Riley Murphy's Blog, page 26

I SO did NOT do that! *wink, wink*

Yes, this is what the caption of my scrapbook for our 2013 Christmas shall read. Why you may ask? Well, I’ll tell you. For whatever reason, probably because I didn’t drink enough alcohol so I was paying attention this year, my family decided to do an impromptu roast of me. Now given the subjects that came up one would think I’d be shocked, mortified and embarrassed, but meh, that’s just not me. I was laughing my butt off as I secretly patted myself on the back for giving them such enjoyment over the years.

Now, I’m only going to share a few of my favorites as I’ll probably blog about the rest of the massive list they’ve compiled on my uniqueness in 2014. Here are some highlights.

Honey’s pick? I thought it was going to be the tomato/tamale caper. This was when Honey first started to grow his tomatoes in the garden and it wasn’t going so well. After I made several valid suggestions that were all shot down – quit vehemently I might add — the bet was on. Did I mention that I’m not the most patient person in the world? No? We’ll I’m not. Hence the buying of the tamale (which looks more like an unripe green tomato than an actual unripe tomato btw) and I twisted tied it to his plant. No one was more surprised than me, when he marched me out to the garden and pointed at the darn thing. Telling me that he really didn’t believe they’d grow in this section of the garden either. In fact he was fearful that I was right about not enough light, but look, there was a tomato so I was wrong. *gasp* That’s when I patted his hand and asked him to untwist the vegetable as I was making Mexican for dinner. LOL! The look on his face? *insert long dreamy sigh here* Ah, good times.

After that you can imagine me wondering what I could have done to top that one? Well, I’ll tell you.  We had a neighbor once who was very nice. Too nice when it came to Honey. She was older than we were and she made no bones about her feelings for him. She continuously called Honey, John Travolta (as the actor looked in Saturday Night Fever which was her favorite movie) Honey was pretty good about it and I was a saint, now that I think about it because she’d get her digs in. When I was pregnant with my first child she’d say stuff like, “You’re getting chubby.” And I’d reply, “Yeah, that’s what being five months pregnant does to you.” Anyway, I’m not going to get into that. This isn’t about me and we don’t have the time for that discussion this is about Honey and what I did to him. Heheheh.

One night after a neighborhood get together Honey was teasing me because I was probably bugged by Cougarlishish’s comments, when he said the wrong thing. I can’t remember exactly, but it was something like, “I know she stands out on her back deck when I’m showering. If I didn’t lock the sliders I bet she’d sneak in.”

Now, bear in mind that we lived in a two story at the time and our master bath was on the upper corner closest to her house and Honey was trying to yank my jealous chain as the woman was an instigator, to be sure, but totally harmless and positively not into B&E. The most important thing I realized that night? Honey was enjoying this. Not good. If you’d been there after he said it you would have smelled the wood, oil, paper – heck anything that would take a flame – burning as I stewed. How dare Honey make a highly emotional woman, given my pregnant state, more emotional! Was he crazy? As we all know this is very dangerous. Toxic. Let’s face it, in Japan we’d called this Hari-kari, here it’s just plain old suicide.

So what did I do?

I took a shower and went to bed. *looks away and then looks back at you* Only before I went to bed and after the bathroom mirror was steamed up, I wrote a little note on it. I still remember that like it was yesterday.

I know this isn’t right, but I’ve been dying to see if you’re everything I’d dreamed you’d be in the buff. Wowzer! Mr. Travolta, you’re welcome to come to my house and watch me shower any day of the week.

Wowzer was her favorite word and I put a big kissy lips that looked like two inverted hearts at the end of the mirror note. The next day arrived and I waited, but you see, the weather had warmed up and I hadn’t counted on the windows being opened so no steamy mirror. In fact, for several days in a row a warm-front came through and by the time it had left I’d forgotten all about the note. Until Honey came home from work one day and showered with windows closed. And wouldn’t you know it? I was over at my mom and dad’s at the time so Honey was all alone. LMAO! There I was helping dad make dinner when I got the call. Honey was a mess thinking that he’d been spied on. That was a good one! Needless to say, he hardly ever ribbed me about Cougarlishish after that. *brushes hands off* so my work there was done.

I do have to say at this point, I was a little – I mean a teensy-tiny bit ashamed of myself – when our children participated in the roasting of me. Hearing one’s antics through the eyes of your offspring is kind of jarring. But then they included Honey (who was probably dragged into doing the bad stuff by me – but it still counts) and I felt a whole lot better. Their top pick?

Don’t judge me. Seriously. I mean it. This just kind of happened. It started out one place and ended in another. That’s all I’m going to say. I will not get into all the hilarious details – I cried laughing as I recalled what happened, but I will share with you their favorite “mommy humble” moment.

*Please note that names have been redacted to protect the innocent*

It was on a Sunday morning after Honey and I went out to dinner with our neighbors the night before that I had to confess. I sat my son and daughter down and proceeded to tell them the truth. Here’s the conversation:

“Listen guys, if Ms. X mentions that she saw me at a singles mixer don’t be alarmed.”

My daughter, “But you’re not single so why would you be there?”

Imagine me pulling on my shirt collar. “I, um, was there with your dad.”

My son, God love him. “Cool.”

My daughter, a chip off the old block. “He’s not single either so why were you both there?”

Me thinking, no one would have been the wiser if the sharp-eyed Ms. X hadn’t spotted me. “We crashed it by mistake and by the time we realized what we’d done it was too late.” Not the complete truth, but close enough.

My son, “Cool.” I love that kid.

My daughter, “Why was it too late?” Dammit. Sometimes looking at carbon copy of oneself is a real bummer.

Me nearly tearing my shirt collar off. “Things snowballed and it was hard not to pretend that daddy and I weren’t one of the single couples that had made a connection.”

My daughter. “All right.”

My son, “My new teacher thinks you’re dating dad?”

Yup, going to be awkward come parent night. “Sort of.”

Both kids groan in unison, “Mom.”

It’s at this point that Honey walked in. Without stopping to find out where I was in the confession he grinned. “So I guess you told them we’re the couple of the month, eh? Pretty awesome, right? Our picture posted front and center on their website for a whole thirty days? We still got it.”

And there I was stuck staring into two pairs of owl eyes. Now we can laugh about it, but back then? It made for a few awkward moments.

Let’s see…there was the cellphone kiosk debacle, the afternoon at the top of Chimney Rock Mountain and the evening we all went to a YES concert. One of these days I shall share these special moments with you. I never laughed so hard in my life. Aside from me being roasted on Christmas Eve, we made our own pizzas and then played a table-top soccer tournament for lottery tickets.

Here’s what the game looked like:

 

Here’s what the tree looked like:

 

Here’s what our street look like:

 

Here’s what my new dining room light looked like. I just thought I’d throw that in there as I lurvvve my light.

 

Here’s what I looked like getting presents:

 

Here’s what I looked like after I bought them all:

 

And this is what Honey is going to look like when he takes our tree down:

 

Hope everyone had a wonderful holiday! I’m getting ready for a phenomenal New Year’s, you?

 

Riley

 

 

A hero defends his heroine after a reviewer suggests she needs therapy

Today Chris and I are over at Snarkology talking about our holiday book White Lie Christmas. To read the review click here. After you read the review, read the comments and you’ll see the one I posted with a response. Once you do you’ll be directed back here to read the last of Mick’s response. If you’ve already been over there and are looking for Mick’s response? Scroll down.

This is Mick.

and

This is Mick’s response

 

“Leah’s a curvy one hundred and fifteen pound firecracker. With dark hair and equally dark eyes. She’s stubborn, opinionated and strong. That’s why I chose her to be my business partner. Intelligent? Don’t ask. Gorgeous? Absolutely, and if those phenomenal things were the only draw for me I’d be good. But you see? Our situation wasn’t perfect. Actually the situation was so far from being perfect with her it was laughable. The problem?  She’s a sympathetic woman who has a big heart. She’s into sacrificing her todays for her loved one’s tomorrows and for whatever reason— because I can’t put my finger on it— this does it for me.

“Seriously, even though – with her biggest lie-fueled sacrifice – she had to occasionally drink too much to get to the sainthood part of that compassion, I’m good with it. But then, what guy wouldn’t be on board with a woman like her? Smart, sassy, caring, adorable and unique with just the right amount of getting under one’s skin to have any red-blooded male with a pulse jonsing for her touch. So, yeah, she’s one of a kind all right. My kind. She has great legs too, but truthfully, it’s the way she hugs my son, Luke, that really twists my guts. The kid lights up probably more than I do when she walks into a room.

“So my description of Leah? Leah’s an angel with an edge. She’d give you the shirt off her back, but if you mess with her or those she loves, you’ll know it. If that’s crazy sign me up.”

“That was a pretty big lie she told her folks.”

“Have you ever told a lie?”

“Yes, but—”

“No buts, Doc. A lie is a lie no matter how big or small it is.” Mick turned to leave and then turned back. “Hey, have you ever stopped to think that you’re attacking your patient’s problems from the wrong end. I mean, you start with what’s wrong with them and you never touch on what’s right. It’s the latter of the two that make the difference, in my opinion. Think about it.”

“But-”

Mick didn’t wait to hear what the guy had to say because in the end? It didn’t matter. Everything he’d been told that was wrong with his woman, was all the shit he thought was right about her and that’s all that mattered.

LOL! Big thanks to Melissa for playing along with us. We absolutely loved her review! She’s got a pretty awesome website too. It was a pleasure to hang around there today and we’re hoping you took a moment to check it out.

As always, thanks for stopping by!

Riley and Chris

The First Package

Lacy bent and put a hand on the sizable box in her front hall, tapping her index finger against the sky-blue ribbon. “What could it be?”

It wasn’t big enough to be a Sybian and it was too big to be a vibrator. Wait, why did she automatically assume it was something sexual? Maybe it wasn’t. Yeah right. There was about as much chance of that happening as there was her dying in an asteroid apocalypse set off by a rogue pack of earth hating zombies.

She pressed the side of her foot to the box and pushed it toward her living room. She fully expected it to slide over the tile and was completely caught off guard when it tumbled instead.

“Hey, sorry about that. I meant to tell you it’s feather-light.”

Lacy nodded at her contractor, trying not to get aggravated. She’d given him a key to her place so he could come by and take some measurements not answer the door.

“Did you say you wanted this tile replaced?”

“Yes. I want the larger ones. I think they’re twenty inches.”

“Eighteen probably.”

Lacy gritted her teeth as she picked up the box. Ever since Joe had agreed to do her home remodel he’d been getting on her nerves. Correcting her over silly things and making suggestions about products she didn’t want. Deep down she knew that the shine she’d initially taken to him when he was doing her clinic build-out had dulled completely the moment she met David, so it really wasn’t Joe’s fault that he was aggravating her.

She picked up the box and gently shook it.

“You break anything?”

“I don’t think so.” She headed to her bedroom and stopped when she got to the door. “Oh, Joe, before you go I have paint and flooring samples in the garage.”

He smiled and popped his brows at her. “You sure you don’t want to fool around a little? You used to like—”

“No,” she cut him off before he reminded her. They’d had one night together, months ago when they’d almost hooked-up. She never should have let him persuade her into getting in the hot tub that night following a butt-load of tequila shots. After that there were a couple of times he’d talked her into messing around, but not once after she’d met David. This was the problem. Previously she’d gotten around Joe and his cheap-cutting-the-corners way by giving into him. Now she’d couldn’t do that, and being that he had one third of his construction fee upfront she couldn’t afford to fire him. “Please bring the samples with you and see how close of a match you can get.”

“Is that them?”

He pointed to the corner of the living room where she’d painted a swatch of the color she wanted on the walls and had left the extra twenty inch tile sample she’d bought, below it. “Yes.”

“I think you need to go darker on the paint, and the flooring is too light.”

Lacy swallowed her irritation and opened her bedroom door. Over her shoulder she said, “I have an important call to make. Will you be able to see your way out when you’re done?” He dragged his hand through his hair and she knew what that meant. He was nervous. “What’s the matter?”

“I’m not sure my suppliers will have that floor sample.”

She adjusted the box under her arm and waved him off. “Oh, for Pete’s sake. It doesn’t have to be exact, but please, please, get it as close as possible. Deal?”

“Deal.”

She didn’t wait for him to flash his I-won-again grins— even that handsome gesture was wearing thin on her, and went into her bedroom. Closing the door with a sigh of relief, she kicked off her shoes and put the box down on the dresser. One tug and the ribbon wilted right off the cardboard. She lifted the lid and looked down. Frowning when she spied the yellow Post-It Note on the top of another blue ribbon tied box. On the scrap of paper there was one handwritten line:

Did you forget to call me first?

She recalled David’s previous request and blushed. Although why she got flustered was a mystery as David would never know about the slip-up. He certainly seemed to know everything else though. She eyed the pool of ribbon and shook her head. Taking the half opened box to the bed, she took her phone out of her pocket and sat down.

Hi, it’s me. I have the box.

Did you open it?

No. You told me to call you first, so I am.

Very good. Untie the ribbon.

Done.

Open the lid and look inside.

Lacy did and then scowled as she typed.

There’s another box inside.

Open it.

Spying another smaller box she wanted to scream while she punched out.

David!

You have to be patient.

Easy for him to say. By now her heart was pounding. Size wise they were getting into small sexual devise territory here. Would he want her to use it on herself right now? Or would he ask her to meet him somewhere so he could watch her use it? Maybe he’d want to use it on her himself?

K.

Her hands shook as she was sure this was the last one. It had to be, but then it wasn’t.

This isn’t funny David.

It’s not supposed to be. Open the next one.

She didn’t bother replying as she set about undoing the ribbon. “Finally,” she breathed as she spied silver tissue paper. Before she parted it she typed:

I see tissue paper. Can I look?

No.

She blinked at that reply and then sent her own.

Why?

You didn’t tell me the truth.

I didn’t?

You opened the box. You should have one box left and you don’t. I knew immediately when you didn’t mention my note.

“Fuck.” She chewed on her lower lip trying to figure out how she was going get out of this one. There was only one way.

Sorry, I forgot.

To call me or to tell me the truth?

Both?

She added a winking smiley face after that.

Cute, but still disappointing. Next time please follow my instructions.

She saluted the text even though he couldn’t see it, and then typed:

Yes sir.

Okay, have a look at what I sent.

Lacy was a little disappointed that he didn’t have a better response, but then she was dying to see what was in the box. Parting the paper, she peered inside.

A leather necklace?

It was black and smooth. Plain, she was thinking, and so not her style that her shoulders slumped. He probably wanted her to wear this on their next dinner date.

It’s not a necklace. It’s a collar.

She plucked it out of the box and held it up. Deciding it looked like one of the chokers she used to wear in high school.

Are you sure? It doesn’t look like one.

You’ve seen a lot of those, have you?

Not a lot. Shouldn’t it have an O-ring or something? A lock?

Would you like that?

She blew out a breath and wondered how she should answer that.

It looks like a choker to me.

It’s made out of black licorice leather.

It was. All black except for the clasp which was silver.

I probably should have told you I like shiny.

You’re not ready for shiny yet. Just think of this as a beginner’s version.

But it won’t go with my dresses.

It’s supposed to go with your undresses.

She read that sentence twice and then typed:

Oh.

Then she thought about his comment about shiny and beginner and keyed in:

Oh!

No need to panic.

I’m not panicking.

But she totally was.

You are.

I am not.

Just breathe.

I’m breathing. I’m a little surprised is all. Isn’t a collar a big step for a couple who’ve only been on one date?

This is not the collar you’d wear for me. This is a collar you’re going to wear for you.

She scratched her head.

You want me to collar myself? That’s absurd.

What I want is for you to pay attention.

She flopped back against the mattress and held her phone up as she texted.

ALL RIGHT.

Stop yelling.

She took a deep and calming breath.

I wasn’t. I hit the cap key by accident.

Is that the truth?

NO.

You’ve got guts. I’ll give you that.

She smiled. She couldn’t help it. She liked that he thought she had guts, even though she knew she didn’t.

Okay, David, I’m paying attention.

Good.

Well?

I want you to take off all your clothes and put on the collar.

She sat up, looked at her closed bedroom door and then down at her phone.

I can’t do that Jo’s here.

You can do this when she leaves.

She? She was going to correct him when she realized her mistake, but her phone vibrated again.

When you’re naked, except for the collar, I want you to lie on your bed for five minutes and think about me.

That’s it?

That’s all.

Kind of lame.

Kind of bratty.

That made her laugh. Then she typed:

What are you going to do while I’m doing that?

I’ll be getting hard thinking about you getting soft on me.

She could almost imagine his voice deepening as he spoke those words aloud. Her mouth went dry and her pulse ticked up a beat. With shaking fingers she replied:

How do you know I’m going to get soft on you?

Did I say soft? I meant wet.

Reading those words acted like a sure and sultry stroke between her legs. Damn him. She was already wet.

I think I am already.

Soft…?

Wet.

Ask Jo to leave and do as I’ve asked you to do.

K.

Lacy?

Yes.

No getting yourself off. No matter how much you may want to. Understand?

She did and the knowledge made her wetter.

Yes. You don’t want me to touch myself until you give me permission.

No. I don’t want you to touch yourself again until after I’ve had the privilege. The next fingers to sink into that wet flesh will be mine. Understand?

Thank God she didn’t have to speak. She was sure the words would have gotten caught in her throat. She shivered.

Yes.

She was just about to put her phone down and go make sure that Joe had left when her cell vibrated again.

Lacy?

Yeah?

I’ll be by tomorrow at six to pick you up for dinner. I’ll be bringing another package with me. We’ll discuss what’s inside over dinner.

She gulped.

K.

No yelling though.

She sent a smiley face even though she wasn’t feeling it. Dealing with the collar and him via texting was one thing. Having to talk about whatever he had in the package he’d brought with him tomorrow over dinner was quite another. Wasn’t he supposed to be The Quiet One?

She was still thinking about having to talk to him about this a half hour later as she stripped off her clothes and put on the collar. The leather was weighty and cool against her skin. The feel and texture of it commandeered her attention. Making her focus in on the moment instead of their upcoming tete-a-tete.

Two minutes into her five minute deadline she knew she was in trouble. She couldn’t think of anything, but David. The heat of his eyes. The steel of his voice. The power in his hand. His strong fingers…she groaned.

I don’t want you to touch yourself again until after I’ve had the privilege.

She snapped open her eyes and stared at the ceiling. “Unbelievable.”

Suddenly “the tomorrow night” she’d gone into this dreading, couldn’t come fast enough for her.

Something I never do…

This is something I never do. I never blog about my son, but today I have to as I’m not sure whether I should be proud or distraught over his comment about me when he called yesterday. You guys judge.

*Thinks about where to start* and then *sighs* because the beginning is so far from the end it’s depressing. Oh well here goes.

I have a haunted oven. It’s true. It works for a time and then it does crazy ass shite like broils when I want to bake or it gives me an F-10 error message. If you guys knew how many F bomberinoes I’ve dropped over this you’d—let’s just say it’s more than 10, k? Anyway, due to a number of extenuating circumstances (let’s call them company staying with us) I wound up having to put the whole chicken Honey was going to do on the BBQ rotisserie into the haunted fire-pit of hell. Otherwise known as my crappy stove. Now, I’m not holding anything back here when I tell you that I LOVE when Honey BBQs because it’s way less work for me and when I have visitors? Even better. So when I got the call that he wouldn’t be able to make it home in time to put the bird on the grill I was hm… how should I put this? Devastated. And when I get devastated by terrible news I have a tendency to want to turn my frown upside down. Do you know what I’m saying?

What do you mean you don’t? It’s really simple. I have to make me happy and there’s only one way to do that. I must make Honey miserable. Actually not so much miserable, but I have to do something. I just can’t let him off the hook when one moment he’s filled my heart with glee that I don’t have to cook – again — and the next he’s ripped yonder mirth out of my chest going a step further by stomping and trashing it to smithereens when I realize I have to go all Betty Crocker on the stupid bird. But then, anyone who knows me knows when I do something under duress there could be consequences. Which brings me to the poultry in question. It was while I was preparing the plucky little guy that my son called. Here’s the conversation.

“Hi mom. Do you have a minute?”

“Sure, what’s up?”

He proceeds to ask me about a gift idea for Honey. Once I steer the uninspired gift-giving procrastinator in the right direction I ask, “Anything else?”

“Nope, that was it. What are you doing?”

“I’m sculpting a chicken head out of tinfoil.”

“Oh. What time’s Dad going to be home? I’ll call back then.”

Me *crickets* I mean the kid didn’t even miss a beat. Maybe he hadn’t heard what I said, or maybe he did. So I asked him, “Aren’t you curious to know why I’m making a fowl face?”

“Not particularly. I’d be more curious if you told me you weren’t doing anything because let’s face it Mom, you’re always doing something.”

Eek, that smelled of predictable when that’s the last thing in the world I want to be. So I chose to ignore his comment and told him anyway.

“I’m sticking a lemonade can up the bird’s butt so he’s standing straight with wings flapping out at his sides. Then I’m going to shove the fowl face in the neck hole and when your dad gets home from work I’m going to have him open the oven door and check the chicken. Won’t he be surprised? I might even throw out a bawk, bawk.”

My son cracked up so I knew it was going to be a good one only????

The haunted oven struck again and there I was with my perpendicular bird and his finely fashioned fowl face and no Honey to see it. I wound up having to do a French country stew thing in a pot on the stove top. It turned out great, but you gotta know the bird wasn’t the only thing stewing when Honey came home. I hate it when my devious fun is thwarted.

Speaking of thwarting. Anyone out there know if they do exorcisms on kitchen appliances. Now I know what most of you are thinking. I’m nuts and yeah, you’d be right about that, but not about this. I swear. Here’s a picture of the demi-God that appeared on a pan one day. He’s the guy that’s haunting my heat box.

Yep, this is the way I have it figured? There’s the face of Christ on a grill cheese sandwich that sold for 34,000 on eBay a few years back. The bowed image of the Virgin Mary on a window that thousands flock to every year to pray in front of, and then there’s my naked Doo-Doo Devil on a pan. Maybe I can auction him off on eBay to pay for the exorcism. What, it’s a plan? It is. Not a good one, but a plan none-the-less. Any takers? >;)

Riley, who is going to dig up some rosary beads before she roasts her beef tonight

Their Second Encounter

 

Their Second Encounter

1 hour and 12 minutes after David and Lacy’s first date ended.

A text session.

Buzz

Lacy’s eyes snapped opened and she frowned. It had to be midnight. Who’d be sending her a text at this hour?

David.

“Oh brother.” Suddenly visions of him texting her morning, noon and night telling her to do all kinds of nasty things came to mind. She never should have agreed to this, but then, had she really agreed or had he backed her into a corner with no way out?

Snatching up her phone she took a deep breath and read.

Hi.

Hm, not what she’d been expecting.

Hello.

Are you in bed?

She rolled her eyes. Here came the sexy.

Yes.

Do you like football?

She frowned and thought for a millisecond before she replied.

No. Well, sort of, but only if the game is close and there’s less than 4 minutes on the clock.

She sent that and expected him to vehemently defend that All-American pastime but was surprised again when she got back.

Baseball?

Okay, was he planning on taking her to game or something?

Sort of. Providing it’s the last inning and the teams are tied.

What about golf?

She shook her head and felt like texting, “what about you telling me what this is all about?” instead she answered.

No.

What about pudding? Do you like pudding?

She laughed. She couldn’t help it. This conversation was so bizarre — actually intriguing— that she sat up and scooted back against the headboard, dragging the warm duvet cover with her.

Yes. Love it.

Cheesecake?

Not especially.

What about leather? Do you like the feel of leather?

A hot sizzle went through her. Landing between her legs with a heady zap. She pushed aside the duvet and blew out a breath. When that didn’t work to cool her off she fanned herself while she thought about a reply. Grinning ear-to-ear the moment the perfect one came to her.

Better than cheesecake.

That should make him have to think.

As much a pudding?

Dammit. Before she could formulate an answer her phone buzzed again.

What about flowers? Do you favor roses?

With relief she quickly typed.

No.

Lillies?

Nope.

Violets?

Not my fav.

What about silk? Do you like the feel of silk pressed against your eyes?

Her heart skipped a beat. Was this a sneaky way of saying blindfold?

Silk is nice, but I prefer to feel it—

She squeezed her eyes shut and worked up the courage to type the rest. David was playing with her here and she needed to get into the game. Admittedly, he was far better at this than she was, but maybe her inexperience would ruffle his calm-Dom-feathers some.

“Fuck it.” She opened her eyes and punched out the last of her reply.

—between my legs.

Her heart pounded as she stared down at the small screen. Seconds ticked by. Silence. Nothing. A full minute had passed. She knew because she was watching the clock on her phone. Should she send something else?

Lilacs?

She blinked and then realized he was picking up where they left off on the flower topic. Clearly he had no feathers to ruffle. If that’s the way he wanted to play it.

No, and you’ll like never guess.

Want me to try?

She pulled the duvet up and snuggled into it.

Sure.

Daisies.

Her mouth dropped open before she pressed her lips together. How had he…?

How did you know that?

Secret. Do you know what daisies represent?

She stuffed her hair behind her ears and quickly returned.

No and tell me the secret.

Would it make you happy if I told you the secret?

Yes.

She expected him to say that Colin or Jo had told him. Or that he scoured the internet doing research on her. Although she wasn’t sure if she’d ever mentioned that fact about herself. She could have though. Maybe on twitter? He had no right to spy on her.

Your earrings.

It took her a moment but then she remembered. She’d worn her silver daisy earrings to dinner.

Oh.

Innocence.

What about it?

That’s what a daisy represents.

Wow, that was so not her. She was just about to type that and then thought better of it and adjusted.

I like that. What kind of flowers do you like?

 

 

David sank back in his leather chair and grinned. Finally she was engaged in the conversation.

Gladiolas.

Nice. What do they represent?

Strength of character.

Right on the money there.

He shook his head when he saw she’d punctuated that sentence with a silly winking smiley face. He sat forward. Time to shake things up a little.

What about steel. Do you like the cold, hard bite of it against your skin?

An image of her stretched out naked on his bed with her arms up over her head and her wrists firmly locked to his headboard in a pair of shiny manacles, stroked him. He was just envisioning how he’d position her legs when his phone vibrated.

I’m not sure I should answer that.

So not an option.

You have to.

Is that a rule?

Yes.

Yes.

Yes? Man she had guts. He readjusted in his seat. He’d been semi-hard imagining her cuffed to his bed but now that he knew she’d like it, his cock turned to stone. Digging into his thigh. Straining against the zipper of his pants. He ignored the discomfort and typed.

Do you like charades?

Not especially.

He nodded.

What about solitaire?

Love it.

What are you wearing?

A black-lace teddy with matching thong.

He laughed. She was a deceitful little brat when she wanted to be. There was no way in hell she slept in sexy lingerie every night of the week, if at all.

Are you sure?

Of course. *gasp* What kind of question is that?

He sighed because once again she’d included a silly face. Only this one had crossed eyes and its tongue hanging out of its mouth. He thought about calling her on it but then decided not to press her as he knew the motivating factor behind her fib. Him. Or rather her trying to impress him.

Tomorrow I want you to wear something I send you. Will you?

What is it?

It’s black.

I’m waiting…

He narrowed his eyes and replied.

So am I.

Yes.

He smiled at that then sent.

You’ll see.

Not fair.

I know.

He was just about to type good night when his phone shook in his palm.

David?

He didn’t know why he was holding his breath.

Yes?

I’m not sure we should be doing this. I’m worried.

He sighed and released the pent up air in his lungs in a rush. Now was not the time to ask her what she was worried about. If he did, he was sure she’d feed him the same bullshit excuse she’d given him at dinner. About how they might screw up being friends when they’d be expected to frequently get together with “the gang”. That’s not what she was worried about. Deep down he knew it, but question was, did she?

I’m sure and don’t worry. It’s going to be fun, remember?

That’s what I’m afraid of…

This time the silly face she included with those words was sideways and sported an inverted “V” bracket over the eyes. He shook his head and typed.

You’ve agreed to wear what I send you tomorrow and us ‘having fun’ is all you’re afraid of?

Crazy, huh?

He rubbed his thumb over those words as he thought about them and her. He’d been right. There was something special about her. Too bad she didn’t know it.

Crazy? No, smart. Now get some sleep.

K.

No sooner had he put his phone down then it vibrated again and he picked it back up.

David?

Yes?

I’m really wearing my oversized whiskers and paws t-shirt from the last fundraiser I attended.

With her admitting that truth an unaccountable pleasure stole through him, but so did something else.

That’s all you’re wearing?

I swear. That’s it.

An image of her in just a shirt. Nothing else under it but skin. All naked and warm. Silky and—

Oh, my bad. I do have a thong on too.

When he saw the brightly smiling face that accompanied those words his eyes narrowed and he altered his earlier assessment of her. She was special all right. A special brat. No wonder he wanted her with a passion that kept him up at nights.

Tomorrow when my package arrives call me before you open it.

Why?

You’ll see. Go to sleep now. Good night.

He stood and stuffed his phone in his pocket as he thought about how she’d react to his gift. He wasn’t usually heavy handed when it came to relationships. Not his kind of relationships at any rate. Normally he took his time and savored the getting to know one another part of a courtship to deepen trust, but with her he’d have to be different. He’d have to make concessions and so would she. At least until he had a better handle on her. She needed someone to unlock her and he had every intention on being that magic key.

His phone rocked on the desk and he stared down at it, noticing that the lit screen highlighted a sad face. Reaching out, he traced an index finger over the image. Wondering, and not for the first time, why she was freely expressive when there were phones and distance between them and yet, face to face, she was as sober as a little judge.

He ran a hand through his hair and decided one thing. Lacy Pembrook had a story and if he got his way, he was going to make sure it became an epic.

 

 

 

David and Lacy

Their Second Encounter

1 hour and 12 minutes after David and Lacy’s first date ended.

A text session.

Click on the photo below to read the next installment of David and Lacy’s pre-story Note: You’ll have to scroll to get to the 2nd installment.

David and Lacy’s text session

Their Second Encounter

1 hour and 12 minutes after David and Lacy’s first date ended.

A text session.

Click on the photo below to read the next installment of David and Lacy’s pre-story Note: You’ll have to scroll to get to the 2nd installment.

Stare Me Down Giveaway

 THIS IS A CHANCE TO WIN ONE "AUTOGRAPHED" HARD COPY OF STARE ME DOWN

Goodreads Book Giveaway


Stare Me Down
by Riley Murphy

Giveaway ends December 11, 2013.

See the giveaway details

at Goodreads.

Enter to win

If you don’t have a Goodreads account just leave me a comment or email me through contacts where I already have a separate list going.

I love Aries…

This is one of my favorite quotes of his: “This will be for you and me. No one else. The rest of the world goes on as they do, but you and I will have this secret between us. A commitment that’s deeper and more meaningful than most couples ever share in a lifetime.”

 

Good Luck!

Riley

Would you like to win?

Hi guys!

Today over at Guilty Pleasures you can sign up to win one of the following: A hard “autographed” copy of A Perfect Holiday, an eBook copy or a handmade angel ornament. Here’s what the angel looks like,

It comes in this pretty little box with some sweets too. In A Perfect Holiday this is what the hero thinks about the heroine’s collection of “quirky” angels:

He took another deep breath, hoping to recapture that little bit of nostalgia when he spotted her dining room chandelier. It wasn’t so much the hanging light itself, but the things dangling off it. Angels. And not the ethereal kind either. There was a fat one holding a harp, a skinny one wearing glasses and when he saw the mop-headed blonde one in the red and yellow poke-a-dot bikini he found himself smiling. He liked the winged chicks. Shifting, he tilted his head to get a better look at Sidney Capp. The few tenants he’d spoken to around here always referred to her as a “sweetheart”. He thought it was because she taught kindergarten, but maybe not. There was something about her.   He recalled how squirrely she’d been at the door and now watching as she fought with the keys, he decided maybe she was much the same as those ornaments. Quirky. Yeah, and probably an angel too. That sobered him right up.

Just click on the cover below and you’ll be taken to the contest.


Good luck!

Riley

David and Lacy’s Story

I’m so excited to have my new website! I love it! So what I decided to do was celebrate the occasion by giving away a free serial read. The way this is going to work is simple. I’m going to publish David and Lacy’s first half dozen or so dates, one a week until release day! For those of you who are familiar with this couple they were left in the middle of a very heated – and by that I mean – a saw, a broken down door and a chastity belt – situation. 0_o It’s right at this point that the first chapter of Requested opens. *leans in to whisper* It was one of the hardest scenes I had to write, but I think it was my best ever…but um, you guys can decide that for yourselves if you pick this one up to read. So *looks around* where was I? Oh, right, David and Lacy’s dates. Here’s the deal. A lot happened between them prior to the chastity belt/saw debacle so I thought while I’m making this one all clean and shiny and attempting to nail another deadline, I’d write the ‘dates’ that David ‘ropes’ Lacy into going on with him. As Lacy laments at one point, “He’s smart and sex.” Not a good combination when you’re looking for an out. Did I mention that David is the Dom that has trained other Doms? No? Well he is so he knows every…well, I don’t want to spoil anything, so let’s just say, he knows a lot of stuff and he knows how to use all of it. Poor Lacy.

 

Story One prior to Requested Surrender

The First Date

Lacy Pembrook stared across the candlelit table, into the nicest hazel eyes she’d happily drown in, and lied. “I’m worried that if we give this a try, as you’ve suggested, we’ll blow our chances at a friendship and then where would we be when the gang wants to get together?”

David Hollan inclined his head even as his gaze pinned her. “Is that what you’re worried about?”

Hm. Even though those words were more a statement than a question she chose to answer it by continuing to fib. “Absolutely. You seem like a really nice guy,” nice was understating what he seemed to be. Interesting, deep, mysterious and fuckalishous were all descriptions that came to mind, but she kept those to herself, “I just think this is a case of better safe than sorry.”

“And I think,” Uh oh, he was leaning forward and bracing his arms on the table, turning that piece of furniture that had acted as the perfect buffer between them into an open-air stage. At least that’s what it felt like, “sometimes when you’re sorry, it’s better than being safe.”

Okay, screw the fact that he was currently crowding her and making her nervous. She ignored the sensation. “How is that even possible?  Ask anyone and they’d agree that being safe beats being sorry every time.”

“Not everyone.”

She tilted her head and hiked a brow at him. She was sure any second he’d say he was only kidding, but he didn’t.

“Not even you, providing that you were with me.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

That word skated over her causing tiny tingles to fall like a line of dominoes tumbling down her spine as another pat phrase came to her. Curiosity killed the cat. It killed. The cat. Don’t ask. Don’t…ugh. “I think I’ll need you to explain that one to me.”

“All right.” He took his time pushing his plate aside, moving the flickering candles to the left and folding his napkin neatly before he tucked it under the edge of his dish. “Tell me. What would you have to have done in order to be sorry?”

She shrugged. Unless this was a trick question, it was a no brainer. “Something wrong.”

“Exactly.” He stared at her.

She stared back. “And?”

“How can you learn and grow without making mistakes? In fact,” he put his large, warm hand over hers and squeezed, “if you played it safe all the time wouldn’t you get to the end of your life and be sorry looking back?”

And there it was. The very reason she didn’t—no, scratch that— she wouldn’t get involved with a man like him. He was dangerous on every level. “I feel like you’re overthinking the phrase.”

His hand tightened. Not too much, but enough for her to notice. “And I feel like you’re under-thinking it.”

She gently pulled away from his grasp and picked up her wine glass. What did she have to worry about? This was a harmless dinner. No more than that. She needed to relax. She was free to enjoy herself. Yeah, she needed to lighten up. “I thought a Dom like you would want his submissive to be good and obedient all the time.”

“I do.” He leaned back and splayed his hands on the table. The action made him appear bigger and more in control than before. Although how such a thing was possible, she had no idea.

“See, safe is good and good is what you’re after.” She waved her glass, dismissing him, before she took a sip of her delicious pinot noire.

“I see,” he slapped the table in a catchy ratta-ta-tat beat and then abruptly stopped, “but the question is, do you?”

His eyes drilled into her. Their probing heat almost caused her to choke on the wine that slid down her throat like a wave of sand. Carefully, she put her glass down and wished with all her might she hadn’t ordered the bouillabaisse. She knew from experience that dish would take a good twenty more minutes to arrive. Relax. There’s nothing between you, remember?

“Look, David, I’m not Colin and I’m certainly not Jo. In fact, not that I like to share this tidbit about myself a lot,” she bent forward and whispered, “but I was slave once and it didn’t work out well for anyone but the guy who collared me.”

He laughed. The fucking guy laughed and, when he did, she wanted to laugh too. She didn’t know why. Here she was sharing an intimate detail about herself and he thought it was funny? “Why are you laughing?”

“You’re funny.”

“I wasn’t trying to be.”

He did a double-take which was worse than if he’d laughed again. “I’m sorry it’s just if you truly understood the concept, I highly doubt you’d call your former Master ‘that guy’.”

“You’re right,” she sniffed. “I was being nice. I usually call him Fuckwad.”

Silence. Not the good kind either. This was the kind that landed around you with foreboding. If you’d written this in a book it would be called foreshadowing. And the way he looked at her? Lethal. Brutal. “I was kidding that time.” Not really, but his silent censure was freaking her out.

“I’m glad.”

There was too much thinking involved when she spent time with him. That was the problem. Picking up her wine she took a big gulp, looked away and then looked back. The guy hadn’t moved a muscle.  Not one. He just remained invested, interested and watchful. Damn. “I suppose if we were to have a trial run and see where something like this goes, you’d have a whole pile of rules.”

 

David leaned back and relaxed. She was finally coming around to his way of thinking. “Not especially.”

“Really? But I thought…I…”

“Let me guess. You thought I’d be ordering you around and making you do things while you were naked.”

“No. Actually I thought I’d fall under your spell and get naked and do all kinds of things as I’d anticipate your every need.”

That sealed the deal. She would be his. “Interesting.”

“Yeah?” she plucked up her glass and licked the rim before she took a sip. The provocative action got him surprisingly juiced. “And here I was thinking that something like that would be boring to a guy like you.”

She was fishing here. He didn’t know why but he’d let her reel him in until he caught sight of the bait. “Could be. So what did you have in mind?”

The waiter brought their salads just then and David thanked him, but never took his eyes off her. “Well?” he prompted.

“One date night like this a week for eight weeks so we can get to know one another better. To see if something like this will work for us.”

He was willing to negotiate, but hardball was the only game he played. So, with that in mind he was going to tell her flat out no. He wasn’t going to wait eight weeks to get his hands on her. But then he saw the gleam of triumph in her eyes before she could mask it and he knew. She expected this to fail. She wanted him to say no.

He tamped down the rush of adrenaline surging through him with the thrill of the hunt and said, “Great idea.”

“Yeah, I know you’re probably disappointed—wait, what? You think so?”

“Sure,” he pointed to her salad and asked, “Would you like some bread with that?”

“No I—”

“There are pine nuts in there. Not sunflower.” He chewed a mouthful of greens and swallowed. “Now, I think you’re onto something here.  We need to go slow, but…”

“Yes?”

He loved how her eyes widened and her cheeks filled with color. The pinkish flush made those round eyes of hers sparkle like sapphires in the sun. “They’ll be unlimited texting in between those eight dates. There has to be, don’t you agree?”

She downed her wine. Poor thing. Clearly she didn’t have a plan for the direction this conversation had taken. “No I don’t agree. That sounds like a bad idea. Suppose I’m working or visiting with friends. Unlimited sounds kind of creepy to me.”

“Eat your salad.” He spoke softly hoping to put her at ease, “It’s not as if I’m going to stalk you or anything. I may want to send you a text to say good morning and then one the same day saying good night. What’s wrong with that? If I’m forced to limit the amount of texts I send, I might not be able to say what I want, when I want to you.”

She looked like this was killing her to admit, but he gave her credit when she grudgingly managed, “All right that doesn’t sound too unreasonable.”

“Exactly. So it’s a deal?”

The way her tongue moved around in her closed mouth as she eyed him, it was as if she were cleaning her teeth with it. Then her lips parted with a smack-like kissing sound and she nodded, “Deal.”

“Perfect.” He looked down and stacked his fork with a cherry tomato, cucumber and crouton. “Then there’s only one thing left to discuss. Exclusivity.”

“For me or for you?”

He finished chewing before he swallowed. Desperately trying not to cough. “Excuse me?”

“What?” She popped a cherry tomato into her mouth and bit down with a satisfied sigh. “It’s a legitimate question.”

“It’s not polite to talk with your mouth full.”

“O-hay.”

It was his turn to sigh, but not with delight when he’d heard her push out that “okay” response around the tomato she was eating. “And to answer your question, it applies to both of us,” he said, as he put his fork down and waited.

“All right. But when you say exclusivity, does that apply to an impromptu cybersex session? Say if I just stumble upon a random stranger in a chat room and I wanted to experience the thrill of sex with them without the danger. I mean, I could just do it and you’d never know because you’re not a computer whiz who can go forensic on a hard drive, are you? Only asking because I’d like to get the rules down so I know.”

He found himself once again mimicking one of her earlier actions when his tongue, behind closed lips, slid over each tooth while he counted to ten. It had been a long, long time since he’d had to count higher than three when he was with a woman. And here he was, not with just any woman, but a woman he was deeply attracted to. Fuck. He reminded himself that she was purposely trying to get under his skin. What was she so afraid of?

“Although it’s admirable you want to get the rules down, it’s pointless if you’re going to break them.”

“Enough said. That pretty much answered my question anyways.”

Oh yeah. She was definitely trying to rattle his chain. He grinned and shook his head, “You got guts. I’ll give you that.”

“Why?” Her eyes danced. “Because I’m not letting you intimidate me?”

“I’m not trying to intimidate you. So, no. I think you’ve got guts because you’ve taken the first big step in our ‘trial relationship’ without me having to say a word. That takes courage and I admire you for it.”

“I did? You do?” She leaned forward and frowned. “What did I say?”

“You like the thrill of sex without the danger. I’ll be your random stranger. We can have sessions via texts. We’ll be sexting.”

She snapped straight up and blinked. “No we won’t. How can you be a random stranger when I know who you are? It’s not possible besides…it’s…it’s…”

He reached across the table and patted her hand. “Exactly what you wanted and the best part? You won’t be breaking any rules.”

The waiter arrived right then with their dinner. The way that Lacy studied her food after the server put it down in front of her would make you think she’d never seen clean-the-kitchen soup before. Once they were alone David asked, “Is everything all right with the order?”

“No.” She looked up and he spied the worry in her eyes. “I don’t like it one bit.”

He knew what she was referring to but he pretended he didn’t. “Should I call the waiter back so we can change it then?”

“Change what?”

He indicated to her bowl. “Your order.”

“Oh. Oh! No I’m good with this. It smells yummy. What I’m not good with—”

“Would you like some more wine?”

She nodded and then picked up her spoon. “As I was saying, what I’m not good with is this whole sexting thing.”

He was careful to turn the bottle so the wine wouldn’t drip on the table cloth. Putting the pinot down, he sat back. “What are you good with? Having cybersex with random strangers?”

Her mouth dropped open and she looked to the right as if some other patron in the restaurant was going to come to her aide. No one did, so he waited until she snapped her mouth shut and turned back to glare at him. “I walked right into that one, didn’t I?”

He grinned. “Try marched.”

Just as he’d hoped all the tension went out of her and she shook her head. “I was only kidding about that, by the way.”

“Well, I wasn’t.” He commandeered her attention and didn’t let go. Then before she got around to denying the idea, he pushed to sell it. “Trust me, I’ll make sexting fun.”

The air was electric between them. Charged with an energy that was almost palpable as she searched his face for several moments. Then like a puff of smoke colliding with the wind, one instant the tension was swirling, and the next it was gone. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

He waited until she looked down at her dish before he whispered, “You’ve agreed to date a guy like me and that’s all you’re afraid of?”

When her head snapped up he winked and enjoyed watching her squirm. He was nowhere near to figuring her out yet, but he had learned one thing. Lacy Pembrook rarely ever squirmed. That was going to change now that he was in her future.

“Bread?”

She may have shaken her head, but she reached for a piece anyway. A second later he was positive she didn’t even know she was chewing on it as she was probably too busy chewing on what she’d inadvertently gotten herself into. Eight dates and unlimited sexting. Damn, this couldn’t have turned out better for him if he’d planned it.

 

 

Their Second Encounter

1 hour and 12 minutes after David and Lacy’s first date ended.

A text session.

Buzz

Lacy’s eyes snapped opened and she frowned. It had to be midnight. Who’d be sending her a text at this hour?

David.

“Oh brother.” Suddenly visions of him texting her morning, noon and night telling her to do all kinds of nasty things came to mind. She never should have agreed to this, but then, had she really agreed or had he backed her into a corner with no way out?

Snatching up her phone she took a deep breath and read.

Hi.

Hm, not what she’d been expecting.

Hello.

Are you in bed?

She rolled her eyes. Here came the sexy.

Yes.

Do you like football?

She frowned and thought for a millisecond before she replied.

No. Well, sort of, but only if the game is close and there’s less than 4 minutes on the clock.

She sent that and expected him to vehemently defend that All-American pastime but was surprised again when she got back.

Baseball?

Okay, was he planning on taking her to game or something?

Sort of. Providing it’s the last inning and the teams are tied.

What about golf?

She shook her head and felt like texting, “what about you telling me what this is all about?” instead she answered.

No.

What about pudding? Do you like pudding?

She laughed. She couldn’t help it. This conversation was so bizarre — actually intriguing— that she sat up and scooted back against the headboard, dragging the warm duvet cover with her.

Yes. Love it.

Cheesecake?

Not especially.

What about leather? Do you like the feel of leather?

A hot sizzle went through her. Landing between her legs with a heady zap. She pushed aside the duvet and blew out a breath. When that didn’t work to cool her off she fanned herself while she thought about a reply. Grinning ear-to-ear the moment the perfect one came to her.

Better than cheesecake.

That should make him have to think.

As much a pudding?

Dammit. Before she could formulate an answer her phone buzzed again.

What about flowers? Do you favor roses?

With relief she quickly typed.

No.

Lillies?

Nope.

Violets?

Not my fav.

What about silk? Do you like the feel of silk pressed against your eyes?

Her heart skipped a beat. Was this a sneaky way of saying blindfold?

Silk is nice, but I prefer to feel it—

She squeezed her eyes shut and worked up the courage to type the rest. David was playing with her here and she needed to get into the game. Admittedly, he was far better at this than she was, but maybe her inexperience would ruffle his calm-Dom-feathers some.

“Fuck it.” She opened her eyes and punched out the last of her reply.

—between my legs.

Her heart pounded as she stared down at the small screen. Seconds ticked by. Silence. Nothing. A full minute had passed. She knew because she was watching the clock on her phone. Should she send something else?

Lilacs?

She blinked and then realized he was picking up where they left off on the flower topic. Clearly he had no feathers to ruffle. If that’s the way he wanted to play it.

No, and you’ll like never guess.

Want me to try?

She pulled the duvet up and snuggled into it.

Sure.

Daisies.

Her mouth dropped open before she pressed her lips together. How had he…?

How did you know that?

Secret. Do you know what daisies represent?

She stuffed her hair behind her ears and quickly returned.

No and tell me the secret.

Would it make you happy if I told you the secret?

Yes.

She expected him to say that Colin or Jo had told him. Or that he scoured the internet doing research on her. Although she wasn’t sure if she’d ever mentioned that fact about herself. She could have though. Maybe on twitter? He had no right to spy on her.

Your earrings.

It took her a moment but then she remembered. She’d worn her silver daisy earrings to dinner.

Oh.

Innocence.

What about it?

That’s what a daisy represents.

Wow, that was so not her. She was just about to type that and then thought better of it and adjusted.

I like that. What kind of flowers do you like?

 

 

David sank back in his leather chair and grinned. Finally she was engaged in the conversation.

Gladiolas.

Nice. What do they represent?

Strength of character.

Right on the money there.

He shook his head when he saw she’d punctuated that sentence with a silly winking smiley face. He sat forward. Time to shake things up a little.

What about steel. Do you like the cold, hard bite of it against your skin?

An image of her stretched out naked on his bed with her arms up over her head and her wrists firmly locked to his headboard in a pair of shiny manacles, stroked him. He was just envisioning how he’d position her legs when his phone vibrated.

I’m not sure I should answer that.

So not an option.

You have to.

Is that a rule?

Yes.

Yes.

Yes? Man she had guts. He readjusted in his seat. He’d been semi-hard imagining her cuffed to his bed but now that he knew she’d like it, his cock turned to stone. Digging into his thigh. Straining against the zipper of his pants. He ignored the discomfort and typed.

Do you like charades?

Not especially.

He nodded.

What about solitaire?

Love it.

What are you wearing?

A black-lace teddy with matching thong.

He laughed. She was a deceitful little brat when she wanted to be. There was no way in hell she slept in sexy lingerie every night of the week, if at all.

Are you sure?

Of course. *gasp* What kind of question is that?

He sighed because once again she’d included a silly face. Only this one had crossed eyes and its tongue hanging out of its mouth. He thought about calling her on it but then decided not to press her as he knew the motivating factor behind her fib. Him. Or rather her trying to impress him.

Tomorrow I want you to wear something I send you. Will you?

What is it?

It’s black.

I’m waiting…

He narrowed his eyes and replied.

So am I.

Yes.

He smiled at that then sent.

You’ll see.

Not fair.

I know.

He was just about to type good night when his phone shook in his palm.

David?

He didn’t know why he was holding his breath.

Yes?

I’m not sure we should be doing this. I’m worried.

He sighed and released the pent up air in his lungs in a rush. Now was not the time to ask her what she was worried about. If he did, he was sure she’d feed him the same bullshit excuse she’d given him at dinner. About how they might screw up being friends when they’d be expected to frequently get together with “the gang”. That’s not what she was worried about. Deep down he knew it, but question was, did she?

I’m sure and don’t worry. It’s going to be fun, remember?

That’s what I’m afraid of…

This time the silly face she included with those words was sideways and sported an inverted “V” bracket over the eyes. He shook his head and typed.

You’ve agreed to wear what I send you tomorrow and us ‘having fun’ is all you’re afraid of?

Crazy, huh?

He rubbed his thumb over those words as he thought about them and her. He’d been right. There was something special about her. Too bad she didn’t know it.

Crazy? No, smart. Now get some sleep.

K.

No sooner had he put his phone down then it vibrated again and he picked it back up.

David?

Yes?

I’m really wearing my oversized whiskers and paws t-shirt from the last fundraiser I attended.

With her admitting that truth an unaccountable pleasure stole through him, but so did something else.

That’s all you’re wearing?

I swear. That’s it.

An image of her in just a shirt. Nothing else under it but skin. All naked and warm. Silky and—

Oh, my bad. I do have a thong on too.

When he saw the brightly smiling face that accompanied those words his eyes narrowed and he altered his earlier assessment of her. She was special all right. A special brat. No wonder he wanted her with a passion that kept him up at nights.

Tomorrow when my package arrives call me before you open it.

Why?

You’ll see. Go to sleep now. Good night.

He stood and stuffed his phone in his pocket as he thought about how she’d react to his gift. He wasn’t usually heavy handed when it came to relationships. Not his kind of relationships at any rate. Normally he took his time and savored the getting to know one another part of a courtship to deepen trust, but with her he’d have to be different. He’d have to make concessions and so would she. At least until he had a better handle on her. She needed someone to unlock her and he had every intention on being that magic key.

His phone rocked on the desk and he stared down at it, noticing that the lit screen highlighted a sad face. Reaching out, he traced an index finger over the image. Wondering, and not for the first time, why she was freely expressive when there were phones and distance between them and yet, face to face, she was as sober as a little judge.

He ran a hand through his hair and decided one thing. Lacy Pembrook had a story and if he got his way, he was going to make sure it became an epic.