"You know, Lara, if anyone was going to melt his heart, I was sure it was going to be you."

"Thanks for that." She walked Erin outside. The two hugged, and Erin gave her a rea.s.suring squeeze.

She'd barely pulled away when Suzy-Q made a break for it, bounding across the yard to plant her paws on Lara's shoulders and her lay her head on top of one. "BFF," she whispered to the dog.

Mrs. Fuhrman came over with a leash in hand. "I swear she loves you, Lara."

"It's mutual." She stroked behind the dog's ma.s.sive ears.

"What happened with the moving man?"

For weeks, Lara had wondered if Mrs. Fuhrman watched the neighborhood happenings from her window and sent the dog outside as an excuse to come and get her. The question confirmed her suspicions. "Things didn't work out," she said noncommittally.

"Well, the neighborhood wouldn't have been the same without you. But he was a strapping young thing, wasn't he? Odd that a moving company has their gentlemen wear such nice clothes."

She smiled, maybe for the first time in days.

After getting Suzy-Q on the leash, Lara went back inside.

The house seemed larger than usual, and emptier.

She was tempted to ignore the boxes, but it was better to have something to do than spend the rest of the evening moping.

Tucked inside her pile of lingerie, she found a jeweler's box. She opened it to see the wedding rings that he'd purchased.

Warning herself not to be stupid, she couldn't resist the impulse to try them on.

The fit was exact, and the setting suited her personality.

Light hit the diamond and refracted a hundred different directions. She traced a finger across the stone.

Touching the cold surface somehow made the ending of their relationship more final. When he'd packed her belongings, he'd included the things he'd bought for her, the ring, the black dress, the necklace.

The emotion she thought she'd been able to manage broke free. She sank onto the floor, curled her legs to her chest and began to cry.

Lara wished she could take back the last few weeks, pretend she'd never met Connor, never knelt before him or called him Sir, never felt his belt or experienced the uninhibited eroticism that came from letting him share a fantasy.

But as each memory returned, she wondered if that was true. If she hadn't gone to him, she would have missed the pain, but she would never have had the experiences that had changed who she was.

"You, my friend, don't look like a man who has been on his honeymoon."

Over the finest bottle of whisky distilled by one of Kennedy Aldrich's companies, Julien lifted his gla.s.s. f.u.c.k.

"I was waiting for you to tell me about it. I've been pretending I didn't know that you'd removed Lara as an administrator from your calendar app. I've said nothing, nothing at all, not a single word about the fact no one has filed a completed certificate of matrimonial bliss with your name on it. Ergo..."

He waited.

"The wedding didn't happen. You're not married. In fact, you're behaving like a rather miserable lout who no one wants to be around." Julien lifted his gla.s.s. "How'd I do?"

"You're called a genius for a reason," Connor agreed, downing the drink in a single swallow.

Julien shuddered. "It's for sipping, you heathen. Sipping."

He put down his gla.s.s.

"What do you think of the club?" Julien asked.

Julien had flown in to look at potential retail outlets for the next Bonds store, but at Kennedy's behest, he was checking out the local lifestyle club. The place was on the market, and Kennedy was interested in either buying it or investing in it.

"It's not what I'm accustomed to," Connor replied. Most clubs he'd been to weren't this upscale. They were in warehouses where late-evening comings and goings didn't bother residents. This was a house on several acres of secluded wooded land in exurban Houston, not likely to bother neighbors and offering plenty of discretion.

The two-story home had been significantly modified, with beams installed for suspension play, and walls had been knocked out between former bedrooms, creating large, open s.p.a.ces. There was a small lounge area with comfortable seating and small tables. Though alcohol wasn't generally served, they'd been allowed to bring in their own because they weren't partic.i.p.ating in any scenes. "I'd say it has potential. I'd want to see the former owner's profit and loss, though, before I got giddy about the possibilities." From where they sat, they had a view of an open s.p.a.ce that contained a spanking bench much like the one he had at home, one that he kept imagining Lara secured to.

"You don't get giddy about much. Never have."

"Why do I have a feeling I'm not going to like where this is going?" Connor asked.

"Because I'm going to meddle in your life. And you never like that. Let's just pretend this is a visit to the dentist and get it over with, shall we?"

A few couples wandered past. Two walked upstairs while another helped themselves to complimentary soft drinks and sat at a nearby table.

Since it was early, the music volume was still low, something he knew would change soon.

"Bad s.h.i.t happens in life," Julien said.

And because Julien knew what the h.e.l.l he was talking about, Connor agreed. "Random odds."

"You have choices along the way. Your father being in love with Stormy didn't get him killed."

He leveled a glance at his friend. "Proceed with caution."

"Oh, f.u.c.k bubbles. I didn't travel more than a thousand miles not to plow ahead with careless disregard for life or limb. How many mad, dashing affairs have you had? Oh, wait. Don't answer that. Dozens. So b.l.o.o.d.y many you need a statistician to help keep it straight."

"You have a point?"

"No matter who you married, you wouldn't have an affair. You wouldn't put yourself in that position."

In the main room, a woman entered, wearing ridiculously high heels. She had shapely calves, a nicely curved a.s.s...

"You wouldn't promise yourself to one woman then get another pregnant."

He tore his gaze away to look at Julien. "Love doesn't cheat."

"There you are."

"There...? What?"

"Love doesn't have to be a messy thing. It can be uncomplicated. Pure. Sustaining. Something that keeps you going. Look at your grandfather and Miss Libby. They've birthed a dynasty and have looked out for each other for over half a century. Look to that. Look to them. You, Connor, are not capable of tearing apart families. It's not in your moral fiber."

He looked back at the woman in the slinky, tight dress and the long hair. He couldn't quite make out the color, but... "G.o.d d.a.m.n you." Anger propelled him to his feet.

Julien grabbed him. "It's not her."

Connor looked again.

"It's not," Julien insisted.

He looked more closely. Julien was right. It couldn't possibly be Lara. The woman was much shorter, had a few more curves and her hair was significantly shorter. "How did you know?"

"For whatever reason, the woman says she loves you." With his finger, he made a little circle. "I know. Crazy talk, right? I'm sure she's still healing. She's not the type to go and replace you right away. I do question her judgment, though. Who the h.e.l.l would give her heart to someone who wouldn't protect it?"

Those words ravaged him, as Julien had probably intended.

It was his obligation, as a Dom, to have handled it better. As a Dom? f.u.c.k, as a human being. As a man.

The momentary blur of jealousy had taught him one thing. He could no longer deny the fact he loved Lara Bertrand. He just hoped his stupidity hadn't cost him the first woman who'd been brave enough to love him. He couldn't blame her if it had. He didn't deserve her.

Chapter Fourteen.

The commotion of multiple dogs barking shattered the silence.

"Suzy-Q, no!"

Lara turned down the television volume. In one of her less-than spectacular moments, she'd chosen an Indiana Jones film to pa.s.s the evening. The theme music alone had been enough to send her back in time to Connor's loft and the memory of snuggling on his couch. The sight of Indy with his bullwhip had made her squirm.

Unbelievably, she still missed Connor with the same kind of intensity, even though she repeatedly soothed herself with the reminder that time healed everything. Anyone who believed that had not experienced the power of a single tail on her bare skin, delivered by a Dom who was skilled with his whip and generous with his o.r.g.a.s.ms.

She was about to turn the volume back up when her doorbell rang. Wondering if Mrs. Fuhrman needed some help with her dogs, she slipped on a pair of flip-flops and answered the door.

Suzy-Q stood there, a giant bouquet of flowers hanging from the side of her mouth.

Confused, she reached to take them from the dog, and just as she did, Connor stepped onto the porch.

Her breath froze as she straightened.

He looked every bit as disarming as he always did, in a light-gray sweater and charcoal-colored slacks.

His jaw was shadowed and his eyes were smudged with fatigue.

Suzy-Q jumped, banging her head into Lara's. Connor reached to steady her as she dropped the flowers.

"She never behaves like this," Mrs. Fuhrman said, taking her time walking over. She had curlers in her hair, slippers on her feet and a robe cinched around her middle. "She saw the moving guy and forced open the front door. I shouted at her, but I couldn't come over until I put a robe on. I'm so sorry, Lara. Are you all right? Suzy-Q, get down right now!"

The dog happily did so, and she crushed the flowers beneath her bear-sized paw.

"It was a much better idea in theory," Connor said.

"It was perfect."

He attached Suzy-Q's leash and gave the dog back to Mrs. Fuhrman.

"I think she wants to adopt you," Mrs. Fuhrman said before walking away. "Sometimes dogs do that, you know."

Suddenly, it was just her and Connor. She leaned against the doorjamb, uncertain what to think, what to say, how to proceed.

He picked up the bouquet. Some of the petals fell off and several of the heads had been severed. A few blooms drooped over the side of the protective cellophane.

He offered it to her.

"I'm not sure I've ever had a more perfect gift." She accepted it and pressed it against her chest. "Thank you."

"Can I come in?"

She hesitated. "If this is about the communications deal, it's probably best if we meet at work."

"It's about us."

Her heart seemed to stop beating. She held the bouquet so close she crushed the few remaining perfect blooms.

"I'll stand out here all night, if you want."

"Okay," she said. It might be the only way to preserve her sanity. When he stood close, her resolve melted.

As if they were a shield, she kept the flowers between them.

"I went to see your father."

"You did...? Why?"

"To ask for your hand in marriage."

She stared at him. She'd heard words come out of his mouth, but she was sure they'd been in the wrong order. Or maybe she'd heard what she wanted to hear instead of what he'd actually said. "What? Why?" Her emotions slammed into one another-doubt, fear, distrust, each made her reel a little harder.

"Erin came to see me. She handed me my a.s.s."

"Chicks before d.i.c.ks," she said.

"And I...?"

"You are not a chick. I'll let you work out the rest."