Master!
We’re up to day three in the Foreign Affairs showcase. Today, I’m sharing the first chapter of Master (previously titled Misplaced Lesson). I think the new title is much hotter (as is the cover) and it fits the story better. Don’t forget, you can buy all four book independently (Princess is free) OR you can get all four books for the price of two in a brand new box set simply called Foreign Affairs.
MasterForeign Affairs, Book Three
Fantasizing about forced sex with a stranger is one thing—waking up to find a scruffy man binding you to a bed is quite another. Amy fights him, until she realizes her friend Harper must have set up the sexy scenario. They’ve swapped lives, with Harper flying to Australia and lending her Chicago home to Amy. While she’s surprised Harper would go to such lengths to help her fulfill a fantasy, Amy figures…why not?
After days of nonstop travel, Andrew arrives at the home he shares with his sister, Harper, with sleep on his mind—until he finds a naked intruder sleeping in his bed. Subduing and binding the beauty, he assumes she’s the blind date his pal Mike had tried to set him up with. But would Mike actually sneak the woman into Andrew’s house? Seems so. And he’s not one to turn down such a gift.
By the time each has learned the other’s true identity, Amy and Andrew have shared the most intense sexual experience of their lives. And they certainly don’t want to stop now.
Chapter One
Amelia Wesson—Amy to her friends—wandered around Harper Shaw’s house in Chicago and resisted the urge to pinch herself…again. She was in America. She was really here.
For most of her life, she’d dreamed of traveling abroad, seeing foreign countries, experiencing different cultures.
Hazel Sullivan, the matriarch of Farpoint Creek Cattle Station in Australia, told Amy she had a case of wanderlust, and according to Hazel, she had it bad.
Her boss didn’t have to tell her that. Amy’s best friend, Josephine, had wallpapered every square inch of her room with pictures of Daniel Johns and Silverchair when they were growing up, but Amy had opted to display the photos of foreign places she’d torn out of old calendars. She’d spend hours looking at the pictures and imagining herself walking the city streets of New York or London, Rome or L.A.
And now she was here, in Chicago, in the United States of America. Yep. Definitely a pinch-worthy moment. Meeting Harper online had probably been the best stroke of luck Amy had ever had in a life full of nothing special.
Her mobile phone rang. Speak of the devil, she thought as she glanced at the screen.
“Hey. How you going?” Amy asked.
Harper chuckled. “You’re going to have to start working on your American lingo, Amy, if you want to fit in. I’m doing just fine. Sitting in Sydney Airport waiting for the connecting flight to Cobar. Your friends better be there to pick me up so I can take over your life. Figure I’ve only got two weeks to completely wreck the impressionable minds of your students. I’m anxious to start.”
Amy felt a twinge of homesickness as she thought about the life she’d so willingly traded away for this adventure. She was the teacher on Farpoint Creek Cattle Station, and her charges—children of the jackaroos and families who worked on the station—ranged from kindy to year six. Once her students entered their seventh year, they finished their education via School of the Air.
Thank God.
Amy’s mastery of Algebra and the upper maths courses was shaky at best. Two plus two—no problem. Add in a bunch of wonky symbols and things took a bad turn.
“I’ve seen your lesson plans, mate, and I know you’re a great teacher. I’m not worried about you messing up anything. Besides, the kids are so excited about meeting you and hearing all about their American pen pals firsthand, I don’t think you’ll have time to teach them much of anything. They have a list of questions as long as the Murray River.”
Amy had come up with the idea of starting an international pen pal program a year ago and had gone searching on several educational blogs for an American teacher willing to join forces. Through some long, meandering series of clicks—she could get lost on the internet for days—she’d come across Harper Shaw, a fourth grade teacher who was also hoping to find pen pals for her students. They’d begun emailing, making quick introductions and exploring their ideas for the letter-writing lesson. Then the emails turned to IMs, in which they shared work war stories and lesson plans. Finally, about nine months ago, they’d started Skyping, chatting for hours each weekend about anything and everything. Though they’d never met face-to-face, Amy considered Harper one of her best friends.
“So what do you think of the house? You’re there, right?” Harper asked.
“I got in about half an hour ago. It’s gorgeous. You made a mistake offering this life swap. I’m squatting here permanently.”
She heard a voice announce the departure of a flight to London through the phone. Amy could imagine exactly where Harper was sitting as she waited to begin the next leg of her journey. She’d be sitting in that same place in a couple weeks as she returned home.
Please don’t let the fortnight go by too fast.
Harper scoffed. “The way I remember it, it was you who came up with this Freaky Friday idea of switching lives.”
They’d been Skyping one Saturday morning in March—actually it had been a.m. in Oz, Friday night in Chicago—and Amy mentioned a movie she’d watched the night before. She couldn’t recall the name of the film, but in it, two women had decided to swap houses, one woman traveling to America as the other took off for England. Amy had remarked that it was a great idea and probably the only way she’d ever be able to afford a big trip to America.
“I merely mentioned the movie. You were the one who said we should try it.”
“I’m glad we did. Jesus. I can’t believe I’m sitting in an airport in Australia. I’m bone-tired from seven hundred years on that international flight, but so freaking excited I feel like pinching myself.”
She and Harper were destined to be friends for life. “I know the feeling, believe me. I’ve been so busy the past few days, getting everything settled at home, and then packing that I don’t think it had time to sink in. Now that I’m standing here, it’s just…bloody hell, it’s incredible.”
Amy had jumped at the chance to see Chicago, accepting Harper’s unexpected offer before her friend could change her mind. For days they’d tried to find a time that would work best for both of them. They’d settled on Harper’s spring break from work. Though the actual school holiday was only a week long, Harper had a week’s worth of vacation days she was willing to tack on as well. Rather than push the trip off until summer—neither of them had wanted to wait that long—they’d booked flights for April.
“I guess you managed to find the key?” Harper asked.
“Yep. Right where you said you’d leave it. Under the third flowerpot from the left on the front porch. The house is so beautiful. I’m afraid this trade isn’t exactly fair. I live in a tiny cottage twenty minutes from the station’s main homestead. Nothing fancy.”
Amy had rushed through every room of Harper’s home when she’d first arrived. Harper and her brother, Andrew, had inherited the large house from their father upon his death nearly a decade earlier. While Andrew still kept a room there, the house primarily belonged to Harper.
As she and Harper spoke, Amy wandered upstairs once more, thrilled to bits with the idea that this gorgeous place would be her home for two whole weeks.
She returned to Harper’s bedroom at the top of the stairs. The classic décor and understated elegance reflected Harper’s love of simple beauty. Her friend was lovely in an unassuming way. She didn’t need makeup to enhance her natural healthy good looks. The room, though humble, echoed its owner.
The walls were mint green and that color was pulled out in the leaves of the soft floral doona covering Harper’s queen-sized bed. There was a chaise lounge next to a bay window that looked out onto a well-kept garden bursting with flowers that screamed of spring. There was a dressing table with a chair and mirror—the sort of set Amy had always wanted when she was a young girl. The hardwood floor was covered with a soft off-white rug. Amy sucked in a deep breath and caught what she assumed was a whiff of Harper’s perfume. The fresh, clean scent matched the room and the person who lived here.
Amy sank down on the bed. “I love your bedroom. It’s so comfy and inviting.”
“It’s just a room. I cleaned the hell out of it right before I left. You’re seeing it on a good day. Usually it’s a disaster area.”
“I did the same thing to my house. Scrubbed it from top to bottom. Of course, Thomo and Blue helped, so it wasn’t too bad.”
“Thomo and Blue?”
“Those are Keith and Marc’s nicknames. You’ll probably hear them called by those more than their given names. Listen, if you need anything, just find one of them. They’ve promised me they’ll look after you. I reckon life on a cattle station is way different than what you experience in Chicago. Everyone at Farpoint is nice, but there are a couple blokes you want to look out for. Marc and Keith will make sure no one comes on too strong.”
Amy had grown up on Farpoint Creek, and while there were plenty of women on the station, her closest friends were Marc and Keith. She grinned when she recalled the bon voyage party they’d thrown for her three nights ago. Amy rubbed her temple. She could still feel a bit of the hangover.
Her two mates knew what this trip meant to her. They’d even given her a going-away present—one hundred American dollars to spend on whatever the hell she wanted. Well, with one caveat. Marc had pulled her aside later to beg her to buy him a souvenir. As if she wouldn’t. Her friendship with the two men was the only thing that made life on the cattle station bearable. Although she loved her home and her friends, she constantly longed to be somewhere—anywhere—else.
“I wish I could offer you the same protection, but I sort of purposely timed this vacation so that Andrew would be out of the country the whole time I’m away.”
Amy shook her head. “I still can’t believe you didn’t tell your brother about your trip. Given his line of work, I’m sure he would have told you to go and have fun.”
Andrew was host of a big cable show, Off the Beaten Path on the Travel Channel, and his job kept him constantly on the move. Amy continually pumped Harper for details about Andrew’s adventures. The man was living her dream, traveling all over the world, exploring different customs, religions, foods, and she couldn’t imagine a more spectacular life.
“You don’t know Andrew. What’s good for him is not good for his baby sister. He takes overprotectiveness to new extremes. If I’d told him what I was planning to do, he would have invited himself along to keep an eye on me. It’s kind of hard to do something impulsive and spontaneous with your overbearing, older brother hovering.”
“I’m sure he’s not that bad.”
Harper laughed. “Trust me, I’m painting him in the best possible light. He’s actually a lot worse than that. As far as Andrew knows, I’m spending my spring break at an educational conference and I’ll be too busy to call. Figure that’ll buy me at least one week of vacation free and clear before he starts his daily checking-in routine. It’s going to be tricky catching his calls the second week, what with the time change.”
“You know, I think it’s kind of sweet that he calls to talk to you every day.” Amy was one of three girls, but she and her sisters argued more than coddled. Harper had become the sister of her heart, the one she reached out to in times of need.
“Yeah. Truth is I love him more than the White Sox, despite his caveman tactics. But even so, I’m glad for the respite.”
“Well, I hate to break it to you, but you may have traded one bossy brother for two. Blue and Thomo can be just as domineering. They gave me an ear-bashing for days before I left about how I shouldn’t do this or to be careful of that. We may not share the same blood, but those buggers have appointed themselves the role of my keepers. I’m afraid you might be facing more of the same.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. Crap, I took a Dramamine to keep from getting motion sickness on this next puddle jumper, but it’s starting to make me drowsy. I hate flying in shoeboxes. Hope I didn’t take it too early.”
Amy looked at her watch. She’d adjusted the time as soon as she landed at O’Hare Airport. Mentally, she did the maths. Australia was fifteen hours ahead of Chicago. “It won’t be long now. The connecting flight to Cobar is going to feel like an up and down one compared to the long-arse flight you just did. Keith and Marc will be there to get you. If I know Hazel, she probably pushed them out so bright and early it was still dark, just so they wouldn’t make you wait. She’s as excited to meet you as Thomo and Blue.”
“I hope she likes me. It was really cool of her to let a stranger come to teach. No way that would happen in the States.”
“Hazel will love you. Promise.”
The Sullivan family owned Farpoint Creek. It was Hazel Sullivan who’d convinced Amy to go to Chicago and agreed to Harper taking over her position as teacher for two weeks. Hazel said letting her take the extended holiday was the least she could do, since it was probably her sons’ fault that Amy was so unhappy on the station.
Dylan and Hunter had found American girlfriends in the past year. Actually, Dylan had married his artist, Monet, and was currently on his honeymoon. Monet and Hunter’s girlfriend, Annie, had taken up residence on Farpoint and Amy spent countless hours talking to them about their lives in New York, as well as their travels to other amazing places.
“I guess I should get off here. It looks like they’re about to start calling for passengers for this flight,” Harper said. “Then I’m off to see your cowboys.”
“They’re not cowboys, Harper. Marc’s a jackaroo, cause he’s only in his early twenties and Keith is a stockman cause he’s an old bastard of twenty-eight. You might want to brush up on your Aussie vocab too.”
“Jackaroo, stockman. Got it. Oh hey. Before I forget, there are some staples in the fridge to keep you going until you get to the store—milk, eggs, stuff like that. The fresh towels are in the closet at the top of the stairs and the keys to my car, if you’re brave enough to attempt driving in America, are on the hook by the foyer table. Just remember, we drive on the right side. You crazy fools drive on the wrong side.”
“Bloody hell. I’m fine taking taxis or the train. Dying to try those things anyway. There’s no way I’d risk my life trying to tackle your roads. I reckon I’d have a heart attack every time I had to make a right turn, fearing I’d smash into somebody. Those car keys will stay on the hook.”
“Chicken shit. Fine. I planned a big surprise for you too. It’s something you’ve always wanted.”
Amy perked up. She loved pressies. “What is it?”
“If I tell you, it won’t be a surprise.”
“Where is it?”
Harper laughed. “It’s not in the house…yet. So don’t bother looking for it. And you won’t know when it’s arriving, but be ready. It’ll knock your socks off! Promise.”
“Crap. I hate surprises. Will you give me a hint at least?”
Harper refused. “Nope. Just remember to keep an open mind.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“You’ll see.” Harper yawned loudly. “Damn, they better start loading this plane soon or I’m likely to fall asleep in this chair.”
“Okay. See you later, Harper.”
“Bye, Amy.”
Amy pressed End on her phone and sighed. If there was one part of the trip she regretted, it was that she wouldn’t get to meet Harper face-to-face.
She wondered what the surprise could be. The two of them had shared so many secrets in the past few months, Amy couldn’t even guess what Harper had planned for her.
A couple weeks ago they’d gotten drunk together via Skype, and Amy had told Harper things she’d never admitted to another living soul. Amy had been feeling sorry for herself for spending another weekend dateless and stuck at home, so she’d consumed a bottle of wine. On a whim, she’d drunk-Skyped Harper, surprised to find her friend also off her face.
Harper had been treating herself to early-morning birthday Bloody Marys, indulging in the same pity party. As usual, they’d turned to each other for company and spent nearly two hours laughing and sharing their dirtiest sex fantasies. Amy still blushed when she recalled the detail she’d gone into as she told Harper all about her sex-with-a-stranger dream. Of course, considering Harper’s fantasy was to participate in a ménage, maybe they were even in the red-hot-fantasy category.
She glanced around Harper’s room once more. She’d done it, found her way to America. Amy had spent hours on the internet planning her Chicago itinerary, making a list of everything she absolutely had to see before returning home.
She reached into her back pocket and pulled out her passport. Grinning at her foolishness, she lifted Harper’s mattress and stashed it as Hazel’s voice came back to her. “Don’t leave that passport out in plain sight. Someone might steal it.” Amy had asked who the blazes would want her passport, but Hazel told her to hide it just the same, so she didn’t lose it. Truth be told that was probably her boss’s biggest concern. She often lamented about Amy losing her head if it wasn’t attached. So, for Hazel’s sake, she’d keep her passport safe.
Rising from the bed, she continued exploring the upstairs rooms, walking farther down the hall and peeking into what appeared to be a catchall room. A treadmill covered with clothes sat next to boxes filled with Christmas ornaments, then there was a desk and a filing cabinet. Amy’s own elliptical back in Farpoint served the same purpose—used less for workout and more as a clothesline.
She ventured on to the guest room where she’d left her luggage. Though Harper would be sleeping in Amy’s bedroom—it was the only room available in her tiny cottage—Amy didn’t feel right taking over her friend’s space with such a warm and welcoming guest room down the hall. She stared at her open suitcase. She should unpack, but exhaustion was kicking in. Between layovers, flights and the taxi ride from O’Hare, she’d been traveling nonstop for nearly twenty-seven hours. Adrenaline could only take her so far. She was buggered.
She was about to collapse on the bed when a closed door at the end of the hallway caught her eye. She’d missed it on her first rushed tour of the house. Curiosity defeated tiredness.
The door was unlocked. Opening it, she stepped into the large room—and sucked in a deep breath.
The walls seemed to mimic her bedroom back home.
The stark white paint was covered with breathtaking color photos of some of the most beautiful places on earth. Several of the landscapes she recognized immediately from the pictures she’d torn out of travel magazines over the years. However, there were just as many places she’d never laid eyes on. The familiar ache in her chest returned as she realized how much of the world there really was to see.
This had to be Andrew’s room. No doubt he’d taken the color shots himself, a photographic reminder of all the incredible places he’d journeyed to.
“Lucky bastard,” she muttered jealously. The rest of the room was equally inviting. Andrew had a king-sized bed that looked soft as a cloud. Walking over, she ran her hand along the comforter, then the pillowcase. Silk sheets. Holy shit. She’d always wanted to sleep in a bed with silk sheets.
The room seemed less lived in than Harper’s. The top of the dresser was devoid of knickknacks. The books on the shelf were organized a little too perfectly. Even the laundry basket in the corner was empty. If Amy didn’t know Andrew lived here, she’d think this room was a second guest room. Of course, given the fact, the man traveled most of the year and kept an apartment in Los Angeles as well, it made sense that his room would look neater, less inhabited.
She considered returning to the guest room then changed her mind. According to Harper, Andrew was out of the country, spending the next three weeks on location in the South Pacific. Amy toed off her shoes then tugged off her blouse, jeans and panties. Stripping off her bra, she added it to the pile of clothes beside the bed and pulled down the sheets.
One night. She’d give herself one night between the silk sheets in the huge bed. Tomorrow, she’d move into the guest room.
Maybe.
* * * * *
Andrew Shaw pulled onto the road that led to the home he shared with his sister and released a long sigh. He was fucking wiped out. The last three days had been an experiment in torture when his shoot was cancelled due to a monsoon expected to hit the island he’d intended to be make number eight on his Best Kept Secrets show. He’d been in perpetual motion, hopping from boat to plane to boat and then another plane before his producer called to say they were scrapping the visit.
His phone rang, jerking him from his misery. “Fuck.” One glance at the screen told him he wasn’t going to enjoy this phone call.
“What?” Andrew said by way of greeting.
His best friend, Mike, chuckled. “Welcome home. Is it too soon to say I told you so?” Mike, a meteorologist, had been watching the progression of the storm and had told him not to bother getting on the plane in the first place.
“Yeah. It’s too soon. Besides, you assholes are never right. How did you know I was back?”
“Tom called a few hours ago. Gave me the flight times. I just dropped Mars off at his house and now I’m headed home.”
Mike served as dog sitter for his cameraman Tom’s mutt. Given the amount of time Andrew and Tom were out of the country, it was probably safer to say he and Mike were co-owners of the gigantic dog. Not that either man seemed to mind sharing.
“From the sound of your voice, I assume it was a shitty trip.”
Andrew switched on the windshield wipers and bit back a curse. All this rain was starting to piss him off. “It sucked. Did you call just to rub salt in the wound or did you want something?”
They had been friends too long for Mike to take offense at his sharp tone. “You on your way home?”
“Of course I am. Where else would I go?”
“Thought you might blow off some steam at the club. Wondered if you wanted company.”
Andrew had considered heading to Velvet Chains as soon as he got off the plane at O’Hare. In the past, it wouldn’t have even been a question. The private sex club was usually his and Tom’s first stop after a long trip. It helped ground Andrew, relax him.
Mike had introduced him to the BDSM scene shortly after Andrew’s twenty-first birthday. Mike’s father and uncle co-owned Velvet Chains, so his friend had grown up around the lifestyle. Andrew had not. His first trip had been an eye-opening, life-altering experience. Mike jokingly insisted he’d known about Andrew’s Dom tendencies since their freshmen year in high school, but he figured it was best to wait until Andrew was old enough to handle the news.
Lately, however, he’d found himself becoming bored with the action at the club. While the subs were quite pretty and more than eager to please, he struggled to find the same pleasure, the same sense of adventure he’d experienced in the early days.
“Thought you’d given up the club scene since settling down with Joanne. Married life already chafing, Mike?”
Andrew could imagine the goofy grin on his friend’s face at hearing the name of his wife. Since getting married, Mike had adopted the annoying theory that Andrew needed to take a walk down the aisle too if he ever planned to be happy.
“I’d just be going for a drink. Joanne trusts me. Although knowing my sexy girl, she’d probably insist on coming with me.”
Mike had met Joanne at Velvet Chains. There’d been no doubt the moment the two laid eyes on each other they were meant to be together. Though Andrew felt twinges of jealousy over his friend’s newfound contentment, there was no way he’d admit it.
Andrew released a weary sigh. “I’m not going out tonight.”
Mike was silent for just a moment. “Good.”
Andrew felt his temper spike again. Mike had subjected him to too many lectures about his bachelor status, insisting it was time Andrew gave up his one-night stands with strangers and started looking for a serious girlfriend. Mike could be relentless when he got an idea in his head. As it was, he’d tried to set Andrew up no less than a dozen times the past few months with friends of Joanne’s who would be “perfect for him”. So far Andrew had refused every date.
“Don’t start,” Andrew warned, well aware of where the conversation was going. He’d rather hear what a fool he’d been to hop on a flight headed straight for a monsoon than be subjected to more haranguing about settling down.
“Hear me out. There’s this friend of Joanne’s we’d like you to meet.”
Andrew gritted his teeth. “Mike—” he started.
“Before you start making excuses, I really think you should agree to a blind date with Amy. She’s exactly your type. Pretty, submissive, sexy as sin. You’ll love her.”
“Not interested.”
Mike released a long, slow breath.
If there was one thing Andrew and his friend were perfectly matched in, it was stubbornness.
“Fine.” Mike’s tone told Andrew he was far from finished, but at least his friend knew him well enough to leave it alone tonight. Even so, he wasn’t sure Mike had ever relented so quickly. Andrew must sound more exhausted than he thought.
Andrew turned into his driveway and felt a sense of relief. He was home. His own bed was close. All he needed was to sleep twenty-four hours or so, and then he’d be back in fighting shape. “Listen. I’m home now. I’ll call you tomorrow. Maybe we can get together this weekend and take in a White Sox game or something.”
“Sounds good. Get some rest.” Mike clicked off with a quick goodbye.
Andrew grabbed his suitcase from the trunk and tiredly walked to the front porch. The house was dark. Harper had left town shortly after he’d taken off for his ill-fated trip, attending some sort of teachers’ conference in Minneapolis over spring break. He hoped her mini-vacation was fairing better than his had. He couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to spend their time off doing what was the equivalent of more work, but Harper was nothing if not a devoted teacher. He felt the same sense of pride that filled him whenever he thought of his baby sister. She was the only family he had left in the world and he adored her.
Locking the door behind him, he climbed the stairs in the quiet house, not bothering to turn on a light. He’d grown up in this place, knew it by heart. He treaded lightly on the third step to avoid the creak, even though he knew he was the only one home. Some habits were so tightly engrained they never left.
He glanced through the open door to Harper’s bedroom as he passed, the room bright with moonlight. As expected, her bed was empty. He paused briefly, missing her. She seldom went anywhere, so when she wasn’t home, he felt her absence deeply. It was going to be a lonely week here without her bubbly, energetic presence. He’d considered going on to L.A. to stay in his own apartment, but he’d felt the urge to spend some time in his hometown.
Continuing down the hallway, he didn’t stop until he reached his own room. The second he crossed the threshold, the hair on the back of his neck stood up.
Something wasn’t right.
He quietly placed his luggage on the floor, forcing his eyes to adjust to the darkness. The curtains in Harper’s room had been open, but his were drawn. The lack of moonlight left him blind.
Taking a few cautious steps into the room, he made his way to the window. Someone was here. He could feel it. Reaching toward the wall, he found his baseball bat. He’d played third base on his high school team, but he’d hung up his mitt shortly after heading to college. However, he’d never gotten rid of the bat, the hard wood now serving as the weapon he’d kept in the corner of his room for years.
Once he wrapped his hand around the bat, he drew it up, ready to swing. There wasn’t any movement in the room, but he could definitely hear someone breathing near the bed. Approaching slowly, he almost tripped over something on the floor. As his gaze adjusted to the dark, he noticed the pile of clothing at his feet, then he managed to make out a lump in his bed.
What the hell?
Someone was in his bed, and given their deep, relaxed breathing, they were sound asleep. Turning back to the window, he quietly parted the curtains, anxious for some light. The person never stirred. Andrew kept the bat raised as he retuned to the bed.
With the moonlight shining in, he could see much clearer—and was shocked at the image of a naked woman in his bed.
He glanced around to confirm they were alone. The rest of his room looked normal, nothing touched or disturbed. The only thing out of place was the beauty who’d taken up residence between his silk sheets.
Andrew stood for several moments trying to figure out his next move. The rest of the house was quiet, but part of him wondered if the woman was here as a ruse, a distraction. Shit. He needed to lighten up on the murder-mystery books. He’d read two stories in the past three days as he killed time waiting in airports because of delayed flights.
He wasn’t even supposed to be here. The only people who knew he was in Chicago were Mike and Tom.
The woman rolled from her side to her back, treating him to an unhindered view of her left breast as the sheet drifted lower.
His cock responded, stealing much-needed blood from his brain.
This woman had broken into his home. Somehow she’d known the house was empty. He fought down his arousal and decided to take action, to get some answers. He carefully put the bat down, leaning it against the nightstand in case he needed to grab it again quickly.
Then he slowly reached behind the headboard, silently searching for the straps he knew were there. He hadn’t brought a woman back to the house in years out of respect for his sister, but he also hadn’t bothered to remove the restraints he’d had installed when he was younger. Once the strap was freed from its hiding place, he walked to the other side of the bed, looking for the mate.
He took a deep breath, trying to calm down. He wasn’t sure exactly what was causing the sudden racing of his heart—the anticipation of a fight or rock-hard, pulse-pounding arousal.
Moving ever so carefully, he reached for one of the woman’s wrists, dragging it toward the first restraint. If he could fasten the straps before she woke, it would make his job of questioning her easier.
Unfortunately, luck was not on his side. The woman’s eyes snapped open at his touch. She started to scream, so Andrew covered her mouth with his hand as she began to fight him in earnest. While he had to have her by almost a hundred pounds, the petite woman waged one hell of a battle. She scratched his face as he struggled to reclaim his grip on her hand. Despite her naked state, she kicked off the covers, freeing her legs to pummel his thighs with blows strong enough to leave bruises.
Forced to keep her mouth covered, lest she wake up the neighborhood with her screaming, he tried to subdue her one-handed. When that attempt failed, he released her mouth. The woman started to scream again, so he quickly grabbed her blouse from the floor and stuffed some of the material into her mouth, muffling her cries.
Her initial shock at being gagged gave him the precious seconds he needed to snap a restraint around one of her wrists. When she realized what he was doing, she doubled her efforts. With one of her hands out of play, it was easier to capture and restrain the second.
For the first time, desperation and fear crept onto her face.
“I’m not going to hurt you.” His words sounded ridiculous even to himself. He’d gagged her and was now straddling her naked body, holding her legs to the mattress with his own after tying her to the bed. Regardless of who she was or why she was there, she’d be insane not to be afraid of his intentions.
She twisted her head, trying to dislodge the shirt from her mouth.
“If I take it out, do you promise not to scream?”
She blinked rapidly then nodded her assent.
He pulled the material away, ready to replace it if she broke her vow.
“Untie me.”
“No.” Andrew reached up to touch his tender cheek, his fingers finding the raised welts she’d put there with her long nails. “Who are you?”
Her breathing was labored, coming in hard pants after their fight. Even so, her gaze hardened and he knew she wouldn’t talk.
Something inside him cracked. He’d been traveling for days, stealing only a couple hours sleep here and there. This woman had broken into his house. She had some nerve acting like he was the villain. By God, he’d make her talk.
“I’ll give you one more chance to answer my question. Tell me who you are or you won’t like the consequences.”
She stilled beneath him, her intelligent gaze sizing him up. He should climb off the bed and call the cops. If he was in his right mind, that’s exactly what he’d do. Having her arrested would certainly be the kinder response. As it was, he wasn’t in the mood to be merciful.
Instead of answering, she threw his question back at him. “Who are you?”
“None of your business. Give me your name. Now.”
She bit her lip nervously. “I’m Amy.”
Amy? Mike’s Amy?
Andrew leaned back on his haunches, his mind whirling. Had Mike set this up? Past experience had obviously convinced his friend he’d never consent to a blind date. But would Mike actually go so far as to throw this woman into his bed?
Andrew knew the answer. It was more than possible. It was actually quite probable. Mike had the extra key to the house. He knew Harper was away and Andrew was back in town.
Andrew recalled a lifetime of little surprises his best friend had tossed his way. The high-class call girl who’d shown up at his door on his twenty-fifth birthday. The so-called conference that had really turned out to be an impromptu weekend trip to Vegas, complete with nonstop gambling and a private show with five of the hottest strippers Andrew had ever seen. Or this past year when Mike had managed to score tickets to the Super Bowl, but told Andrew they were headed to Indianapolis for his cousin’s bachelor party. He’d let Andrew bitch for three hours in the car about missing the big game, only letting him in on the surprise when they’d reached the entrance to the stadium.
Mike was the master of the unexpected, so it wasn’t farfetched that his friend would go to this extreme in a hookup. It would also explain his friend’s easy capitulation when he refused to go on a date with the woman earlier. Mike didn’t push the issue because he knew Amy was already here.
He grinned as his annoyance lifted. Amy was beautiful and feisty, with a hot accent. Australian, if he wasn’t mistaken, though he’d need to hear her say more before he could be sure. His best friend knew he was a sucker for a girl with an accent. For the second time in one night, it looked like Mike was going to be able to say, “I told you so.”
And since Mike had gone to so much trouble, far be it from Andrew to look a gift horse in the mouth.
