Donovan Dynasty: Bind Part 8

"The Heights," she said after a long sigh.

"If you're agreeable, I'll have my driver pick you up around seven-thirty."

"I always prefer to drive myself so that I'm free to come and go as I choose."

Her words were tacit agreement, but he was smart enough to realize he didn't have her. Yet. "Of course. Keep in mind, April is at your disposal. Even if it's late, you'd be safe. And if you'd like a gla.s.s of wine, you wouldn't have to worry about driving. I'd be more comfortable."

"What if I wanted you to pick me up?"

He recognized what she was doing. Showing her independence, an obligatory objection to ceding control to him. "As if it were a date, rather than an introduction to my form of seduction?"

She caught her breath.

"If that makes you happy, Lara, I'd be delighted to pick you up."

"I'll let you know what I decide." She reached for her jacket. "But I still may not come at all."

He didn't argue. "Let me help with that. Please." His words were light. His tone was commanding. His expectation allowed no argument.

Responding as he'd hoped, she waited while he crossed the room, picked the jacket up and held it for her.

"Are you always so mannerly?" she asked as she turned back to face him.

"With my woman? Yes."

"Your woman? Your woman?" Her voice held a touch of indignation and outrage, but the question had emerged shaky.

"That's what you want to be," he reminded her. "Isn't it?" He smoothed her lapels.

"No." She shook her head.

"My wife? What do you think it means?" For a few moments, he let her think about it. Now, he saw, with the way she was rubbing her upper arms, realization was settling in. When she'd walked into his office, she'd obviously had an abstract idea of what she was proposing. Business had been her focus, and apparently it hadn't occurred to her that he'd expect something more.

He walked back to his desk, and she followed. He picked up her phone then dropped it back in her bag. He re-clasped it before returning it to her.

"Thank you. It's been memorable."

"It has, indeed." He went to the door and unlocked it. His hand on the k.n.o.b, he paused. "And I won't forget I owe you a punishment."

Her grip whitened on the bag.

"I'll be waiting to hear from you." He opened the door and she walked past without another word.

Lara kept her composure until he'd closed the door behind her.

Then, realizing Thompson wasn't in the room, she exhaled raggedly and sank into a chair.

What the h.e.l.l had she been thinking in coming here, proposing to Connor Donovan when she knew nothing, nothing about him?

Even after he'd revealed that he was a Dominant, she'd stayed. Not only that, but she'd made things worse by following his soft-spoken commands. She'd all but invited his touch then she'd surrendered to his kiss.

Worse, she'd done it willingly. And she wanted to do it again.

If she were smarter, she'd get away and stay away.

She drew a breath. Last night, as insomnia had stalked her, Erin's words had seemed to play on an endless loop. Somewhere around midnight, Lara had started to consider the idea of marriage to Connor. For the next hour or two, she'd come up with a dozen reasons why that was a ridiculous idea, including her outrageous attraction to him. From the night she'd first met him, she'd recognized he was dangerous. Despite that, she'd been ensnared by his steely gray eyes.

Eventually, she'd fallen into a restless sleep. After dawn had awakened and she'd guzzled half a pot of coffee, she'd hit the shower. Thoughts of Connor hadn't been far away.

Then she'd received a copy of an email one of their attorneys had sent to her father. The woman had raised concerns regarding several clauses on a contract her father intended to sign. The news had startled Lara, though it shouldn't have. It was simply another in a string of decisions she disagreed with.

While she'd been dressing, she'd reached the inevitable conclusion. She did, indeed, need an ally on the board. A strong, powerful one. And Erin was right. Connor was brilliant. He had the financial resources and strategic thinking skills to help her out.

But was marriage the logical solution?

After breakfast, she'd pulled out a file containing BHI's legal doc.u.ments and realized there were only two ways to get him a seat on the board. One was through her father's invitation. She didn't see that happening. Family members, on the other hand, were automatically accorded a seat.

She'd spent hours thinking it through and had decided that a marriage of convenience would be a wise move for both of them. For her, especially.

There had been a definite spark between her and Connor the other night outside the elevator. She knew she hadn't imagined it. So she'd decided to exploit it.

Even though she hadn't worn those heels or that suit in months, she'd selected both. The skirt was a bit too tight, and a look in the mirror had shown her that it flaunted her b.u.t.tocks. Generally she didn't wear the outfit because it was a bit risque but, with Connor, that was exactly why she'd selected it.

She just hadn't expected his all-too-male reaction.

For the second time, she wondered what the h.e.l.l she'd gotten herself into.

Lara exhaled.

The outer door opened and Thompson entered the room. "Is everything okay, Ms. Bertrand?" A ferocious line was buried between his eyebrows, making him appear scary.

She totally understood what Erin had been talking about. He was extremely large, and she had no problem imagining him in military garb. With his broad shoulders and jagged scar on his bald head, he looked to be equal measures protector and kick-a.s.s intimidator. That he was so refined in his mannerisms made her feel somewhat dis...o...b..bulated. "I'm fine. Thank you." She stood, wondering if the man had any idea what his boss was into. Had he been shocked when she'd locked the door?

Embarra.s.sment tore through her.

How often did something like that happen? How many women came to Connor's office long enough for him to seduce them? Was she one of many?

Reminding herself no one had the ability to dictate her emotional state, Lara squared her shoulders as an outward show of pulling herself back together. "Thanks again for the coffee," she said as she was leaving the room.

"My pleasure. Next time I'll have biscotti for you."

"Sounds heavenly," she replied. She closed the door, knowing she wouldn't be back.

Lara kept her focus as she waited for the elevator. She avoided eye contact with other occupants and kept her head back as she strode through the lobby.

At the main entrance, a woman took a step forward. "Ms. Bertrand?"

"Yes?"

"I'm April Martinez. Mr. Donovan asked me to give you a ride back to your offices."

The gesture startled her, but she realized it shouldn't have surprised her. From her very first interaction with him, she'd felt something mesmerizing and seductive about the way he took charge of situations. Now she could add unsettling to the mix. The man liked to be in charge. Part of his dominant nature? Another sample of what it would be like if she were his woman?

"Ma'am?"

Humidity had made the afternoon feel like a swamp. The idea of air-conditioning appealed in a way that made the idea of resistance futile. "Thank you."

April indicated the sedan near the curb. Lara recognized it from the night he'd offered to rescue her from the rain.

Heat suddenly slid down her spine. Over her shoulder, she glanced up at the building, unable to shake the feeling she was being watched. Maybe she was. More likely, she was being fanciful. Connor Donovan had more important things to do than watch her drive off.

Unless he was waiting to see if she complied with his wishes?

She entered the car and a few moments later, the driver merged into traffic. "Do you have the address?" Lara asked.

"Mr. Donovan provided it." April rattled it off. "Unless you'd like to make any stops?"

In the rearview mirror, she met the woman's eyes. Lara wondered, again, how often Connor did this kind of thing. "The office is fine." Even though something to fortify her nerves appealed-the bakery or a bar. At this point, she'd settle for either.

After April dropped her off, Lara hesitated. She realized she wasn't mentally prepared to go back to work.

Instead of entering the building, she sent text messages to her administrative a.s.sistant and to her father, letting them know she was taking the afternoon off.

The drive home seemed interminable. The traffic didn't distract her, and neither did cranking up an oldies station on the radio.

And of course, when she arrived, Mrs. Fuhrman was outside with her five dogs. It didn't matter that the eccentric woman wasn't supposed to have that many. After her husband had died, Mrs. Fuhrman had signed up to be a foster parent for rescued dogs. And she couldn't always allow herself to be parted from them, especially the ones with physical ailments. The dogs were all shapes, sizes, temperaments and ages. The oldest, Happy, only had three legs.

Lara closed her car door just as Suzy-Q, an apricot-colored mastiff mix, yanked on her leash and broke free, das.h.i.+ng over toward Lara.

Even though Mrs. Fuhrman was yelling at the dog to come back and to be nice, Suzy-Q jumped up, paws landing in the middle of Lara's chest, knocking her back so that she rested on the car's fender. The dog seemed to smile before licking her face and s...o...b..ring on her blazer.

She grinned. There was nothing like puppy love to change her att.i.tude.

"Get down right now, Suzy-Q!"

The dog ignored her owner. Instead, she put her big head on Lara's shoulder.

"I'm so sorry, Lara," Mrs. Fuhrman called out. "I don't know what's gotten into her. She hears your car and starts to lose her mind, I'm afraid."

"She's fine." She stroked the dog behind one of her ears then told her to get down. Immediately Suzy-Q complied.

Since four leashes were totally tangled and some of the dogs were excitedly barking, Lara returned Suzy-Q to Mrs. Fuhrman.

"Thank you, dear. She must love you." Mrs. Fuhrman shook her head, but not a single one of her blueish-purple hairs moved. "She's usually much better behaved than that, as you know," the woman said.

Lara didn't correct her neighbor even though Suzy-Q visited, in her exuberant, behaviorally challenged way, almost every day.

Once Suzy-Q's leash was back in the older lady's hand and the woman had slipped back into one of the shoes she'd somehow lost, Lara went inside to change and wipe off the dog's expression of affection.

An hour later, she wasn't convinced that coming home early had been the right choice. Being alone, with too much time and not enough to do, was never a good thing.

She'd already weeded the garden, pruned some flowers and tidied the house. And she hadn't been able to escape her thoughts.

She grabbed her laptop and did an Internet search on submission and Dominance.

Images populated the results, some of them appealing, most of them a bit frightening. She read a few well-written articles that explained both, from different perspectives. And it seemed that people did have varying expectations.

But she was quite certain that, despite what he'd said, she'd have to become a bit of a puppet to him.

She told herself that there was no way she was going to his home this evening. A marriage of convenience was a business deal that should be discussed in a boardroom or a neutral place. And that way, she could make sure he kept his hands off her. She'd already learned that a single touch from him could undo her.

Decision made, she closed the computer's lid.

Now she only had a few more hours she needed to fill before she could start getting ready for the next day.

After changing into running clothes and securing her hair into a ponytail, she headed out, down the street, focusing on her footfalls, looking ahead, trying to shut out the world as she normally did.

It didn't work. Unbidden, Connor's words returned to tumble through her memory. It wasn't just what he'd said. It was the certainty with which he'd said them, and the corresponding reaction that had slid through her.

Lara turned a corner and picked up the pace, even though her breathing was already labored.

As he'd suggested it might, his introductory taste had tantalized her. The way he'd tugged on her nipples had made her clench her thighs. Other men she'd been with had been afraid of giving her what she wanted, but clearly Connor wouldn't be. She wasn't sure if the idea appealed to her or terrified her.

Despite her best intentions, her mind wandered back to his talk about punishment. What the h.e.l.l had he meant by that? Part of her railed against the idea. Who the h.e.l.l did he think he was? What gave him any idea that she'd be agreeable?

And still... Curiosity made her panties damp.

In that moment, she wondered who she was fighting-Connor or herself?

She slowed her pace and headed for home.

Running in Houston's signature blend of heat and humidity was never a good idea. It zapped strength and energy. And it hadn't banished a single thought of Connor.

She let herself back into the house but nixed the thought of sitting on her leather couch in her damp clothes. Instead she filled a gla.s.s with filtered water before going outside to sit on the swing.

The overhead fan provided a welcome relief as she took several long drinks.

A hummingbird darted by, distracting her. With its unmistakable fluttering sound, it hovered for a second, then paused to sip some nectar from one of her lantanas before darting off.

She pulled out her scrunchie and told herself she wasn't going to Connor's loft tonight. Not only that, but she wasn't going to call him until tomorrow. Or the weekend. When she talked to him, it would be to let him know that a business arrangement was a solid idea but that she had no intention of being a submissive. That would complicate things far too much.

Decision made, she went back inside to take a long, cool shower.

It wasn't until afterward that she checked her cell phone.

She'd missed a call from her mother, presumably to confirm their lunch date tomorrow. Either that or her intuition had warned her that her only child was thinking of doing something potentially dangerous.