Sapphire (4 page)

Taylor had fought too hard to become herself to lose that just for sex.

Maybe she wouldn’t go after all. Who was she kidding? She wouldn’t be able to do the obey-without-hesitation thing.

Which meant he’d punish her. It would hurt, of course. It made no sense that the idea of Kirliss punishing her brought up such deep emotion. An image of herself across his lap while he spanked her shook her to the bone. She would cry, fall apart under his hands. She’d end up trying to obey, just to avoid it.

Which really pissed her off. She hadn’t worked this hard to be her own person to be sniveling about whether some random guy would be mad at her for not obeying him. Obeying him! How was it possible she was even contemplating doing this?

With a snarl, Taylor realized that this was exactly what Kirliss wanted—to have her feeling off balance and out of control.

Well, that was her choice and she was choosing to take control back again. Never mind wearing what she pleased, she simply wouldn’t go. Instead she’d go home, put on some sweats, maybe order in Thai and settle in with a good book. If he questioned it, she’d speak that word and be done with it all.

More relaxed and feeling focused, Taylor scrutinized the spreadsheet on her computer screen. Something here wasn’t adding up right, and with relief she sank into the problem, rechecking the formulae and bringing up the original data.

She could always look at what was in the box and just see what he had in mind. It would likely give her a clue. A shiver ran through her, imagining what it might be. Her body thrumming, she remembered his taunting words at lunch and how else he might tease her if she let him…

“Goddammit!” Taylor slammed her mouse against the pad.

“Freezing up on you again?” Steve poked his head in the door.

“Something like that.” Steve had his jacket on and Taylor glanced at the clock on her screen. “Wow. After six already? Time flies.”

“Yep! But look what just arrived for you.” Steve edged in, dwarfed by a massive bouquet of roses in a sapphire-blue vase, which he set on her desk. All were white with scarlet petal tips.

Taylor stared in astonishment and not a little horror. Maybe a tendril of embarrassed pleasure.

Steve glanced at the single rose she’d brought back from lunch and grinned at her. “Must have been a great meeting.”

“I have no idea what he’s thinking.”

“Oh, come on. Adam Kirliss has been more than half in love with you since that day you sent three potential vendors packing in tears.”

“It was only two who cried.”

“I have witnesses who will swear the third guy wiped away at least one tear on the street.”

“Kidding aside…” She lowered her voice. “You really think he has a thing for me?”

Steve gestured at the monstrous bouquet like a game-show hostess.

“That’s just flirtation.”

“In all seriousness, yes. He’s had a ‘thing’ for you since day one, and I’ll confess he tried to pump me for information about you more than once. And before you ask, I told him you never date and should. You’re welcome.”

Taylor dropped her head to her folded hands. “Oh, God.”

“Problem?”

“Well, now I’m supposed to go out with him tonight, for real. What the hell was I thinking?”

“Come on. You can pull off a hostile takeover where people hate your guts, and you’re afraid of a date?”

She raised her head and narrowed her eyes at him. “You think if you call me chicken, I’ll have to prove you wrong. Kirliss is trying that tactic too.”

“Is it working?”

She glared at him and he laughed, holding up his hands in mock surrender.

“I really look forward to seeing you two work this out. It’s like a title match—I should sell tickets.”

“You’ll say nothing of this to anyone, please.”

“I never would.” Steve drew himself up, thoroughly offended. “Though you owe me, because news that Kirliss might have thawed the ice queen would be hot office gossip. I could mine lattes for weeks with this one.” He winked at her and left.

Taylor eyed the bouquet. A vanilla envelope perched in a little holder. She pulled out the card.

Not going to chicken out, are you?

She laughed in spite of herself, grabbed the box and all the roses and took them with her. She’d probably look, just to see what he had in mind. But no way did she want the memory of some skeezy sex outfit tainting her workplace.

She almost left the ominous box in the car, but it was already six-thirty and if she changed her mind about going, that didn’t leave her a whole bunch of time to get ready. Especially since his last taunting words had been to be sure to eat something because he doubted they’d get around to it. She tossed the box on the bed while she went to take a shower.

Even as the hot water poured over her, she realized she was prepping for her date. Her hands froze in her shampoo-frothy hair.

Then, with deliberate precision, she finished scrubbing, taking care to massage her scalp, stimulating her follicles as her hairdresser recommended. That was for herself. It wasn’t all about prepping for him.

If she was honest with herself, tonight was for her. For M. Just one night.

Taylor prepared herself the way she liked best. If the box revealed different instructions, so be it. If she was delivering herself as a sacrificial lamb, then she’d be her own priestess too. She smoothed on rose-petal lotion, layering with perfume. She blew her hair dry and did her makeup carefully, perhaps a bit smudgier than for work. On impulse, she pulled out the Geisha Red lipstick she’d bought last holiday season and never worn. The column of scarlet spiraled smooth and untouched into that perfect point.

Damn right she put it on.

Kirliss had no idea what he was in for. She smirked at her reflection.

Seven-fifteen. She had a bit of time, but not a hell of a lot. She pulled on her fuzzy pink robe and padded out to the bed, where the brown box waited for her, innocuous as ever. She tapped her short, perfectly manicured nails on the tape. The heavy scent of roses wafted in from the other room.

Not going to chicken out, are you?

With a disgusted tsk, Taylor ripped off the tape and flipped open the flaps of the box. On top lay a plain manila envelope. She opened it and scanned the papers inside. Medical tests and records dated two weeks previous. All clear. Something she hadn’t thought about. More evidence she wasn’t in her right mind. She tossed the packet onto her bedside table.

The next layer was crimson tissue paper, which spilled open to reveal the contents. And no, there was no note inside. None was necessary.

One by one, Taylor removed the pieces of clothing. The dress, a bare swath of sapphire-blue silk. Subtle that. The G-string of matching barely there lace. Thigh-high stockings of smoky blue, made of real silk, if she didn’t miss her guess. Glass-blue stiletto heels and a pair of drop earrings, sapphires pinned by diamonds.

The man didn’t miss a fucking detail.

With a sigh, Taylor shrugged out of the robe and laid it neatly on the bed. She dressed in Kirliss’s suggested outfit with a sense of ritual. And yes, sensual arousal. Her sex heated and dampened. What she put on would soon come off.

No surprise, it all fit perfectly. The dress swept her body like a scarf, tied behind her neck, leaving her back bare and dipping low between her bare breasts. The silk draped her hips in a wrap style, the asymmetrical hem riding high on one thigh, showing a hint of darker lace at the top of the stocking. Taylor surveyed herself in the full-length mirror. The heels made her legs look wickedly long. The flashing earrings matched her eyes, and her auburn hair tumbled in muted contrast down her naked back.

No tacky French maid outfit for sure. If nothing else, the man had class.

The dress was also notable for how easily it could be removed.

At seven-fifty, Taylor waited in the art deco lobby of her building, discreetly wrapped in her black leather trench coat. She’d put a few things into her jeweled clutch—keys, cell phone, ID, some cash, American Express card and lipstick. Everything a girl needed to extract herself from any situation

“You look gorgeous this evening, Ms. Hamilton.” The doorman tipped his cap. “I believe your driver is waiting for you.”

Taylor passed the man Kirliss’s business card. “This is where I’ll be tonight, should there be any sort of emergency.” The doorman nodded at the tacit safety measure, tucking the card into his log book.

The driver murmured a quiet good evening and held the door of the sleek silver car for her. Taylor slid in, her coat hesitating on the leather of the seats, parting to flash her stocking-clad thighs. She glanced in alarm at the driver, but he steadfastly stared in another direction.

She wondered how often he delivered women to Kirliss.

The car door shut with a quiet snap. She could still get out while he walked around to the driver’s side. She caught a deep breath, her nipples pressing turgid against the sleek material and the harder chafe of her coat. Her eyes fell on a flute of champagne set into a shelf in front of the seat. Another rose rested beside it.

A cream-colored note attached to it said
Relax.

Easy for him to say. But she sipped the champagne as the driver got in and pulled into traffic. There. She was officially out of control of the situation. She hoped Kirliss was happy.

They drove a ways outside the city, heading toward the ocean. When they pulled up at a cliffside mansion, Taylor colored herself unsurprised.

The driver opened the door for her and extended a gloved hand to help her out. Mindful of the dress, Taylor kept her knees together, managing a graceful exit. The driver reached into the car and handed her the rose, then gestured that she should walk up the steps.

The door opened and Kirliss, an unmistakable silhouette, stood in the blazing doorway. She ascended the marble stairs, stepping slowly because of the high heels, but also to ease the clenching in her gut. What the hell was she doing, delivering herself into this man’s hands? Especially when she knew what he was capable of. Wet heat pulsed between her thighs in reminder.

Kirliss smiled, that lethal, predatory flash of teeth. He took her hand and kissed the back of it. “I thought you changed your mind.”

“I still might.”

His thumb passed over her frantic pulse and he shook his head. “I don’t think so. Not now. Not you.”

He pulled her inside with smooth power and shut the massive door behind her. She fiddled with the rose, testing a fingertip against a sharp thorn. He watched her, one elegant eyebrow raised in question. She set the rose down on a mirrored shelf.

“May I take your coat?” he inquired, ever the gracious host, but with heat glinting in those golden eyes.

Taylor tugged at the belt and tried not to hesitate as she opened the coat and surrendered it to him. He took it and held out a hand for her clutch.

“You won’t be needing that,” he said when her fingers tightened on it. “Unless you have a diaphragm inside?”

“No, I’m on the pill.”

A wicked grin flashed across his face. “That’s my efficient Taylor.”

“I don’t have—I didn’t bring any medical records.”

“You had a physical just a month ago. We scheduled around it. A woman like you takes care of herself. I trust that you’re healthy.” He grinned. “Besides, I know you haven’t been seeing anyone.”

“Yes, I had a word with Steve about privacy.”

Kirliss held out a hand. “You’re still holding on to the purse.”

With a sigh, Taylor handed that over too, feeling as if she’d given up her last tie to the real world, to escape and safety. He took her coat and purse into another room. One that was some distance away, given that it took him a few minutes to return. She heard the soft tapping of his shoes and watched him come toward her, that feline smile on his lips while his eyes swept her from head to toe.

“Am I a prisoner, then?” she asked in a light tone, though she could hear the tremor under it.

“Yes.” Kirliss held out a hand and she laid hers in it. He raised it over her head, encouraging her to spin under his perusal. “You look beyond beautiful and you officially have no control, Taylor. How does it feel?”

He tucked her hand at the small of her back and used the leverage to press her up against him. Her thinly clad nipples brushed his chest and his eyes blazed disconcertingly close. He waited for her answer.

“I don’t know,” she breathed.

He chuckled. “I love your honesty.”

Kirliss pressed her tighter against him. Even in the high heels, she stood just a bit shorter. She held her breath as his lips swept across hers, whiskey smoke and hot male. His other hand ran through her hair and down her naked back. Before the kiss really began, it was over.

She stopped the sound of protest that might have escaped her.

Kirliss released her wrist and stepped back. “Turn around and place your palms against the door.”

“What?” The tingle of shock heated her blood.

“Refusing to obey? Already?” He raised an eyebrow and tapped a finger against the leather belt he wore. It was one of the dress kind, some sort of black reptile pattern, with a jeweled buckle of obsidian.

Her eyes flew back up to his, breath tight in her throat. “You wouldn’t.”

“Is there something about the rules that’s unclear? You’re one of the sharpest negotiators out there, Taylor—don’t play dumb. Either cry off or do as you’re told.”

Taylor turned and placed her palms against the glossy wood of the door.

“Higher.”

She slid her hands higher, feeling oddly exposed with his gaze like heat on her skin. A shudder ran through her, and she pressed her fingertips into the wood to hold herself there. His hand brushed her hair from her back, draping it forward over her shoulder.

“I like that you left your hair down,” he said, his voice soft.

“I thought you might prefer it.”

“I do.” He trailed light fingertips over her shoulder blades. “Though I’m surprised you thought to please me.”

“I was surprised you didn’t tell me to leave it down.”

“I knew I could always take it down myself once I had you tied up as I liked.”