Ticket to Temptation Page 8

  “Why wouldn’t he?”

  “How well do you know him?”

  “How well do you?”

  Daniel sighed heavily. “Okay, look, this isn’t getting us anywhere. I know you’re pissed at me about the other day, but can we just start over?” He extended his hand toward me. That hand with the long, perfectly kept, tapered fingers.

  I paused a beat and then shook. “Hi, my name is Logan. Pleased to meet you.”

  “Daniel, and the feeling is mutual. Now, who first—you or me?”

  “I’ll go first. I was driving around and saw the sign for this house. I’m not quite sure why, but I took the turn and ended up here. To make a long story short, I spent a couple of hours with an old man named Raphael, who said he was the caretaker. He invited me to stay and gave me a ticket so I could return.”

  “A ticket?” The intensity of Daniel’s gaze increased the heat simmering at a low burn throughout my core. “What kind of ticket?”

  I slid off the bar stool. “Wait. I have it with me. I’ll show it to you. Where’s my purse?”

  “I guess it’s still in the car. We’ll have to wait until the storm lets up to get it.”

  “Oh yes, the storm.” I sat again. The storm brewing inside of me had obliterated the one raging outside.

  “So, he gave you this ticket…”

  “Yes, he called it a ticket to temptation. He said it would help me find my way back to the house. I needed some place to go while I figure things out, and I couldn’t get Raphael’s invitation or this house out of my mind. So, here I am.”

  “And what’s Greg think about all this?”

  “What Greg doesn’t know won’t hurt him.” I don’t know what had gotten into me, but I felt like the young school girl trying to get back at the boy who just yanked her braids.

  “Petulance doesn’t suit you, Logan. Won’t he be looking for you?”

  I took a deep breath to calm my shattering nerves. What the bloody hell was wrong with me?

  “No, he won’t. I left him.”

  I could have sworn Daniel’s ears perked up like some bird dog going on point.

  “You left him? What does that mean?”

  What are you, daft? There I went again. What was it about this man that got on my last nerve?

  “I mean, I packed my bags and left him. That’s why I’m here, to figure out what I want to do.” And who I really am. “Your turn. What are you doing here?”

  “I just found out I inherited the place. I met Raphael when I came to look it over, and he asked me to take care of the place while he took a trip.”

  Daniel reached over and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. His index finger trailed down the side of my face. I shivered and looked down at the floor. He stood.

  “You’re here for as long as you need to be. Let’s get you to your room.”

  “But what about my clothes?”

  “I’ll find someplace to dry them as soon as we get you settled into your room.”

  The unstructured evening lay ahead of me like the gale battering the house from all directions. I tried to write, then read, but I couldn’t get my head around it. Restless, I went in search of Daniel and found him in the library.

  “What are you doing?” I assumed a pose of studied insouciance, draped over one of the high-back chairs.

  A small smile lit the corners of his mouth as he studied me. “Learning about my heritage.”

  “And what have you learned so far?” I examined the cuticles on my right hand.

  “The woman in the paintings is my great-great-grandmother Anais, and she was into some pretty kinky stuff.”

  I took a look around at the paintings adorning the walls between the shelves of books. “Um, that’s pretty evident.”

  “I mean even more so than these paintings would lead us to believe.” He gestured to the chair I leaned on. “Take a seat.”

  I curled up in the large Queen Anne chair. “How so?”

  “It would appear that she was a submissive and a dominatrix. I’m not sure what you’d call that.”

  “A switch. So she was into BDSM.”

  That intense blue gaze bore into me. “A what?”

  “A switch. People in the BDSM community who switch between the submissive and dominant roles are called switches.”

  “How do you know this?”

  “I read a lot. How do you think I know?”

  “I didn’t think, that’s why I asked.”

  I studied his face ready to pounce on the sarcasm, but there was none to be found. Stop comparing him to Greg. I coughed.

  “How do you feel about that?” I braced myself for his rejoining ‘About what,’ expecting yet again the same reaction I’d grown used to from Greg over the years.

  “It explains a lot of things.” Daniel smiled ruefully.

  “Like?”

  Danger and warning flashed through those magnetic blue eyes, his message loud and clear. Did I want to explore this? Had I lost my mind suddenly? And yet, the thought jolted through me—with this man, I’d do anything. I was scared to death.

  Chapter 10

  Daniel

  I looked across at Logan. The soft rise and fall of those splendid breasts held my attention. My God she was beautiful, and I wanted her…fiercely. I’d been able to think of little else since she’d so fortuitously arrived and thoughts of her hot body consumed my mind. Was I ready to go down this road with my partner’s wife?

  Logan sat forward, her thick brown hair cascading over her shoulders, sapphire eyes fixed on mine. For a split second, I thought of evading her question, but something about her compelled me to tell the truth—at least as much of it as I knew. I cleared my throat.

  “It explains some of my tendencies, it’s genetic.”

  I almost squirmed under the steadiness of her gaze. Again, she said, “Like?”

  “This is getting a little bit personal given our professional relationship, wouldn’t you think?”

  She cocked her head a little to the side as if catching a whiff of something that smelled bad.

  “I didn’t realize a few words exchanged at company functions constituted a relationship, and if you’re referring to Greg, he and I are two different people.”

  The edge in her tone sliced right through me. Amazed, I returned her gaze. What happened to the sweet, doting Stepford wife I’d known all these years. Ah, but there was the operative word: known. Truth be told, I knew very little about her. I fell into the whirlpool of sparks coming from her eyes.

  “You’re right, and I apologize. It’s just that I’m not used to talking on such an intimate level with other people.”

  She slid back in the chair, and a bright smile illuminated her face. The kind of smile that hides a secret.

  “No, it’s me who should be apologizing. I guess I’m still a little bit prickly right now. How about this…I’ll tell you one of my fantasies if you tell me one of your tendencies.” She looked at her lap, and a blush of pretty pink flashed across her cheeks. It was everything I could do not to cross the room and grasp those cheeks, consuming those full lips.

  As my cock stiffened, I sent up a prayer of gratitude for the loose lounge pants I wore. I sat back and considered my options. By all reports, the storm raging outside was a full-fledged hurricane, and we could be stuck here together for some time. If that was the case, it was best to keep things on an even keel. The last thing I needed was Logan throwing some sort of hysterical fit because I’d offended her sensibilities. And yet, a little voice inside told me that’s exactly what I should be doing. If I was right, my whole world was about to change. Not something to take lightly. What if she couldn’t accept who I really was?

  “I’ll need a drink for this one. Can I get you anything?”

  “Is there any wine?”

  “A whole cellar of it. Red or white?”

  “Red. May I help?”

  Seriously? Now that was the Logan I remembered, all nice and polite and upper-middle-class crust.
>
  “No, I think I can manage.”

  My heart hammered in my chest as I made my way back to the kitchen. What the hell kind of game was she starting to play here? Or maybe it’s not a game. When I’d lived with Justine, she’d pretended she was interested in my sexual proclivities. I’d even fallen for it a few times and poured my young heart out. That was in the days when I believed there was a soul mate out there who would eagerly embrace what I thought of as a few weird quirks.

  I was wrong. I’d never forget the day she’d castigated me as a pervert, her thin upper lip curling over those perfect white teeth. She made me feel twisted and small. For the longest time, I couldn’t even look at myself in a mirror without wondering if she was right. Was I that different? That dysfunctional?

  I’d vowed never again to reveal myself, and here I was, about to do it again. I’d decanted a bottle of Tuscan Montepulciano and poured a healthy glass of it. I added a dollop of Pepsi to the double Jamaican rum I mixed for myself and took a big swig of it. It sucked the breath right out of me, and I checked the bottle. Easy man, that’s 90 proof.

  Logan blew on a pile of paper and kindling she’d mounded in the fireplace. I placed the drinks on the coffee table and crouched beside her.

  “Here, let me,” I said.

  “I’ve got this.” She struck another match and held it to the paper blowing as it caught. It burned for a few seconds and went out.

  I put my hand over hers to take the matches, and her heat burned through me as if she’d lit a fuse and my core was the bomb. I twitched in surprise.

  “What? I told you I had this.” She struck another match.

  “You won’t get it going that way.”

  “Oh yeah, mister. Well, just watch me. I was a C.G.I.T., you know.”

  “And what the hell is a C.G.I.T.?”

  “A Canadian Girl in Training. Kind of like a Girl Guide, and I’m telling you this will work.”

  “And I was a Boy Scout, and I’m telling you it won’t.”

  “How much do you want to bet?”

  “Are you always this ornery?”

  She laughed.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “I’m never this arbitrary. I don’t know what’s gotten into me. It must be that hit on the head.” She continued to blow on the flimsy flame sputtering beneath the kindling. “So, how much do you want to bet?”

  I cocked my head and considered for a moment. “How about if you win, I’ll tell you one of my deepest, darkest secrets, and if I win, you’ll tell me one of yours.” I rocked back on my haunches and waited.

  “You’re pretty sure of yourself, aren’t you?”

  “Yup.” I watched in amazement as she reached for the bellows. Her breasts bounced as she opened and closed them. My cock jumped to attention once again.

  The flame caught.

  “Okay, now where were we?”

  “You’re going to tell me about your deepest, darkest secret.” She poked a finger into my chest and batted long, curved lashes. She walked over to the sofa and wrapped herself in the afghan draped over the back of it, and lifted the glass of wine to her lips.

  I joined her taking a healthy swig of my drink. “Okay, here goes. I’d like to try some real BDSM. Your turn.”

  “Oh no you don’t, buster. That hardly even scratches the surface. Deets, I need deets.”

  I sighed. This woman was proving to be a real challenge. The kind of challenge you like. Did I dare tell her the truth? There was only one way to find out. In went another swig for courage, and I went for it.

  “I’d like to meet the kind of woman who’d enjoy being draped over a whipping bench, flogged, and fucked from behind.” I returned her intense stare expecting her to bolt any second.

  She took another sip of the wine. “And what are you going to do with her when you meet her?”

  Should I pretend to misunderstand her? This was not at all the reaction I’d expected.

  “I’m going to have her strip naked, drape her over a whipping bench, flog her, and fuck her from behind.” I kept my tone low and deliberate.

  She took another drink without taking her eyes from me. Those eyes were the color of a deep sea I could drown in. “Do people actually do that kind of thing?”

  “You’re kidding me, right? You know they do.”

  She colored a bright red and choked on her wine. I reached over and rescued the wine in the nick of time. It took a minute for her to get the coughing under control. “Oh, shoot. Sorry.” She shot another penetrating gaze at me. “And just how would I know that?”

  “Because you wrote about it in Raven’s Torment.”

  She stared at me, the expression on her face could have been the model for Munch’s The Scream. Then she doubled over and howled with laughter, literally howled. Every muscle in her took part in that laugh and tears streamed down her face until she was gasping for air.

  “Oh my gosh, oh my gosh. That’s too funny.”

  Although I was delighted to see some life in this staid, upright woman, I hadn’t the faintest idea what she found so funny.

  “What’s too funny?”

  “You. Are you telling me you read Raven’s Torment?”

  “Why do you think that’s so odd?”

  “Because guys would rather drop dead than read my stuff. They think it’s perverse and perverted. That’s when it’s not sappy, that is.” She retrieved her wine glass and studied the contents.

  “But, that can hardly be true if nine percent of men are romance readers. And that doesn’t even account for all those husbands ordering books in their wives’ names.”

  “That’s just marketing propaganda. Only women without a mind read that kind of garbage.”

  “Who told you that bullshit?”

  “Greg…”

  And the elephant entered the room. Logan gulped her wine and rushed over to the window, peering out through the thick drapes.

  “Doesn’t look like the storm’s letting up. I guess I’m here for tonight.”

  Her upset at Greg’s name baffled me, but I decided to let it go…for now. Discretion being the greater part of valor suddenly seemed important.

  “Come on, I’d better get you to your room. It’s late, and obviously we aren’t going anywhere until this storm ends. We could both use a good night’s sleep.

  She trailed behind me to the master bedroom. I stood at the doorway and gestured for her to precede me in what had obviously been Anais’s room. The owner of the adjoining room was still a mystery. Had it been the two boys who helped her escape the clutches of Reverend Griffin? Logan’s gasp brought me back to reality.

  “Oh my goodness, it’s lovely.” She circled the bed and bounced on the edge.

  I pointed toward the adjoining bath. “You’ll find everything you need in there, including a spare toothbrush. That should do the trick until tomorrow. I’ll see if I can rescue your bags in the morning.”

  I followed her into the bath and smiled as she oohed and ahhed over the large clawfoot bathtub. I opened the door leading to my suite. “I’ll be right in here.”

  Her eyes widened, and she pursed her lips.

  “Don’t worry. You can lock the door on your side. I won’t bother you.”

  She frowned. “It’s not that. It’s just…”

  Her distress was palpable, and I couldn’t help myself. I stepped close to her and tucked a long, luxurious curl behind her ear. She trembled slightly at my touch. I slid a finger under her chin and tipped her head.

  “It’s just what then?”

  Tears shimmered in her eyes. “It’s just that… Look, I’m sorry if I’ve been a bit prickly. It’s been a rough couple of days and now this.” She swept a hand taking in the bathroom and her bedroom.

  “Now what? You came prepared to stay, so what’s the problem?”

  “Never mind. It’s no problem.” She turned to go. I put my arm on the doorframe beside her head, making it impossible for her to move without pushing me.

  “Somet
hing’s obviously bothering you, Logan. Spill.”

  She put her hands up and pushed against my chest. Her small frame was no match for my one hundred ninety pounds of lean muscle. I didn’t budge. She bent over trying to get under my arm. Still, I didn’t budge. Her hands fisted into tense balls of frustration. With a low moan of vexation, she lowered her head. My cock bolted upright. At that moment, I vowed to make her moan like that again, only with desire. I couldn’t stop thinking of her that way.

  “It’s just what?” I lifted her chin and peered into those depths of those indigo eyes.

  She reached up and moved my hand. “Please don’t kiss me.” Her breath fell hot and damp on my bare chest.

  I slid my fingers down her neck across her chest and around the molded curve of her heavy breast. A quiet shudder ran through her as she leaned into my exploring hand.

  “No? Why not?”

  Tears streaked across those high cheekbones. I stepped back.

  “I never have and never will take a woman against her will. But I think you’re sending mixed messages here.”

  “I… You know why.” She slipped by me into her room. “I’m sorry, Daniel. I didn’t mean to imply. Um, well, good night.” She closed the door in my face.

  After a moment’s hesitation while I pondered the mysteries of this enigmatic woman, I tapped on the door.

  “I’m leaving now, so you can feel free to use the facilities. Sleep well.”

  Alone with the fire for company, I reviewed the day’s events. How could one woman appear to beguile and repel at the same time? One thing was for damned sure; I was going to find out.

  Chapter 11

  Logan

  Daniel was my first thought when I woke the next morning. The scent of eroticism crept out of the very pores of the old house. Penetrating. Insistent. I propped myself up on a stack of pillows and stared up at a painting of that very beautiful woman I’d seen on the tea tray that very first day. In the portrait, she lay on a chaise lounge, identical to the one in the great room, draped with some gauzy material intertwined around her limbs. She reached out to two incredibly handsome young men relaxed at either end of the lounge, looking down at her with adoration.