Perfectly Paired Masters and Mercenaries Page 3

  “I don’t.” This wasn’t an issue.

  Big Tag had stopped at the door. “Because there’s the possibility that her ex-boyfriend could get out of prison and she’s the one who put him away. His name is Bobby Len McMurtry and he’s spent four years locked away because Tiffany testified against him. He’s up for parole and the last thing he said before they took him away was that he would kill her for ratting on him. If you won’t watch out for her, I’ll put a trained guard on her ass twenty-four seven. She won’t be able to work and I’ll need to find someone else to bottom for you because I really need Milo to let Adam off the hook. It’s all up to you. If you say no, she goes into protective custody until I can figure out how serious this asshole is and Adam likely loses years of his work. But really, give it some thought. We wouldn’t want to put you out because you didn’t want to spank a pretty girl and help a guy find himself the way we helped you.”

  He walked out and Tiffany had to admit that the man knew how to make an exit.

  Sebastian sighed heavily. “I’ll take responsibility for her. How long a time period are we talking about? And we’re going to need a contract.”

  Chef nodded. “I’ve got one right here. Tiffany, why don’t you feed Seth while Sebastian and I get down to business? Unless you have someone else you want to negotiate for you?”

  “I’m twenty-eight years old.” And Seth was turning a nice shade of red. He squirmed in her arms, a sure sign that he was getting ready to tune up. She couldn’t shove the cold bottle at him. He needed it warmed up. Still, the idea of not being in on the negotiations rankled.

  Almost as much as the resigned way Sebastian had given in. He could be a little more enthusiastic.

  Chef started to reach for the phone. “All right, then. I’ll call your father. After all, he’s the one who called me so I could keep a watch out for McMurtry.”

  “Yes, you can negotiate for me.” He really knew how to kick a girl in the puss. She tried to imagine her intellectual father coming to grips with a D/s contract. Why did the Taggart brothers have to live in the Dark Ages? She supposed this was one of those trade-off things her father always talked about. No light without dark. No joy without pain. No unpaid workers helping to move her without dudes who acted like she needed a guardian.

  Sebastian looked grim as he sat down in front of Chef. “We’ll go over the contract this evening after we’ve settled in. Are you packed?”

  “Oh, I wasn’t going out to Fort Worth until tomorrow.” It would give her a little time to get everything ready. She hadn’t expected things to move so quickly, and she definitely hadn’t expected the whole D/s couple thing.

  She’d totally expected the sharing the apartment thing since she’d been the one to flood the second floor of Deena and Eric’s house. Not really, of course. However, she’d been the one to convince Deena to tell that particular story to everyone so she could have a shot at Sebastian.

  That was all she needed. A shot. She needed to push them together in a situation where they were forced to stay close and then he would see how sparkly and awesome she could be and he would fall madly in love with her.

  Except she hadn’t counted on the D/s stuff.

  She would take tonight to reexamine her plans. Tomorrow she would go in with a smile and fresh ideas about how to win over her very grumpy hottie.

  “I’ll be leaving at two. I want to avoid the traffic,” he stated solemnly.

  “That’s a good idea.”

  “Excuse me, darlin’,” he said, his eyes steady on her. “Let me make myself plain. We will be leaving at two so we can avoid the traffic.”

  “Is now a good time to explain that I have my own car?” She bounced the baby as both men stared at her. Yeah, those were not chef and som stares. Those were Dom stares. She knew when to retreat. It looked like she would start her campaign earlier than she’d planned. “Okay, then. I’ll be ready.”

  “See that you are,” Sebastian said. “And pack a bag of your fet wear. I’ll look through it and if it’s not acceptable, I’ll purchase more for you. I have exacting standards, Tiffany, and I’ll expect you to live up to them for the next eight weeks.”

  Somehow the idea of Sebastian’s big hands brushing over her silky underthings and touching her corsets did something for her even if that stick up his ass was showing itself. “Of course, Sir.”

  She strode out as Seth started to cry. “I’m with you, baby boy. Sometimes it hurts to not get what you need.”

  But starting tonight, she would damn straight try.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Three hours later, Tiffany looked around her place with a sigh. It was mostly clean. She was pretty sure she’d picked up all the coffee mugs and granola wrappers. Fairly certain.

  The place wouldn’t implode while she was gone, but damn she was going to miss her easel and canvases.

  Her cell phone trilled and she glanced down briefly before clicking to answer. “Hey, D. How’s it going in Cowtown?”

  Her best friend chuckled over the line. “Well, it would be way more fun if you were here.”

  She moved around her tiny, sunny apartment, closing up the blinds. “I’ll be there in a couple of hours.”

  “But you won’t be here,” Deena replied. “Are you sure you can’t run this scheme of yours from my place?”

  “Your place recently flooded,” she pointed out. It was best when scheming to always stick to the generalities of the scheme. “It’s very sad.”

  “Okay, okay.” She could practically see Deena throwing up her hands in mock surrender. “Your girl parts are in complete control. Does that man even understand what’s coming for him?”

  “I think he’s got a pretty good idea since I signed a contract with him about an hour ago.” That had been a surreal moment. Of all the ways she’d thought this thing could go early on, signing a contract with Sebastian that stated she was his submissive for the next eight weeks wasn’t one she would have bet on.

  Of course, she wasn’t certain how seriously Sebastian was planning on taking that contract.

  “Excuse me?” Deena sounded as shocked as Tiffany had felt.

  She closed the final curtain and turned off the light in her bathroom. “I know. The wheel of fate is turning in my direction. Apparently Big Tag needs a favor from Sebastian. We have to train some billionaire guy and his women so they can come play at Sanctum, but he’s insistent on having an actual D/s couple do the job.”

  “There’s one problem with that. You’re not a D/s couple,” Deena pointed out.

  “Oh, according to the contract I signed we are.”

  She was his sub and that meant she was to obey his directives when it came to play. Because they were fast-tracking the get-to-know-you period, she had also agreed to work with him both at home and at Top so that they could look as close to a long-term couple as possible.

  But he’d also been explicit about the fact that he wouldn’t expect her to have sex with him, nor would he require her to sleep in the same bed as him.

  Baby steps.

  “Tiffany, are you really thinking about this? I’m pretty sure Sebastian is more hard core than any of the Doms you’ve played with before.”

  She wasn’t worried about that. She’d enjoyed all the BDSM play she’d been involved with before. Spanking was a total turn-on for her, but she was months in and she hadn’t had sex with anyone. Not even her hot-as-hell recent play partners. Over the months, she’d enjoyed playing at Sanctum and had found a regular group of Doms to bottom for. Bear was a gorgeous piece of manflesh who worked for McKay-Taggart as a bodyguard, and Michael Malone was equally hot. Both had been willing and she’d totally meant to sleep with them, and then it turned out neither one was Sebastian and her female parts had gone into lock-down.

  If she didn’t land Sebastian soon, her Hitachi was going to burn out, and she didn’t have the cash for another one. She couldn’t even go to Dad for a loan. She’d made a deal with herself when she’d decided on the starving-artist path. No loans from her father unless it was for education or an absolute necessity, like fixing her car so she could get to work.

  Masturbatory aids did not fall into those categories so she needed that expensive piece of equipment to keep on vibrating.

  “I’ll be fine,” she replied. “I’m actually a little worried that Sebastian won’t take things seriously at all. Oh, don’t get me wrong. I think he’ll scene with me when we go to the club, and he’ll likely want to go over protocol endlessly, but he didn’t exactly seem eager to get his hands on me. Am I wrong about this? Am I being a total idiot to think we’ve got this amazing chemistry? He treats me more like an annoyance than a woman he wants to spend serious time with.”

  Deena sighed over the line. “Tell me why you’re so into him again.”

  She was quiet for a moment, thinking back to that one night that had been such a turning point for her. “He’s kind.”

  “That’s not his reputation. He’s known for being more chilly than kind,” Deena pointed out.

  “Only because you’ve never found yourself driven home by him. You’ve never had him hold your hand because you bawled your eyes out over how lonely you felt, how much you’d screwed everything up.”

  “Are you talking about the night of Chef’s party?”

  It had happened months ago. She knew it had been a meaningful night for Deena, but what no one with the exception of Sebastian knew was that it had been a rough day for her. She’d found out her father had a tumor.

  She should have stayed home, but she’d found herself at the party trying to pretend like he wasn’t going to potentially die and leave her an orphan. She’d been a twenty-eight-year-old terrified of losing her father since losing her mother was still a knife through her soul even ten years later.

  “Yes, I am.”

  “You were worried about your dad that night, weren’t you? That’s why you drank so much,” Deena said. “I didn’t know at the time because you didn’t bother to mention it until after he’d had his surgery and was given a clean bill of health.”

  They’d managed to get every bit of the tumor and it had turned out to be benign, but that evening all she could think of was how much she would miss her dad.

  “He showed up,” she said quietly. “Dad’s surgery was two days later and Sebastian showed up and sat beside me in the waiting room. Dad had asked me not to tell my sisters because Berry had a job in New York and it’s hard for V to come home from France. She doesn’t like to fly.”

  Her younger sister, Versace, didn’t like to do anything that could harm the earth, and most forms of transportation did the trick. If V couldn’t get somewhere in her biodiesel, ancient-as-hell VW bug, she usually didn’t go at all. So Tiffany had been there all alone in a cold hospital waiting room worried as hell that she was going to have to call her sisters and tell them Daddy was gone.

  And then Sebastian had sat down beside her, offering her a Styrofoam cup of coffee with a little cream and two sugars, exactly as she liked it. He’d sat down and told her about his own father and the time had passed.

  She hadn’t been alone on what could have been the worst day of her life because Sebastian Lowe had taken his day off to ensure she had someone to talk to.

  If she’d been attracted to him before, she wasn’t sure what to call how she felt about him after. Infatuated. Bewitched. Slightly in love.

  What the hell was she going to do if this didn’t work?

  “You never told me that,” Deena said quietly. “Of course, that was right about the time I was all caught up in my drama with Eric, so I bet you didn’t want to burden me. You know, you do that far too often.”

  She didn’t like to be a burden. It was more fun to be helpful. “I was okay. Sebastian saw to that.”

  And then he’d promptly taken to avoiding her. He was polite enough, but there was a chill that she wanted to thaw. Needed to thaw.

  She wanted to get back to that moment when his hand had slid over hers. To the night where he’d put his arms around her and promised her everything would be all right, when his mouth had hovered over hers and she’d been so sure he was going to kiss her.

  If she thought for a second that he didn’t want her, that this wasn’t all about his damn legs or lack thereof, she would have hesitated. It wasn’t that she thought she was the be-all, end-all of attraction. But she’d felt his longing. And then she’d watched him withdraw the minute she’d seen him without his legs.

  Damn it, the man didn’t need legs to be amazing and gorgeous. He didn’t need anything at all. He was the sexiest man ever without them.

  There was a brisk knock on her door and she realized it was exactly two o’clock.

  “I have to go, D. Are you going to be anywhere near the restaurant tomorrow? I’m starting training with Eric’s chosen front of house.” She moved toward the door.

  “I’ll stop in. Love you.”

  “Back at you.” She was so thankful to have Deena in her life. “He’s here. See you tomorrow.”

  She hung up the phone and opened the door. There he was. He was stunningly masculine in slacks and a button down he’d totally buttoned up and a suit coat. No tie for him, which made the look casual for the always dressed up sommelier. The trouble was she knew exactly how hot the man was under his polished exterior. “Hey. Come on in and I’ll get ready to go.”

  He looked so incongruous stepping inside her bohemian apartment. He was perfectly done up from his hair down to his wing-tip shoes. “I thought we agreed you would be ready at two.”

  And she was. Mostly. She gave him a smile as she moved toward her bedroom. She wasn’t going to sit in a car with him for forty minutes without making sure her makeup wasn’t smudged. “I won’t be but a second. And I packed light. Just the two suitcases and an overnight bag.”

  “I’ll bring you back here if you need more. We’re going to be gone for at least eight weeks. I’ll make sure we have the same days off so I can drive you.” He took off his sunglasses and looked around the place.

  It was easy to see he wasn’t impressed, but then she wasn’t much of a housekeeper. She was too busy with her art. She would drop everything when inspired. Although when she wasn’t inspired, it wasn’t like she found a mad love for cleaning.

  “As long as we have a washing machine, I should be fine. I’ll get my purse and we can go.” She went into the bathroom and took a deep breath.

  What was she doing? Was this the stupidest thing she’d ever done? No, that had probably been her very short and ill-advised punk-rock band phase. This was totally different. She was pursuing her dreams. This was what she’d been taught to do. When she wanted something, she went after it. She loved painting so she was pursuing it in the only way she knew how. She wanted independence so she’d turned her back on the family money.

  She wanted Sebastian and that meant she had to get close to him.

  Damn, she needed some lip gloss. Her skin was a tad on the pale side, a fact she attributed to spending too much time worried about the light for her paintings and getting no sunlight for her own self. She happened to know that she and Sebastian had a balcony at Chef’s apartment that would be perfect for catching a few rays, and she’d bought a bikini she hoped would make Sebastian’s mouth water.

  How were the girls? She readjusted. Sometimes her nipples went a little crazy when they got in the bra and one would point north and the other southeasterly. If those headlights were coming on, she wanted them pointed directly at her target.

  Target made him sound like she was going to do something bad to him. She wasn’t. She was doing this for him, too. Sebastian was lonely. He’d told her that night when she was fairly certain he thought she’d been too drunk to remember what he’d said.

  Do you have any idea how long it’s been since I got to hold a woman? Damn, but you feel good in my arms, darlin’.

  And then she’d thrown up because Chef wasn’t chintzy with the tequila.

  Nipples aligned. Lip gloss on. She could do this. A little hair poof up and she was ready to go.

  Did she smell good? Yes. She seemed to be okay. She wasn’t sure Sebastian would like perfume. It could ruin his nose. He talked about his nose a lot.

  Maybe she should have learned more about wine. It was his obsession. All she knew was she liked it and she was fairly good at remembering his pairings. Chef’s pork chops Marsala went particularly well with a Pinot Noir. Sebastian liked to pair Top’s Oysters Rockerfeller with a Sauvignon Blanc.

  But the menu at Top was about all she knew. And he was apparently crazy about champagne, but only certain champagnes because she’d overheard him telling Eric that Prosecco wasn’t champagne.

  But it was bubbly so she didn’t get the difference.

  She was overthinking this. All right. Back to basics. Nipples forward, mascara on, lips glossed. It was time.

  She grabbed her bag and stepped out into her apartment where she found Sebastian and none of her luggage. “Uhm, where are the bags?”

  He was frowning, his handsome face set in grim lines. “You were gone for twenty minutes. I had the time to load the car all by myself.”

  He’d carried her heavy-ass bags down three flights of steps? No wonder he looked so pissed. She tried a bright smile on him. “Well, at least I’m leaving the easel and paints behind. Thank you so much for that. Sorry I’m late.”

  “I think I explained that we needed to leave at two o’clock.”

  The deep Dom voice was back. Damn it. She’d lost track of time and irritated him again. “I’m sorry, Sebastian. I promise I won’t keep us waiting any longer. I’ll lock up and we can head out of here.”

  He eased his suit coat off, carefully folding it and laying it over her tiny breakfast bar. “I’m afraid you are going to delay us further. I like to begin as I mean to proceed. I was very specific with what time we would leave and I even went so far as to explain why we needed to leave at this time. You chose to disregard my order.”

  “Your order?” What the hell was happening? He was rolling up his dress shirt sleeves, revealing ridiculously muscled forearms.