying the shrimp and veggies, when she remembered the sesame oil and ginger. They needed to go in now. She couldn’t find them in the spice cupboard near the stove and walked to the pantry to see if she had accidentally stuck them there. As she scanned the shelves of the huge walk-in closet, she reflected, not for the first time, that it was as big as the entire kitchen in her condo. While her eyes perused the well-stocked shelves, her mind wandered. Everything was happening so fast. In the past few months she’d graduated, gotten a new job, become engaged, had family stress and work drama out the yin-yang and last weekend, she’d moved in with Marc to his six-bedroom luxury home with its expansive and secluded frontage on the shores of Cass Lake. Her stress level was off the charts. She’d taken a stress test in a magazine at the doctor’s office the other day and had scored in the high stress/high risk for illness category. Great! She’d just sit back and wait for whatever health calamity fate saw fit to cast upon her next?

She sighed, realizing she was standing in the middle of the pantry closet having no idea why she was there.

“Jessie!”

Startled by Marc’s concerned call, she walked back into the kitchen and saw him rushing to the sink with the smoking skillet. Crap! She moved to help.

As he shoved it under warm water, the pan hissed and crackled. He warned, “Stay back! You’ll get splattered.”

She went to the stove, switched off the burner, and switched on the exhaust fan. Marc had doused the smoldering contents and opened the window above the sink by the time she turned back. The garbage disposal rumbled loudly as their burnt dinner was washed down the drain.

“This is like
déjà vu
all over again, huh? I’m sorry. I guess I need to stick with the crockpot.”

“What happened?”

“I stepped away for a moment to get the sesame oil.”

He looked pointedly at the bottle of golden oil that sat on the counter.

“Oh,” she said, feeling stupid. “I’ll see what else there is to fix.” With tears stinging her eyes, she spun around, heading back to the pantry, more to hide than anything else. She felt like a fool crying over a ruined dinner.

Marc grabbed her hand, whirling her back around and into a tight embrace. As he held her against his chest, he stroked her back. “
Cara,
don’t cry. It’s fine. Everyone burns dinner sometimes, especially in a new kitchen. Consider this the initiation.”

“How complicated is it to cook stir-fry? I suck.”

“Jess.”

“I do. I can’t cook without setting the kitchen on fire, I dropped that whole box of dishes I brought from the condo, and I shrunk your favorite shirt by putting it in the dryer instead of taking it to the cleaners. I’m going to make a terrible wife.”

“I’m not marrying you for your cooking and housekeeping skills.”

“That’s a relief because at this rate you’ll starve, go naked, and be living in a burned-out hovel.”

“Baby.”

She jerked away and walked to the counter with her back to him. As she stood there feeling miserable, her watery gaze fell on the carousel of wooden kitchen utensils she’d managed not to break in the move. She grabbed one at random—a heavy slotted spatula. She studied it a moment, then spun around and held it out to him.

“Here.”

His eyes got big as he stared at it, then at her. “What am I supposed to do with this?”

“Spank me.”

“I’m not going to spank you for burning dinner, Jess. We’ll go out.”

“No! I want you to spank me.”

“Why?”

“Because…”

“’Because’ is not an acceptable answer
.
Tell me why you want a spanking.”

“I need it. I feel like I’m crawling out of my skin and that everything is whirling too fast in my life. It’s been one thing after another lately and no matter how hard I try, I mess everything up. I don’t have control over anything anymore.” Her volume rose and the pitch turned shrill as her emotions overflowed and spilled out.

He was watching her with wide eyes, as if she’d lost her mind. Good God, maybe she had.

“Forget it.” Her voice broke as she rushed from the room. She’d almost reached the hall to the bedroom when he caught her, one long arm winding around her waist.

“Wait a minute. I wasn’t judging. I was processing what you were saying.” He picked her up and carried her into their room. Setting her feet on the floor by the bed, he sat on the edge and pulled her between his thighs, his favorite position for a discussion. He was so tall that even sitting, his eyes were nearly level with hers. “Look at me.”

When she did, his image was blurred through her tears. Heat rose in her face as it occurred to her what she had done. With her emotions reeling wildly, her mouth had formed words that her brain surely wouldn’t have approved if she’d been thinking rationally. Instead, inconceivably, she’d asked him to spank her.

“Um… no, really. Forget I said anything. I plead temporary insanity!”

He smiled softly. “Take a breath and let’s talk this through before you change your plea. You’re feeling stressed, out of control, and you think a spanking will help you regain that control. Is that right?”

She nodded, thought better of it and shook her head no; however, it bobbed up and down once more when she remembered the burnt lasagna incident. He’d spanked her that day, not for burning dinner, but for another offense. She hadn’t been feeling half as wired as she felt right now and it had calmed her. Was it possible that it would have that effect again? This wasn’t an impulsive thought; she’d actually dwelled on it often since it had occurred. In the beginning, she dismissed it as an errant crazed thought. More recently, unable to keep it from popping into her head repeatedly, she’d begun to think that maybe…

“Jess?”

Closing her eyes, she murmured under her breath, “I can’t believe I’m saying this.” Drawing in a deep breath, she tried to explain. “I’ve tried yoga, meditation, all the relaxation techniques imaginable, even wine, none of it helped. I can’t seem to calm down. I’m edgy and unfocused and have been for weeks. That’s why I burned dinner today and have made so many other stupid mistakes lately. I’m a freakin’ mess and nothing I do is working.”

It was as if her mouth, without a filter or even the smallest instinct for self-preservation, was acting independently of her brain, and her judgment flew out the window. Well, hell… it was too late to take everything back now. She lifted her gaze and met his squarely, saying tearfully, “I need a different outlet. I need you to spank me.”

He didn’t smile or frown; he simply met her eyes for several long excruciating awkward moments. At last, he spoke.

“Why a spanking, baby? Wouldn’t a hug, or a cuddle, or having sex do the same thing? Those are all stress relievers. Why not try those first?”

As his words sank in, she pulled back, wishing she could rewind the foolishness that had come out of her mouth. She assumed since he had done it before, he would give her what she asked for, without question. She should have known better.

Then her inner neurotic surfaced. He must think her a kinky freak, or some kind of masochist. Mortified, she wanted to crawl under a rock and hide. Backpedaling, she shook her head, whispering as she tried to pull away. “I’m obviously losing it.”

“Stop it,” he said firmly, holding her in place. “I’m trying to understand where you’re coming from on this. I want you to tell me.”

“I shouldn’t have said anything. I’ve changed my mind.”

“
Cara mia,
we’re living together now, soon to be married. We should be able to share anything. I want to help you, but I want to be clear about what you’re asking.”

“All right,” she said, taking a deep, steadying breath. “Remember the night I burned the lasagna and you spanked me?”

“You mean the night we first made love? I’ll never forget it, but I didn’t spank you for the burned lasagna.”

She flushed, remembering how she had challenged him that night, pushing his buttons, and nearly killing him by asking, of all things, if he still wanted in her pants. “I know that; it’s just that after you spanked me, I felt so much calmer. I’d been on edge for a while, but afterwards, well… I felt cherished, and you were so loving and gentle.” That sounded crazy; the spanking had hurt. “I don’t mean that the spanking didn’t sting like the dickens. I just—” She huffed in frustration. “I’m not explaining this right.”

“You’re doing fine. I want to be clear, however, that I spanked you that night as punishment, although a very mild one, for your misbehavior. You haven’t done anything wrong tonight, other than a few slips in the language department. Dinner was an accident.”

She dipped her head, wiping the tears from her eyes. “I thought if you spanked me again, we could recreate that feeling of calm. The loved and cherished part would be nice too.” Lifting her head, she looked into his pensive face. “What are you thinking? Am I crazy?”

“No, in fact, I think you may be on to something. Although I’ve swatted you a few times since, it was for fun, which isn’t the same. The real spanking that night was very powerful. That it had a positive effect on you doesn’t surprise me. We made love afterwards, which was off the charts, but was also another outlet, both physical and emotional.” Marc thought about that a moment, before he grinned. “It seems if we combine the two, it’s a win-win for both of us and makes perfect sense. You get a stress reliever and my palm gets to be up close and personal with your gorgeous ass. The benefits of the lovemaking afterward are self-explanatory. So yes, I say we go for spanking as a stress management tool.”