NINE

When she arrived at the office the next morning, she came down the hall on brisk heels, her mind already on the things she needed to do. Since she’d be meeting with the board at lunch, she was wearing her pearls and dark suit, anticipating her usual power struggles with Mel and the other handful of members who wished she would retire from the board and tend to her gardening. Maybe Mel would be better due to their last interaction, and the others would fall in line behind him. She didn’t put a lot of stock in it improving Larry’s behavior, however.

Ellen was at her desk as usual, but she had an odd expression on her face. When Athena entered her reception area, she rose, looking flustered. “Ah, Mrs. Summers. You have a visitor this morning . . .”

As she glanced past Ellen, she was startled to see Dale. He’d risen when Ellen had and now stood squarely facing her. He was wearing his boots and a dark T-shirt tucked into belted jeans. It seemed to be his preferred fashion statement, one she personally felt worked on him anywhere. The mere sight of him made everything flip-flop, like she was sitting naked on his bed again, doing his bidding, doing any unspeakable, incredible thing he demanded.

The fact those blue-green eyes were cool, direct—a Master’s eyes—didn’t mitigate that feeling in the slightest. His body language broadcast it as well. Surely he wouldn’t act inappropriately at her place of business. Or would he? As her pulse ramped up, she told herself not to be ridiculous. She was in control of this situation. They weren’t Master-sub at the moment, no matter that his very presence made her feel like they were.

“Dale,” she said, summoning the appropriate smile, which of course felt inordinately fake. “What an unexpected pleasure. Did you—”

“We need to talk about this.” He lifted a thick envelope that displayed her bank’s logo.

Though his tone was blandly courteous, he didn’t smile. Before she could think of another polite response, or invite him into her office, he’d taken a step forward, closed his fingers on her elbow and was directing her there. Just like that, he’d taken control of the situation. Catching the bemused expression on Ellen’s face, she managed to speak with a calmness she didn’t feel. “Hold my calls, Ellen.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Once inside her office, he released her elbow, but only to close her door. She moved to her desk, pivoted to stand behind her chair and face him. In hindsight, she wasn’t sure why she’d chosen to put such a barricade between them, but he recognized it as a shield, his gaze narrowing upon her. “Come out here, in front of me.”

His tone had sharpened like a knife, the eyes even cooler now. She lifted her chin. “What if I say no? You didn’t strike me as the type of man intimidated by a businesswoman.”

“Does anything about me suggest I’m intimidated, Athena?”

Not a damn thing.

He bared his teeth in a smile, her expression apparently giving him the answer to the question. “If you refuse to come out from behind the desk, I have two possible responses. One, I leave and we’re done, because if you say no and mean it, that says you’re not ready for what you claim to want from me.”

Her reaction to his walking out the door was strong enough to make her put tented fingers on the back of the chair to brace herself. Images of everything going back to exactly what they were like before their first meeting at her house flipped through her mind like one of those cartoon books, the ones where the characters moved at the pace of the riffled pages. Every page a slight movement, so the frames helped the character move forward . . . or backward.

She’d always thought the painstaking work of the artists, their passion, had to be akin to monks illuminating manuscripts, one perfect letter at a time. Did they ever recognize that connection themselves, or was it just tedious? Maybe the monks had felt the same way. Maybe they hadn’t seen it the way those who admired it did. As a complex process, step by step, to create something amazing.

“And behind door number two?” she said, noting her voice had a strained note to it. His gaze caressed her face, even as his expression remained uncompromising.

“I come behind that desk and get you. Whatever you imagine, I promise you will not like that option. You’re not going to yank my chain and not get bitten.”

She didn’t know what he meant, but for some reason she didn’t want to ask him to clarify. “I’m not afraid of you.”

“Yeah, you are. Not in the way you mean, though. You know I’d never do anything to truly harm you, and I’d break the fucking arm of anyone who did.” The different tone sent a ripple through her. “You’re afraid of what I’m doing to you, who you become when you’re with me. Come out from behind the desk. Now.”

She obeyed. She wasn’t sure what to do, if she should lean her hips casually on the front of her desk like a cat pretending she’d meant to fall off a railing, when she’d really lost her footing and ended up where she hadn’t expected. He took the decision from her, surprising her by closing his hands over hers in a gentle way. Her slim fingers looked small inside his grip. She’d missed that. Roy had been a big man, and she’d always liked the difference in their sizes, the way it could make her feel so feminine.

Dale rubbed his thumbs over her palms. “How were things this week? And I’m not looking for a rundown of your itinerary. Was it a good kind of crazy? Like a teenage girl waiting for roses?”

She flushed, but he squeezed her hands. “Answer me, Athena.”

“Yes.”

“But it wasn’t all good, was it? There was something bugging you, eating at your gut.”

When she didn’t say anything, he sighed. “The first day, maybe you felt like you were at a carnival, thrilled with how unpredictable things are. But after that, it started to feel like it does when it’s getting late and the carnival is packing up. The fantasy is over, so where does that leave you? You did this thing with the trust, the check, and then you felt way better. Glowing.”

He was right. Startled, she ran it over in her head, feeling him watching her, waiting on her, waiting for it to make sense. She pressed her lips together. “I don’t understand.”

“Yeah, you do.” He tapped the top of her hand with a thumb. “When you acted as a Mistress for Roy, I bet you were like a sponge, absorbing every impression. You learned from other Dommes, from their subs, from Roy’s own responses. You have great intuition, and the fact you’re a successful businesswoman tells me you’re good at reading people. It’s really not so hard to understand both sides of the coin once you’re born into at least one side of it. So what were you doing, Athena? Put yourself in a Mistress’s shoes and evaluate what you did.”

The shift brought a click, like a key turning a lock. The moment it did, she wished she could close the door, but she couldn’t, because he’d made her open it, face it.

She’d been holding on to control. Taking it back from him, afraid to let him hold the reins. Damn it. It was pitifully obvious. How could she be so stupid?

“Hey. Look at me.”

It was too difficult, but he put a hand on her face, guided it to obey his direction. “If you give yourself shit for it, you’ll have an even bigger punishment coming than you already do.”

Her stomach fluttered at that, but she couldn’t suppress the self-castigation. “I’m sorry, Dale.”

His lips twisted. “You have to do everything exactly right, or you’ve fallen short, haven’t you, Ms. Perfectionist? Failed yourself, failed me.”

She pulled away, moved to the window. She resisted the desire to cross her arms, assume a defensive posture. “You’re right. I’m new to this. It’s not an excuse, but—”

“Stop talking.”

She closed her mouth, startled by the mild command, when his expression wasn’t mild at all. Those blue-green eyes had gone laser sharp. As he stepped up beside her, she quelled an absurd urge to hide behind her desk again, but the implied threat in his proximity wasn’t entirely unwelcome, given that her fingers were curling against her sides, wanting to touch him.

“You put yourself together so well, Athena.” His gaze coursed over her, from the light flush in her cheeks to the tips of her polished heels. “Nice outfit, appropriate for an office setting. The skirt a little snug, enough to show you have a good ass, but not flaunting it. The blouse exposing those delicate collarbones, reminding a man you’re a woman. And more, reminding him he’s a man, and all those differences between you. Proper and enticing, all at once. Don’t even need that hint of lace you can see at this angle.”

She started to glance down, but he intercepted her, fingers catching her chin. “Your body belongs to me, girl,” he said. “And you don’t have permission to look at it right now.”

When he released her chin, she kept her eyes fixed on his, her head up. He nodded in approval, slid his knuckle down her sternum, then over, inside the collar, teasing the lace under the silk. Her nerves tingled at the heat of the direct touch. “You didn’t fail me, Athena. Or yourself. By the time I leave this office, you’ll understand that. And you’ll feel much better about everything. In a real way this time. Even though the carnival packed up, you’ll know there’s something even better in that empty field. Do you want to trust that I’m right?”

“Yes. I want to trust you.” She wanted to trust him with everything she was. She wanted to say yes, she did trust him, but of course he’d just proven that she didn’t.

“All right. Does your office door lock?”

She nodded. His lips firmed into a line. “Yes sir,” she corrected herself. Just like that, the environment shifted from any uncertainty about their roles to a clear line between Master and sub. There was a relief to it, even though it scared her, too, given she was right in the heart of a place that was all about her being in control. Dale had obviously intended to confront her here for that very reason.

“How much can your assistant hear through the walls?”

“They’re not soundproof, but the walls are well insulated. Conversation sounds like a distant murmur when the door is closed.” Her heart was moving up in her chest, closing in on the pulse in her throat. She needed to tell him they couldn’t . . . not here. But she couldn’t seem to say anything. A war was going on in her stomach. That uneasy, uncertain feeling she’d experienced before she decided to send the check was back now, but it was competing with her response to what he was implying. She didn’t know how to resolve it, or feel right about it, so she did nothing. He’d put her in a position of waiting to see what he would do. How he would resolve it.

She was giving him control.

She was amazed at how that cold ball became a little less painful at the realization. It wasn’t gone, but something was on the right track. That feeling intensified when he settled his hand at the base of her throat, collaring her.

“Do you know where I’m going with this, girl?”

“I—I think so. Maybe . . . no.”

His lips twitched, his thumb sliding along her jaw. “Send your assistant out to get an order of fresh beignets. Does she lock the outer office when she’s not at her desk, even if you’re here?”

“Yes. There are files that—”

The pressure of his fingers increased, his gaze steady on hers.

“Yes sir.”

“Good.” He leaned in, and her lips parted. His gaze flickered, as if he’d felt the soft exhalation of her breath on his skin, and a shiver went through her. Her hands were still tense balls at her sides. “How long do you think that will take her?”

“About twenty-five minutes.” She glanced at the clock. “More, if there’s still a morning crowd.”

“So a half hour. That will be sufficient.” Releasing her, he reached back, pulled his wallet from his jeans pocket and removed a twenty from it.

“Oh, I can—”

“No. You won’t. Not ever with me.” When he so chose, he had a gaze like a tiger’s glittering in the dark. His fingers closed over hers, transferring the bill to her palm. “Go do what I told you to do.”

She was surprised her quivering legs obeyed her, but they did. She moved toward the door, having the presence of mind to take a few steadying breaths, something that would hopefully make her cheeks a shade less than scarlet, before she opened it and stepped out into the admin’s area. “Ellen, I need you to . . .”

As she relayed Dale’s instructions as if they were her own, she put the money on the edge of Ellen’s desk, not trusting herself to hand it over. Ellen would certainly feel the tremor in her fingers. Athena had a lot of practice at staying cool under fire, though, and it stood her well now. Except for the speculation she could tell Ellen was entertaining, having wisely deduced this was Athena’s Wednesday lunch date, her assistant didn’t show any surprise at the request or her boss’s expression.

“It may take a few minutes. You know this is their busy time of morning.”

“No problem. Mr. Rousseau and I will be working out the details of the trust for his shelter, so he should be here for the next half hour at least.”

Ellen nodded, already rising to gather up her purse and the money. She did offer Athena a playful look of female conspiracy, mouthing wow. It didn’t take any brain cells to know Ellen was reacting to Dale’s appearance, and of course wow fit. He wasn’t a pretty man, but he had the rugged looks and confident, powerful bearing that would turn any woman’s head. Plus, there was that dominant, purely sexual quality to him that drew female attention, whether the woman in question recognized it for what it was or not.

“You want me to lock my door like I usually do?”

“Yes, go ahead and do that. I’d like to get this done without interruption, and you know Larry might decide to ambush me before the meeting to dry run some of his usual power plays.”

Ellen rolled her eyes. “Yes ma’am.” And then she was gone, making sure the button lock was in place before she drew the heavy wooden door closed behind her.

Athena pivoted, came back into her office. She emulated Ellen’s actions, pushing in the button lock and closing the door. Now it was just the two of them. Dale was standing at the window, looking down on the New Orleans business district. But he turned as the door closed, with that look that made her knees even weaker and her mind scatter.

“Take off everything but the pearls, heels and stockings.”

The trembling she’d mostly contained in front of Ellen took her over then, every limb quivering. She removed her jacket and shell, unzipping her skirt. As she took off each piece of the uniform she’d donned to deal with her board, she felt like his attention was removing any layers or shielding beneath it, stripping it all away. She reached back, unhooked her bra, let it slide off her arms. Then her panties. Her windows were tinted, so facing buildings couldn’t see what she was doing, but it was still perturbing to look at the bank across the street and see people so clearly through their non-tinted windows. Employees working at their desks, secretaries running copies, meetings in progress in posh boardrooms.

Dale began to close her blinds. They allowed filtered light, but to such a lesser extent it created the sense of a hushed cave, underscoring their privacy. He left one blind up, a three-foot-wide section of the facing building and sky backdrop still visible, and shifted in front of it, drawing her attention to him. “This is about you and me,” he said.

“Yes sir.”

“Stand there, just like that.” He moved across the room to her desk, gazed at the files on it, the computer screen. She knew he was seeing her screensaver, a montage of different flowers slowly opening their blooms. He looked in her middle drawer, found what he was seeking. Withdrawing the wooden ruler, he slapped it against his hand. The crack made her jump.

A million things were going on inside her. Uncertainty, anxiety, arousal. She didn’t realize she’d closed her eyes until his fingers brushed her lips, making her lift her lashes. “I’m scared,” she said.

“Why?” His voice was tender now, and tears stung her eyes.

“Because I’m afraid of how all this makes me feel. I can’t control anything.”

“You control everything, Athena. You tested me, to see what I’d do. These are the consequences you wanted. Proof that I’m your Master.”

At her distressed look, he shook his head, sliding his arm around her waist, settling his fingers over the curve of her buttock. She leaned into him and he allowed it, brushing a kiss over her forehead. Her bare thigh was pressed against his denim-covered one, her breasts against the T-shirt stretched over his broad chest. “I’m not saying you manipulated things deliberately. This is part of the way it works, with a sub like you.”

“So I’m predictable?” She tried to rally some spirit about it and was rewarded when he smiled, those eyes sparkling at her like Caribbean waters.

“Not a chance. I didn’t anticipate you taking that exact tactic, though I knew you were having trouble with our conversation. That’s why I wanted to give you a few days, see what you’d do with it, where it would take us next.”

“So you’re not really going to hit me with that?” She cast a dubious look at the ruler.

“Oh, hell yeah.” He chuckled, a wicked sound. “I want you sitting on a sore ass during your important meeting, thinking about me.” He lifted a strand of hair off her forehead. “But if you want me to corner Larry in a dark alley and make him scream like a little girl, I’ll be happy to do that. I don’t like to hear that anyone is giving my girl a hard time.” At her ironic look, he grinned. “Except me.”

Stepping back, he nodded toward the one window that wasn’t covered by a blind. “Go over there. Put your palms flat on the glass, and then step back as far as you can from it without taking your hands from the window. Raise your ass and spread your legs shoulder-width apart. Your Master plans to play with what’s his during your punishment.”

The particular part of her anatomy he was referencing liquefied. Her breasts felt tender, her nipples getting tight under his close regard.

“Don’t keep me waiting. Unless you want Ellen to hear you getting your bottom whipped for trying to control things with your Master.”

She moved to the window. She felt disembodied. Yes, she’d had punishment scenarios with Roy, but this . . . had it felt like this for him? She didn’t think so. While Dale had been almost kind when she realized she’d actually solicited this, his intentions were inexorable. What’s more, the war in her lower abdomen between need, arousal and anxiety told her she craved the definitive reinforcement that she was the submissive in the relationship.

She put her palms on the glass, and walked her feet back as he’d instructed. She was leaning toward the window, her body stretched out. When she spread her legs, it was both uncomfortable and exposed, which she was certain was his intention. Her vacillating reactions intensified.

Dale moved into her field of vision. He’d removed the stress ball from her desk. It was the size of a small apple and yellow, with the Summers’ logo printed on it, a sun against some decorative elements. Dale nodded to her mouth. “Open wide. You’re going to be screaming by the time I’m done, and this will keep the rest of the building from calling security.”

It was bigger than her mouth, but he squeezed it down enough to get it past her teeth, and then it expanded, pressing against her tongue and the roof of her mouth, filling that cavern completely, as if its intended purpose was being a ball gag. Too big to cause a choking risk, but muffling any sound she made, it increased her sense of vulnerability. A safe word wasn’t possible, and he didn’t seem inclined to suggest a safe gesture.

“You need the punishment,” he said, as if reading her mind. “You don’t get an out for that. Trust me to know what you can handle. I can read your body language, Athena. That’s your safe word.”

He ran his hand over her buttocks, gripping the left one, his thumb sliding along her labia. “Higher, girl. Show me how pink and wet you are, thinking about your Master punishing you, making things right again.”

She lifted her hips to a more extreme angle, whimpered against the ball as he slid two fingers inside her, proving how slick she already was. “There she is. My gorgeous girl.”

She liked it when he called her girl. He used the same tone as other Masters or Mistresses did when they called their subs pet, slut, even slave. It wasn’t a debasement, but a mutually craved sign of ownership. My girl, my pet, my slave. He’d called her that earlier, hadn’t he?

“I’m going to give you fifteen smacks with this. I think that’ll cover it. Then I’m going to fuck you, right here in your office. You’re not going to get to come. This is about you understanding that I’m your Master. You serve me. That’s how you find what you’re seeking, Athena. By giving it all to your Master, trusting him to take you where you need to go, give you what you need.”

Her fingers curled against the glass, those tears threatening again. Remembering the last punishment he’d given her, she had a feeling they were about to be doing more than threatening.

He put his palm against her abdomen to hold her in place. On the first strike, she curved over that touch, her ass tucking down at the outrageously painful sting.

“Ass up,” he snapped. “Don’t you hide from your punishment.”

On trembling legs, she obeyed, crying out against the gag as the second blow fell on the opposite buttock. He alternated, though a few landed solidly over both, a couple on her upper thighs, sending a stinging echo through her pussy. His hand slipped down, his fingers now pressing on her clit, not manipulating or caressing it, simply capturing it between his knuckles, squeezing with firm pressure. “Don’t you move,” he warned her. “Every time you move enough to shift my hold, you’ll get one more strike.”

Oh God. Did he realize how impossible it was to keep the body from reacting to pain with movement? Of course he did. While rationally she knew she wasn’t being permanently maimed, that the marks he left might be gone in a day, the pain activated a flight instinct hard to defeat. She couldn’t stop herself on stroke fourteen, cursing against the ball as her jerk of reaction made his knuckles slide off her clit briefly. Her swollen clit.

He clamped back down on it, gave her the next two in quick succession. Fortunately, he didn’t count the penalty shot against her, because she twitched again. Her ass was on fire. If he kept going, he’d have to go on forever, because she knew she couldn’t bear it in stillness any longer.

He’d said he wanted to think about her sitting on her sore ass. Sitting was going to be out of the question. She’d be doing a lot of standing at that meeting. Unless he ordered her to sit, since his mind tended to work that way. She cursed and craved it at once.

Her hands were pressed so hard against the glass she knew she’d need to pull down the blind until she could wash off her prints. It was a fleeting thought, because Dale’s grip left her clit as he shifted behind her. She heard him unbuckling his belt, unzipping his jeans. A condom being ripped open. He was really going to do everything he’d promised. He—

No dramatic pause, no slow easing this time. He slammed into her, pressing his pelvis tight against her throbbing bottom. He caught her breasts in both hands, tweaking the nipples, squeezing them with rough male pleasure as she moaned in an entirely different way. Now she would have welcomed that touch on her clit, but he’d promised she wouldn’t get a release out of this. This was about serving her Master’s pleasure. That thought made her hotter, her clit throb even more than her abused buttocks. Her sounds of pain had become ones of needy pleasure.

“That’s my shameless girl,” he muttered. “Fuck, your cunt feels like heaven. I missed you like hell this week. Even if you hadn’t done a single . . . thing . . . wrong”—he punctuated every one of the three words with an extra hard thrust—“I probably would have whipped your ass for having to be away from you.”

She cried out against the gag. He’d missed her. Being away from her hadn’t been easy for him. He was so laconic yet brutally honest, such a brief statement unleashed a whole flood of new emotions inside her. He was ruthless, tough, totally in control. Her Master.

He climaxed then, and she wished he hadn’t donned a condom. She wanted to feel him jet inside her. She reveled in his harsh groan, the way he grunted with satisfaction as he received the full measure from her. Her inner muscles milked him, one of many ways her body was communicating how much she wanted to keep him there, even if she missed the board meeting or if Ellen came back. Now she understood why teenagers were so irresponsible when they were falling in love. It wasn’t that adults didn’t feel exactly the same way—adults just exercised better control. Mostly.

The thought snagged her. Was she falling in love with Dale? She couldn’t address that. She’d lost control of everything, particularly her thoughts and feelings.

When he pulled out, her shaking legs buckled. Her fingers reflexively tried to grip glass, but she needn’t have worried. He caught her around the waist, holding her steady. “Easy, girl. It’s all right. Let’s put you down here a moment while I take care of things.”

He eased her down to the carpet, her shoulder against the window. She lifted her gaze to see him strip off the condom, tuck himself back into his clothes. Tugging up the zipper so the jeans were held loosely on his hips, he grabbed a couple of tissues from the box on her desk to wrap up the condom. He put it in his jeans pocket, finished buttoning and buckling, tucking in his shirt. She was still vibrating, her clit swollen and pussy wet. She wanted him back inside her. She was also fixated on that small lump in his pocket. She’d worried he would act inappropriately at her place of business. Instead, he’d even avoided leaving behind any evidence of impropriety on her part, no matter that it was evidence someone would have to dig through her trash to find.

He’d told her, though, hadn’t he? A Master is about more than demanding every corner of a sub’s soul. He needs to be about protecting that soul as well.

She had tears on her face again. It seemed every time she was with him, he gave her a cathartic cry as well as a shattering climax. She was helpless to quell either reaction, her mind spinning in too many directions.

Leaning down, he slipped a finger into the corner of her mouth, worked the ball out, helped by the pressure of her tongue pushing against it. He put the gag aside, then he slid his arms beneath her legs and back and lifted her. She felt the shift as he accommodated the action on his two disparate limbs, but other than that, as always, her weight felt like no issue for him. Moving them over to the couch, he lowered himself to it, holding her in his lap.

“It’s all right,” he said, keeping his arms tight around her. “Just let it out, girl.”

She kept hiccupping over the sobs, the tears pouring out for a good five minutes before things slowed down. Her ass hurt, but her heart felt easier, things more . . . in balance. Just as he’d promised. She was still wound up as a teenager, though. Days of thinking about him, and now this, and still, no permission to . . .

He slid one hand between her thighs. The arm around her shoulders shifted so he could close his hand around her throat, nudge her chin up with his knuckles. He held her there, with her looking at him, as he found the heated flesh between her legs, began to stroke. And circle. And press . . . and pinch . . .

When she wanted to avert her face, self-conscious about how she must look, her makeup ruined, her eyes red from crying, mouth slack with desire, he shook his head. He pressed more insistently on her chin, increasing the strain on her neck, the sense of restraint.

“You’ll keep looking at me, Athena. All the way to the end. If you look away, I’ll stop.”

Her body twitched, her sore ass pressing down against his legs, then lifting, then dropping, starting to work in rhythm with him.

“Dale . . .” She needed to say his name. Her fingers had latched into the front of his shirt, her nails digging in.

“I’m right here with you, girl. Everything is safe with me. Everything you are.”

It happened so fast and hard, she barely had time to warn him, to beg, but he rode over top of the gasped words.

“Come for me. Come hard.” Then he had his mouth on hers, swallowing the scream, his hand shifting to cup the back of her head to hold her fast to him. His fingers never stopped their skillful manipulation of her clit, the stroke of her labia, the press of his knuckles between them. She was rolled over and over in the waves of her climax, the buildup of the week making it intense, long, and so incredibly satisfying that when it finally ebbed away, she felt like a sunbaked creature on a flat rock, so replete she never needed to move again.

He was still kissing her, his fingers making slow, soothing strokes over her pussy. By now she knew what her Master liked when it came to this. Despite the sensitivity of her tissues, she made herself stay still and kept her legs open to him. He shifted to hold her nape, pull her back. From the fierce male satisfaction in his face, she was sure she had a glazed, overwhelmed expression. His reaction gave her a different kind of heat, one no less welcome.

—

He helped her dress. She had a bathroom attached to her office so she could touch up her makeup, her hair, and while she did that, he sat on the commode lid, watching her silently. When she was done, she thought she’d pass inspection, though to herself she looked like a woman who’d been thoroughly pleasured and thrown off her axis, a little wild-eyed and sated at once.

He rose, tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, leaned in and brushed his lips over hers. “I’ll be going. I’ll pick up my beignet on the way out.”

“Ellen hasn’t . . .”

“She returned right when you climaxed. I heard the door unlock. You were a little preoccupied.”

“But she didn’t knock. She . . .” Athena turned scarlet. “Oh my God, if she . . .”

“She didn’t. I muffled the sound with my mouth, remember?” He smiled. “She was making enough noise out there to let you know she was back. Closed the file cabinets twice, made a phone call. She was smart enough to realize we’d open the door when we wanted the beignets.”

“You heard all that?”

He shrugged. “It’s my job to pay attention. She’s a good assistant.”

“I don’t know if I should be mortified or impressed. With both of you.” She’d tensed up, thinking of Ellen’s reaction, but he put both hands on her shoulders, drawing her attention back to him.

“I expect she was respecting your privacy. She obviously cares for and admires you. I don’t think you’ve done a thing to tarnish your tiara.”

She caught the slight edge to his tone. “Dale, I wasn’t implying that I was embarrassed to be here with you. Just . . . doing something like that in my office. The board members are all male. They’re good men, most of them, but even so, I have to maintain certain expectations with them.”

“I get it. I do.” He touched her face. “But I’m going to go now.”

He slid past her, leaving her unsure if she’d offended him or not. “Master?” He turned at that, the look in his gaze intensifying at the address. “Can we . . . I’d like to see you again, sooner rather than later. May I?”

His jaw eased, making her feel better about speaking her feelings. The man encouraged an appalling level of honesty from her. “Yeah. You can. You like movies?”

She nodded.

“What’s your favorite movie of all time?”

“Ben-Hur. With Charlton Heston.”

His brow lifted. “A little before your time.”

“My mother took me to see it when I was little. I watch it every year at Easter.”

“Hmm.” He cocked his head. “Favorite scene?”

“I have a lot of them. But my most favorite is when he and Esther meet in the upstairs room, both before and after everything that happens.” She recalled the quote with a poignant smile. “‘If you were not a bride, I would kiss you good-bye.’ And she replies . . . ‘If I were not a bride, there would be no good-byes to be said.’”

“And he takes her slave ring, and promises to wear it until he meets the woman he’ll marry.”

She raised a brow. “You’ve seen it.”

“The gorgeous Israeli woman playing a slave caught my attention.”

She chuckled, she couldn’t help it. He closed the step between them, brushed her jaw with a fingertip. “We’ll plan on a movie or something like that, something a little less intense. Let me get some crap off my schedule and we’ll figure it out. Until then, I’ll call you every day. All right?”

She gave a half smile. “You don’t have to do that. I’m not that needy.” But she certainly didn’t object to the idea.

“I am. I want to hear your voice.” He gave her jaw a little squeeze. “Thanks for the money for the shelter, Mrs. Summers. The dogs appreciate it.”

“You’re going to take it?”

He blinked at her. “Of course I am. I never intended not to take the money—that’s for them, and I know you want to help. It was how you did it that caused the problem.”

She pursed her lips. “So I just paid for my punishment?”

Those attractive lines around his eyes creased. “A win-win, don’t you think?”

She swatted at his broad chest, and was caught to him for another thorough kiss for her trouble. She melted into it, reveling in the way his fingertips slid into her hair, the male noise he made against her mouth, how his scent surrounded her, the strength of his body.

When he released her, she knew she was ridiculously starry-eyed, but he looked pretty caught up as well. Confirming it, he gave her a reproving smack on her ass that made her wince. “Wanton. You should probably use a pillow for that board meeting.”

She’d do no such thing and he knew it. Thank goodness the chairs were cushioned. Regardless, she thought she’d be getting up and doing a lot of moving around during agenda points. He was headed for her office door, allowing her to thoroughly enjoy the view. Coming or going, he was a feast for female eyes.

“Leave me a beignet,” she said.

“Not a chance. You’re hard work, woman. I built up an appetite.”

Even so, when she headed out to her meeting later, she found he’d not only left her one of the pastries, he’d given Ellen one as well.

The man really was quite something.