In His Cuffs(22)

She eased off the accelerator, cranked up an oldies song on the  satellite radio and sang along. She couldn't carry a tune, but the noise  drowned out the nervous thoughts skittering through her mind.

After she left the highway, she turned down the radio so she could  follow the instructions from her GPS. She meandered west for several  miles. Houses became farther apart and civilisation seemed to disappear.

She left the main road and still had to drive a few miles to reach his place.

Though she'd lived in Colorado almost her entire life, she'd had no idea  that these houses on acres of verdant, rolling land existed.

As the GPS showed she was nearing her destination, her pulse picked up.  She was cognisant of her exposed nipples and the sensitive way they felt  against the fabric of her shirt. She and David had been together twice  before, and she told herself she should be nonchalant about their  upcoming night together. She was anything but.

Thoughts crowded into her mind, jostling for position.

She'd slept badly again last night, and had tossed the bedding off her  perspiration-drenched body. She'd climbed out of bed, had a glass of  water and waited for the nightmares to recede. What had replaced them  was scarier-the realisation that David held the key to keeping the bad  dreams at bay.

Maggie turned the car into his driveway and braked to a stop on the  steep concrete. The setting was idyllic, remote and quiet, a contrast to  the high-density area where she lived. Out here she heard birds,  including the screech of a red-tailed hawk.

Hands shaking from the sudden onslaught of excitement, she killed the  engine and reached for the bag she'd placed on the passenger seat.

She exited the vehicle to see David standing in the entryway with the  door open. His left shoulder was braced on the doorjamb, his feet were  crossed. He held a glass of something that might be white wine.

The bright sunshine danced on his dark hair. Damp ends clung to his nape.

She'd seen him dressed for business both in suits and in jeans with an  armband when he'd been serving as House Monitor. Whether he was  bare-chested or had rolled back his shirtsleeves and exposed his  forearms before he beat her, the sight of him stimulated her.                       
       
           



       

Here on his own turf, he seemed somehow even more competent and in  control. The Den was Master Damien's territory. At her condominium, she  felt comfortable. This sprawling house and grounds was his domain. He  didn't own it, he dominated it.

Maggie knew she hadn't made a mistake coming here, and the butterflies  battering around in her tummy were more thrilling than upsetting. She  wanted everything he had in store for her.

He moved towards her as she slammed the car door shut.

His black T-shirt conformed to his muscular frame. Blue jeans rode low  on his hips. He'd skipped a belt, but his motorcycle boots added a  rakish air.

David Tomlinson made her mouth water.

"Welcome," he said, his voice thick and foreboding. He took her bag and indicated she should precede him inside.

The massive, sun-drenched foyer took her breath. Arched windows soared  two storeys. She hadn't expected his place to be such an interesting mix  of modern and eclectic. Metal and wood. And stunningly, a waterfall  flowed down the far living room wall. Sectional furniture had been  positioned to take in the ambiance, and she could imagine sitting there,  lost in creative thought. "I might never leave."

"Good plan."

Their gazes met.

She'd said her words with flippant disregard, like she did when she  vacationed at a fancy resort. But he'd responded with a seriousness that  resonated deep inside her.

For a moment, she considered what it might be like to have him come home  to her and the expectations that went with that. She wasn't sure she  could manage it.

He placed her bag at the bottom of the stairs. "How about a glass of  wine? We'll have dinner a bit later. Steak and salad? You'll need to  keep your energy up for what I have in mind."

"I … " The reminder that they would be spending the night together chilled her. "Yes. To both. Thanks."

"Let me show you around so you feel comfortable. If you need anything, ask for it or help yourself. I don't stand on ceremony."

She followed him into the kitchen.

A bottle of wine stood on the stone-topped island with a glass next to it. The appliances were top of the line.

"Hot tub outside," he said as he poured a glass. "I'll put you in it before bed to loosen your muscles."

"I didn't bring a swimsuit."

"You wouldn't be allowed to wear it even if you had."

When they were together, he exerted his dominance in dozens of subtle, thrilling ways.

"Join me?"

She accepted the glass of wine and took a sip while he opened the French  doors and walked onto the deck. Maggie was careful with her shoes so  she didn't get her heels jammed between the redwood boards.

"Naked is better," he said.

"What about splinters?"

"I have the wood refinished every year. Believe me, Maggie, your safety is of utmost importance."

The tub was in its own gazebo off to the right of the deck. There were  numerous built- in benches and a couple of different tables placed near  them. The southern portion of the area was shaded by a trellis covered  with vines, and other areas were exposed to soak up the sun. "Is this  where you have your morning coffee?"

"Even when I have to shovel off the snow. The colder it is, the better the hot tub feels."

There was a manicured area then the wilderness claimed the property.

"Is that a deer out there?"

"Very likely."

She followed him back inside. "I love the living room."

"We'll begin our play there."

He picked up her bag and carried it up the stairs. A loft overlooked the  first floor. He had a home office, all black and chrome with a glass  desk. Two enormous flat-screen monitors formed a straight line. That  left little space for personal effects.

"This looks like command central." Only more sterile.

"I spend most of my time here," he said.

He needed someone to jazz up his life.

After showing her a couple of guest bedrooms, he led her to the master  bedroom. A bed dominated the space, and it had a slatted headboard. That  sent chills of possibility racing through her system.

David placed her bag in an empty closet.

"This is yours to use. Feel free to leave anything you'd like. Not that  I've forgotten that I want to go through your toy box and all your  lingerie as well."

His words hinted at something more serious than she'd been anticipating.  Since she didn't know how to respond, she remained silent.

She peeked inside the bathroom and didn't see a bathtub, not that he  needed one. The massive shower unit had no door. Outside of designer  magazines, she'd never seen anything like it.                       
       
           



       

"I want you to feel comfortable here, Maggie."

"In that case, I may take several showers a day."

"I understand the temptation." He grinned. "I'll be downstairs. Feel  free to clean up, if you wish. Towels are in the drawers beneath the  vanity. I'll see you in the living room when you're ready." At the door,  he paused and looked back at her. "Be naked."

He left, and she heard his footfall on the open, wooden stairs.

She collapsed against the wall. So much for all the time and care she had taken with her clothes.

Mindful he was waiting, she channelled her concentration into getting  ready for him. She took a sip of the dry white wine. She was sure the  vintage was excellent, but she put it down after one sip, too nervous to  drink much of it. After pulling off her shoes, she entered the  closet-her closet-to remove everything else. Not only had he provided an  assortment of hangers, but there was a built-in chest of drawers.

Now that she was naked, she couldn't resist showering. She grabbed an  oversized towel from one of the drawers. With the way they were so  precisely folded and stacked, she wondered if he had a housekeeper. If  not, he was more fastidious than she'd believed.

The waterfall shower invigorated her. Since she'd drained the hot water  tank, she hoped he had no plans beyond a cold shower, if he needed one.

Her heart hammered as she descended the staircase, her hand curved around the chrome banister.

She heard the sounds of splashing water as she neared the living room.  Chilled air whispered across her skin, pebbling her nipples. At least  that's what she told herself-it might have been the anticipation  churning in her that caused the reaction.

He was on the couch, one arm across the back, a fresh glass of wine in the other. "Stand there," he said, pointing.

An overhead skylight lit the hardwood floor, and she welcomed the warmth.