Contrasting Lives E-Book

Leah Dempster

• Herausgeber: Next Chapter
• Kategorie: Erotik
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022

Beschreibung

Widower and a single father of four, Matt Pendleton is all work and no play. Between being a hotshot detective and caring for his children, there's little time for fun. Desperate for passion and connection, Matt hires an escort for the night.

Emily Coulter is beautiful and fiercely independent, determined to make her own way in the world. Blindsided by their attraction for one another, neither can resist their desire.

Emily's past with a vicious Dom contradicts Matt's present as a cop and a dad. After she offers him more than he's expecting, can he give her everything she needs?

This book contains graphic sex and is not suitable for readers under the age of 18.

Leseprobe

Contrasting Lives

Leah Dempster

Copyright (C) 2015 Leah Dempster

Layout design and Copyright (C) 2019 by Next Chapter

Published 2019 by Next Chapter

Cover art by Hellvis

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the author's permission.

Chapter One

Sliding the key card into the slot, Matt pushed open the door and stepped into the hotel room. After the July heat outside, the air-conditioning, which steadily pumped cool air into the plush room, was a welcome respite. He stood uncertainly in the doorway for a couple of seconds, then let go of the handle and listened to the door shut with a quiet whoosh. What the hell was he doing? The cold sweat breaking across his forehead had nothing to do with the heat outside, and everything to do with the reason he was standing in a goddamn hotel room at three o'clock in the afternoon.

He was a cop, for Christ's sake. This was a mistake, an error in judgment, which he knew he'd be sorry for later. Tapping the keycard against his fingernail, he debated for a minute, trying to decide whether to stay, or if he would turn around, return to the lobby, and check back out immediately.

The problem was, he had been so desperately lonely, a situation which hadn't improved for eighteen long months. He needed someone, desperately wanted a woman to speak to, to hold. If only for a little while, he wanted to think someone cared about him. Sure he had plenty of people who did care about him – but not the way he needed right now. The ache was constant, building up in his ribs until he thought his chest would explode.

This was all Paul's fault. It was his suggestion, over a couple of beers last Friday night, which led to Matt standing here now. Paul Meccelli was an outstanding partner, a good man and a loyal friend. He'd been hammering Matt for months now to start dating again; insisting Matt needed to get back on the bike. When Matt had protested, Paul had needled endlessly until Matt had blown his cool, telling Paul he had no fucking idea how to date a woman. It had been too long, he was too old, and he wasn't comfortable with the idea in the first place. Hence Paul's suggestion that he knew someone who could help Matt out. Matt had initially rejected the suggestion outright, especially once Paul spelled out exactly what his plan involved.

But he needed a woman. Badly. At first, it hadn't been difficult to deal with, he'd been so swamped with grief, and such an abject sense of loss, the idea of sex was completely alien to him. Now though, as the months had passed and his sexual desire began to return, he often found himself with an erection capable of slamming nails into a wall and he couldn't bring himself to ease the problem himself. Why he couldn't, he didn't know. He wasn't a shrink, and he certainly didn't intend on visiting one. All he knew was that he needed the softness of a woman, the comfort a woman could give him, and nothing else was going to ease the perpetual ache.

“Last chance, Matty. Stay or go,” Matt muttered the question to himself, glancing around the room in search of an answer which wasn't readily available. It was a nice room, the hotel was downtown and distanced from the precinct where he worked – the last thing he needed was someone seeing him walk in here and guessing what he was doing.

Shit. Could he actually go through with this?

Remembering Paul's advice, he decided to stay, at least long enough to meet the woman. He could always back out. Ignoring the voice in his head, the one intent on telling him he was a coward, Matt strode across the room, and crouched to study the small safe sitting on the floor of the wardrobe. He drew his wallet from his back pocket and placed it in the safe, along with his badge, and his car keys. Despite Paul's assertion that this woman was okay, Matt wasn't taking any chances on her cleaning him out. Years of work on the police force had made him naturally cautious with strangers.

The bathroom was sterile-looking, pure white and sparkling clean. Matt splashed water over his face, staring at his reflection before he wiped the moisture from his skin. The person looking back at him didn't look too damn bad, considering what he'd been through in the past eighteen months. A few more lines around his eyes. His dark hair was beginning to show a few grays at his temples. He thought he was still looking okay for a guy in his early forties, and for the thousandth time he questioned the decision he'd made. What if he didn't find her attractive? Shit – what if he couldn't get it up, after all this? The thought was enough to have him breaking out in a cold sweat all over again, and he washed his face for a second time.

A soft knock at the room door startled him, and he clenched the bench top for a few seconds, breathing deeply. With one last glance at his reflection, he heaved a steadying breath and walked to the door, feeling like a condemned man on his way to the gallows.

When he wrenched the door open, it became apparent that arousal wasn't going to be an issue. His penis had a mind of its own, taking seconds to become rock hard as he stared wordlessly at the woman standing in the doorway.

She wasn't tall by any standards, even wearing elegant heels; she couldn't be much over five feet five. Immaculately dressed in a sexy little black number, her legs defied her short stature, by giving the impression of being much longer, perfectly shaped, and he was itching to run his fingers down the sleek black stockings she wore. The dress accentuated her full breasts, narrow waist, and curvaceous hips.

Matt forced his gaze up to her face, catching a little smile on her lips and realized he'd been studying her for a lot longer than he should have.

She held her hand out and he took it, enjoying the soft silkiness of her skin. “Matt? I'm Sienna.”

“Sienna, hello. Come in.” He stood back and she entered the room, giving him the perfect opportunity to discover the rear view was just as goddamn sexy as the front. It didn't seem possible, but he hardened further as he watched the gentle sway of her hips when she walked.

Pushing the door shut, he followed her into the room, and stood awkwardly by the TV. Shit, he'd never been awkward in his life. What was he supposed to do now? Was there a protocol for this sort of thing? He'd never been with a hooker in his entire life – while he'd met plenty, and arrested more than he cared to remember, he'd never actually met up with one for sex. Until now.

Sienna placed her purse on the table and turned to face him. “It's a pleasure to meet you, Matt.”

“You don't look like a hooker.” The words fell out of his mouth before he'd put his brain into gear, and the shadow which crossed her pretty features didn't escape his attention.

“I'm an escort, Matt. And funnily enough, you look exactly like a cop.” She arched an eyebrow. “Is this a bust?”

“What? No, not at all.” He wanted to reassure her, found he didn't want her to leave. He didn't want to mess this up, even though he still wasn't certain he could go through with having sex with her. “Do you honestly think Paul would have given me your number, if this was a shakedown?”

Sienna considered for a few seconds before she responded. “I guess not. He's a good man.”

“Yeah,” Matt admitted gruffly. “He is.”

“Your partner?” she guessed.

“Yeah. Eight years now.” She was a pretty little thing – strawberries and cream complexion, rosebud lips, bright blue eyes that were filled with an inquisitive look as she watched him quietly. Pretty didn't do her justice, Matt amended as he returned her gaze – she wasn't only pretty. She was beautiful. The blood coursing through his groin pulsed painfully as he considered what he'd like those lips to do, imagined pushing himself deep inside her mouth.

There was an extended silence as they watched one another cautiously and Matt cursed his lack of knowledge. What was he supposed to do? What did he say next? The last time he'd dated was over fifteen years ago, and this wasn't a date, he reminded himself firmly. This was a business arrangement, a fuck he was paying for, the woman standing before him was a prostitute who sold her body for a living.

“Would you like me to strip? Or would you prefer I undress you first?” Sienna asked politely.

Matt sighed heavily, raking his fingers through his hair. He didn't like either option. “Can we have a drink first? Talk a little?” He cringed inwardly, knowing he sounded like a damn fool.

Sienna studied him for a long moment, before she nodded. “Sure.” She drew a chair out from the small table and sat down, crossing her legs delicately.

Matt studied the contents of the bar fridge. “Beer? Wine? There's a chardonnay and a merlot in here.”

“Ah, actually, I'd prefer a soft drink, please. Lemonade.”

Matt extracted a soda from the fridge and poured some into a glass, before handing it to her. He selected a Corona for himself and took a slug from the bottle before he sat down. He had the opportunity to be with a beautiful woman, and he was sitting here nursing a beer. What the hell was he doing?

≈≈◊◊≈◊◊≈≈

The awkward silence stretched out through a full minute, and then two. Sienna discreetly studied the man sitting opposite her at the table. He was tall, broad shouldered, muscular. Solidly built, he looked a little ridiculous perched on the insubstantial chair and she imagined he would appear more comfortable in a big leather recliner. The dark grey suit hid what she imagined was a well-toned body, although at the rate he was moving, she doubted she would get to study it in detail before the afternoon was over. Most of her appointments didn't waste any time, getting down to business immediately. She had a couple of clients who were into talking and she was fine with that, but this guy – he looked as if he might jump out of his own skin. His nervousness was at odds with the strength and power of his physique, the hardness of his square jaw. She could see the muscle in his jaw was ticking as he nursed the Corona and looked anywhere in the room but at her.

Sienna sensed that beneath the tough exterior, he was struggling with the current situation. Paul had telephoned her after the appointment had been made, warning her Matt was going to be nervous. Clearly, it had been an understatement; the man wasn't just nervous, he was positively anxiety stricken. Remembering Paul's words and his promise of a bonus if she would help his friend, Sienna spoke “Matt, I don't know how things work in your part of the world, but I've generally found talking requires the use of words,” Sienna picked up her glass and sipped the lemonade, a twinkle playing in her blue eyes.

Matt took another slug of his beer, chewing his lip thoughtfully. “Shit, I'm sorry. I've never done this before and I'm thinking it was a mistake.” He stood up, sighing heavily. “I'm sorry to waste your time.”

The guy was going to bail. This was a first for Sienna and she smiled, sympathetic to his obvious discomfort. She didn't know a thing about him, yet she was already sorry for him, wanted to make him feel better. Standing up, Sienna stepped across to stand in front of Matt, who was staring at the floor and avoiding her eyes.

“Matt, you've already paid for my time,” Sienna reached up and began to loosen his tie, “it's fine if you don't want sex, it's fine if you don't want to do anything at all. It's your dime.” She offered him a tiny smile. “At the very least, let me try and relax you a little bit, okay?”

“How are you gonna do that?” Matt asked gruffly.

“I'm a woman of many talents, Matt.” He was so tall, she had to reach on tiptoes to slip his jacket from his shoulders, and Sienna ran her fingers over his tense shoulders as she removed the jacket and draped it carefully across the back of the chair. “Why don't you lie on the bed, and I'll give you a massage?”

“A massage?”

Good grief, he sounded so suspicious. Typical cop; he probably viewed everyone with distrust, expecting every person he met to have some ulterior motive. “Yes, Matt. A massage.” Sienna drew Matt's tie from around his neck and dropped it onto the table, then slowly started to unbutton his white shirt. “I won't even ask you to get undressed, just slip this shirt off, and lie down on the bed.”

“Are you always this pushy?” He grumbled, but Sienna was pleased when he let her lead him towards the bed.

“Always.” Sienna pulled the covers back on the bed and stood back, watching as Matt dropped onto the mattress. Lying back against the pillows, he was stiff and unwieldy, his tall frame vibrating with tension. With a brief glance, she confirmed there was also a whole lot of tension happening in his groin, if the tenting in his grey trousers was any indication.

Slipping off her heels, Sienna clambered up onto the bed and smiled. “Front or back?”

“Excuse me?” He immediately sounded wary again and Sienna almost rolled her eyes.

“Would you like me to massage your front,” she trailed her fingers across his abdomen, watching the muscles tense, “or your back?”

“Shit, I don't know.”

Sienna sighed heavily. “Front, I think. It's already available.” Raising the hem of her skirt a little, Sienna slipped her leg over Matt's torso, settling down against his body and began massaging his shoulders.

≈≈◊◊≈◊◊≈≈

She was going to make him come. She wouldn't even have to touch him, and he was going to explode. She was leaning forward, her warm thighs wrapped around his torso, massaging his shoulders with a touch so delicate, his muscles were practically singing in rejoice. As she moved back and forth across his shoulders, he could feel her groin pressing against his stomach, the warmth burning a hole in his gut.

“You're very tense,” Sienna remarked, as she worked his shoulders. “If I'd known I'd be doing this, I would have brought along some massage oil.”

“It feels great,” he admitted gruffly, closing his eyes. As Sienna moved, her breasts lifted and pressed against the bodice of her dress and Matt was fighting the urge to reach out and run his fingers across her skin. Which he could do if he wanted to, because he was paying for this, he reminded himself ruefully.

“Lift your arm, please.” Sienna touched his arm and Matt did as she requested, allowing her access to his upper arm. Sienna began to massage his bicep carefully and he kept his eyes shut, hyperaware of the subtle aroma of jasmine that wafted towards his nose.

“You obviously work too hard, if your body gets so tense.”

“I'm a detective. It can be a stressful job,” Matt muttered.

“Paul says you both work long hours.”

Matt opened one eye, studying her distrustfully. “How well do you know Paul?” The idea of Paul having sex with this woman was insane; Paul had been happily married for over five years. He couldn't believe his partner was cheating on Mandy, but this woman seemed to know a lot about Paul.

“If you mean have I slept with him, the answer is no. He's a friend.”

“How'd you two meet?” His curiosity was piqued, he found himself wanting to know more about the sexy little nymph draped across his torso.

Was it his imagination, or did a shadow cross those stunning blue eyes when she answered? “He helped me get out of a bad situation.”

“What sort of situation?”

Sienna shrugged, her attention focused on a tight knot in his shoulder. “I make it a rule not to talk about my personal life with clients, Matt.”

“How many clients do you have?” Matt opened both eyes, watched her silently as she moved from his right arm to his left. She was good, her magic fingers were easing the strain from his body and he was feeling more relaxed than he had since he arrived. Other than his erection, which was straining against the zipper of his pants in its desperation to escape. He was gonna end up with a permanent imprint from the zipper, if he got any more turned on.

“Some. Mainly regulars.”

“You do this as a full time job?” He didn't know why, but the desire to know more about her was a burning flame, which wasn't easily quenched.

“I think that's another personal question, Matt.”

She wriggled further down on his torso until she was resting directly over his groin and Matt closed his eyes and battled to control himself. Holy mother of god, he was going to come in his pants right here, right now, if he didn't practice some serious self-control.

≈≈◊◊≈◊◊≈≈

Working the muscles in Matt's chest, Sienna focused on keeping her distance from this man. He was attractive – extremely attractive – and she was drawn to him, which went against every rule she lived by. Clients were clients, period. Don't form an attachment; don't think of them as anything but a meal ticket. Let them do what they want to do, lay back with your legs spread and think about something else.

His nipples were hard buds against his magnificently toned chest and Sienna licked her lips, resisting the urge to lean over and taste them. Jesus, what was wrong with her today? Beneath her lashes, Sienna studied his face and liked what she saw. His eyes were lovely, whisky brown in color and framed by long dark lashes. He was carrying a few lines around his eyes, and his chestnut brown hair was wavy, tinged with a little grey that didn't detract from his charm. He obviously looked after his body, Paul had told her Matt was in his early forties, but he had the body of a thirty year old. Finely honed muscle rippled beneath olive skin, and his impressive six-pack was to die for. He was built exactly the way Sienna loved – well muscled, but not overly so. Just perfect masculinity in its most beautiful form.

Sienna mentally shook herself. This was ridiculous, she didn't want to think of Matt Pendleton as anything other than a client, and yet the attraction towards him was clearly there.

She lowered her hands, kneading the skin along his ribcage and Matt groaned. “You're really good at this.”

“Thank you. You should consider having a massage more regularly. It's an excellent stress reliever.”

“Yeah, I probably should. Might loosen me up when my kids are driving me crazy.” Sienna saw his face flush and his body tightened beneath her fingers. “I'm a widower,” he added gruffly.

He said 'widower' as though he loathed the word and Sienna got the idea he was extremely uncomfortable with the subject matter. “How old are your children?” Sienna paused, gazing up at him.

His eyes registered surprise at her question, and Sienna thought he wasn't going to respond, but after a minute, he spoke. “Courtney is fifteen, going on twenty five. Harper is twelve, Brandon is nine, and Millie is six.”

Sienna raised an eyebrow. “Wow. You've certainly got your hands full.” She returned to the massage, gently unknotting the muscles in Matt's other side. “Who cares for them when you're working?” Detectives worked notoriously long hours, it must be tough for him to be a single parent and keep up with his workload.

Matt shrugged. “Sometimes my parents. Caroline's parents help too, and sometimes they go into before and after school care. I'm fortunate; I have a great group of friends who lend a hand when I need them.”

“How are the kids coping with the loss of their Mom?” It was glaringly obvious Matt wasn't coping well, and Sienna wondered if his grief was creating an impact on his children.

“They're doing okay.”

His answer was defensive and Sienna returned to her work. Matt was clearly uncomfortable with this subject. Finishing the massage, Sienna straightened up and offered Matt a little smile. “Feel better?”

“Yeah,” Matt agreed curtly. “It does.”

Sienna glanced at her watch, checking on the time before she slipped a leg between Matt's, pushing his thighs apart and settling on her heels between his knees. “You've still got some time.” Sienna glanced down at the tenting in Matt's trousers then returned her gaze to his. “Seems like you're suffering a little tension down here, too. Would you like me to fix that for you?” Without waiting for a response, she unbuckled Matt's belt and pushed it out of the way, then unbuttoned his trousers and slowly pulled the zipper down, giving him ample time to protest.

Matt watched her, his expression sober, his eyes swirling with emotion. When she pulled his trousers away and released his length from his boxers, she wrapped her small hand around his shaft tenderly. When she lowered her head and licked him, he jerked and groaned aloud.

She'd barely wrapped her mouth around the full length of him when he exploded in her mouth.

“Shit, I'm sorry,” he muttered.

Sienna licked her tongue delicately around her lips when she straightened up. “Don't be sorry, Matt. It's nothing to be sorry about.”

“I haven't— it's been a long time,” Matt said curtly.

“Matt, you don't need to be embarrassed, or sorry.” Sienna wrapped her fingers around his shaft again, which despite his intense orgasm was still firm. “Let me do it again, it'll be better the second time.”

Matt raised himself up on his elbows. “No! Thanks,” he finished lamely. He got to his feet and hurriedly adjusted himself, before he zipped up his pants.

“Is there anything else I can do for you?” Sienna asked quietly. She'd had some unsuccessful encounters in her time, but this one was taking the cake. The pain in Matt's eyes was tangible, mixed with a healthy dose of embarrassment, and a sliver of regret. He obviously wished he hadn't done this. He clearly had intense feelings for his deceased wife, and certainly didn't seem ready to move on yet.

“No. Thanks.” Matt slumped on the edge of the bed and refused to meet her gaze.

Sienna bit her lip, taking a deep breath before she scrambled awkwardly to the side of the bed and reached down for her shoes. Slipping them on, Sienna stood up and collected her purse from the table. “Goodbye, Matt.”

Leaving the room hurriedly, Sienna didn't understand why she was hurt because Matt didn't say goodbye.

Chapter Two

'Sienna' had been put to bed for the night. Coming out of the shower, Emily towel dried her hair, fluffing it out with her fingers. There was no need to do anything else, in fact, no point in doing anything else. Without the wig, which was part of her Sienna persona, her dark hair was naturally curly, wild and thick and framing her face in a halo of short ringlets. No taming in the world would make it anything, other than what it was. In direct contrast, 'Sienna' had long, straight blonde hair, courtesy of an excellent wig and it suited Emily for her alter ego to be different. It was a way of creating a buffer between the two worlds Emily occupied, delineating clearly between her work as an escort, and the real Emily.

Turning on the television, Emily sat down on her tiny couch and stared at the screen for a few minutes, although she wasn't really seeing the program. After the disastrous appointment this afternoon, she wanted nothing more than to watch a little TV, read a book, and maybe make a sandwich for dinner. It had been her worst encounter with a client since she'd started this gig two years ago.

Emily heard a sharp knock on the door and she opened it, knowing intuitively who would be on the other side. Sally Montague – Emily's landlady, friend, and employer – stood in the doorway, dressed for the club's eight o'clock opening. Emily appraised the older women silently, evaluating the tight leather outfit she wore, which barely skimmed enough of Sally's curvaceous bulk to make it halfway decent.

How was your appointment?” Sally questioned, breezing in and heading towards the coffee pot in Emily's tiny kitchen. “Was he okay?”

“He was nice,” Emily confessed, following Sally and taking mugs out of the cupboard over the counter.

“I sense a 'but',” Sally prompted, pouring coffee into the two mugs. She eyed Emily inquisitively, waiting patiently for a response.

Emily shrugged, still trying to understand her emotional reaction to Matt Pendleton. “He's a widower. I think it was his first time, since his wife died.”

“He wasn't ready?” Sally speculated. She was remarkably intuitive about the clients she selected for Emily, and the younger woman wondered how much Matt had revealed, when he'd made the appointment.

“Definitely not ready.”

Sally settled herself at Emily's small dining table, nursing the coffee mug between her hands. “Didn't get it up?”

Emily smiled. “Definitely didn't have a problem in that department. He was just… nervous, I guess. He paid for sex and ended up with fairly ordinary fellatio.”

“You didn't want to give him the blow job?” Sally arched one perfectly plucked eyebrow, studying Emily pointedly. “He didn't do anything nasty, did he?” Sally had provided Emily with a place to stay two years ago, at the request of her friend, Paul Meccelli. Since then, Sally had grown very close to the young woman and was fiercely protective of her. It was true of Sally in regards to all her employees. Whether they were escorts, club workers, or bar staff – Sally Montague was a protective mother hen. At fifty years old, she'd spent years building up her business and she'd seen every insidious aspect of the lifestyle she'd embraced as a naïve sixteen year old.

“No, not at all. He was nice. Really nice.” Emily hid a little smile – despite Sally's tough exterior and her strict approach to running Salacious, a club that catered to the BDSM crowd in Seattle – she could be remarkably sweet at times. Only Sally could use the word 'nasty', as if she were talking to a five-year-old who'd had her doll stolen by the school bully. “He was really nervous. Didn't really know whether he wanted to go through with it at all, I think. I offered to give him a massage, and he was aroused, so I gave him a blowjob. I'd hardly started before he came, and he was embarrassed.” Emily plucked at a stray cotton thread on her t-shirt, recalling the afternoon's events.

“You were attracted to him.” It didn't sound like an accusation, and when Emily glanced up, she could see sympathy in Sally's eyes.

“Yeah. I think I was.”

“Why not follow up on it?” Sally made the suggestion with enthusiasm, and Emily grinned – her friend was always playing the matchmaker. “I have his number on file.”

Emily shook her head. “He's not a Dom, Sally. I doubt he even knows about all this.” Emily waved her hand expansively around the room. It wasn't the small apartment they were sitting in that she was referring to; it was the club downstairs, the escort work, and Emily's own submissive nature, which made any attempt at following up with Matt Pendleton, completely impossible.

Sally snorted. “For Christ's sake, Em, he's a cop! I doubt there's anything going on in Seattle that he doesn't know about.”

“Knowing about it and understanding it are two completely different things and you know it,” Emily protested. “He's got four kids; this isn't the sort of thing a man like Matt Pendleton would get involved in.”

“You won't know if you don't give it a try,” Sally countered.

Emily drained her coffee mug and went to the counter to pour a refill, keeping her back to Sally. “I'm an escort, Sally. I sell my body for a living. Let's face it; a man in Matt Pendleton's situation would never consider a relationship with me – not in a million years. Even if he did, it wouldn't work. I'm a sub. I need a Dom.” Emily returned to the table, stirring her coffee.

For a long moment, Sally stared at Emily, and Emily returned her gaze, refusing to be intimidated. For a sub, Emily knew she was an enigma, capable of being so strong and yet harboring a desire to have a man dominate her in the bedroom. It was that desire which had brought Emily into Sally's life two years ago, after an encounter with a Dom who'd nearly killed her. Paul had arrived on the doorstep of Salacious with Emily, begging Sally to take her in and keep her safe for 'a while'. A while had turned into two years and created a strong and loving relationship between the two women. Tapping her perfectly manicured fingernails against the table, Sally considered Emily for another full minute before she spoke. “What do you want me to do, if he asks for you again?”

“Put him on the no contact list. I don't want to see him again.” Emily responded, after a long moment of thought.

Sally sighed, pushing up from the table to her feet. “Alright, then. Are you coming down to the club tonight?”

Emily shook her head, offering Sally a tiny smile. “No, I'll give it a miss.”

“You want me to send some food up?”

“Nah, I'll just make a sandwich. Maybe do some studying. I might get an early night.” In all honesty, Emily wasn't sure what she was going to do with her evening. Try to get Matt Pendleton out of her mind, where he'd been constantly installed for the past few hours. Even an hour of retail therapy hadn't shifted the man from her memory, and shopping usually helped calm Emily's mind when something was bothering her.

“Alright then. I'll leave you to it.” Sally blew Emily a kiss as she strolled out and Emily slumped back onto the couch, wondering if she'd made the right decision.

≈≈◊◊≈◊◊≈≈

Sally strode into her office, checking for messages before she headed downstairs. Friday night at Salacious was always hectic and this last half hour before opening was the last few minutes of calm before the crazy started.

Perched on the edge of her leather desk chair, Sally slipped on her glasses – turning fifty had done nothing for her ego – and started taking notes from the voice messages that needed action. Her attention was piqued by a familiar gravelly male voice. “This is Matt Pendleton. I'd like to see Sienna again. My number's 5552486.” This was followed by a couple of mundane messages from suppliers, then a further message which made Sally grin. “It's Matt Pendleton again. I'd like to speak to Sienna. You have the number.” By the time she'd listened to another couple of messages, Sally positively chuckled when she heard the same voice again, sounding impatient. “Matt Pendleton here. This must be the only goddamn escort service in the country, which doesn't answer calls on a Friday night. Please have Sienna call me. 5552486.”

It was a shame to put him on Emily's no contact list, but examining her conscience, Sally knew she had little choice. The list was one of Sally's own initiatives, a precautionary measure to give her girls the option of vetoing clients who made them feel uncomfortable, or who behaved badly. Sally had never reneged on the list – if one of her small group of escorts didn't want to service a client again, it was their decision, and Sally wouldn't interfere. In this case, Sally wondered if it was the right thing to do. Matt Pendleton hadn't done anything to make Emily unhappy – he'd made her uncomfortable. Not in a bad way, either, judging by the emotion Sally had seen in Emily's eyes.

Leaning back in the chair, Sally watched the monitors over her desk, which displayed a steady feed from the club downstairs. Already the bar was busy with customers and she really needed to get down there herself, to greet and mingle, yet the conundrum over Emily was playing on her mind. Sally was nothing, if not honest with herself, and she was forced to admit she didn't want to put this man on Emily's list. He might not be a Dom, but the interest in Emily's eyes was hard to ignore. Besides, he could learn to be a Dom – many of the people who visited Salacious for the first time hadn't discovered their true nature, not until they'd scrutinized their own sexuality – and Matt Pendleton might have the makings of a Dom. And he was a cop – most cops Sally had met were naturally dominant, whether they used that character trait in the bedroom or not.

Tapping the keyboard thoughtfully with her pen, Sally huffed out a sigh. Whether Sally thought it was a mistake or not, Emily had the right to choose which clients she would see, and she'd requested the man be put on her no contact list. Against her better judgment, Sally fulfilled Emily's request and made the note on her records. Matt Pendleton wouldn't be allowed to see Sienna again, and Sally picked up the phone to advise him of the decision and appease him with the offer of someone else.

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Matt slammed his cell phone down onto the kitchen bench, mightily pissed off with the call he'd just received. For fuck's sake! The woman had been pleasant and polite, but extremely determined. Sienna wouldn't be available to him in the future and that just pissed him off to the max. He was welcome to arrange an appointment with one of the other escorts, blah, blah, blah.

He didn't want to see anybody else. He wanted to see Sienna. There was no reason for the urgency of his desire, other than an erection that refused to be tamed. Arriving home after the fiasco in the hotel, Matt had initially blown off any idea of seeing her again. His parents were babysitting the kids through until Sunday night; he should take off for a couple of days, clear his head. Get a handle on where his life was headed. Between work and the kids, there didn't seem to be a minute left over for him, and it was crushing. The strain of working homicide was telling on him, the stress in turn was affecting the kids. The long hours, the depressing work, the failure of the court system to mete out justice was getting him down and the situation was becoming impossible as a single parent. The kids all had issues stemming from their mother's death, and Matt didn't know how to handle it, what to do with them. Caroline had been the glue that held the family together, without her – it had all gone to hell.

The empty house taunted him, the ghost of Caroline an endless presence when the kids weren't here. It was less painful when they were home and the house was filled with noise – with them gone, the house he and Caroline had built when they first married was an empty shell, a prison full of painful memories. Since he'd arrived home from the hotel, Matt hadn't even been into the living room, instead pacing around in the kitchen as though he were a stranger in his own home. More than once since Caroline's death, he'd considered selling up and moving, but the kids were happy here, their schools were close and it was a safe suburb to live in. His neighbors were pleasant, the kids had their friends nearby, and he knew his already fragile relationship with Courtney would be destroyed if he suggested moving.

He should probably just call his Mom, go and collect the kids and bring them home. The idea of being alone until Sunday night was almost unbearable. He could phone some of his friends, make some plans, but he didn't relish the thought of being the third wheel in whatever they did. Another problem with being a widower – well-meaning friends invited him to dinner parties, where he was the odd man out, or they asked him to parties where he was constantly being pushed towards a single woman they knew who was 'perfect' for him. Matt cringed. Nope, definitely not.

What he really wanted to do was see Sienna again. Despite the knowledge she was a hooker, Matt found he wanted to see her, talk to her again. He found himself fascinated by the beautiful young woman, wanted to know more about her. He didn't want another trashy meeting with Sienna in a hotel room.

He wanted to take her on a date.

Matt chewed on his lip thoughtfully and pulled a beer from the refrigerator. He must be out of his damned mind – she was a prostitute, and he was a cop. He didn't know the first thing about her, other than the fact that she had a screaming hot body and the face of an angel.

Working on a hunch, Matt picked up his cell phone and dialed a familiar number, waiting impatiently as it began to ring.

Paul Meccelli answered on the third ring. “Hey buddy. No doubt you're phoning to thank me for the advice, and the pearls of wisdom.”

“I want her number.”

“You've got the number.”

Matt bit his lip, to stop from yelling at his partner. “Not the number for her agency. I want a number I can contact her on directly.”

“No can do, partner.” Paul's voice was cheerful, but Matt didn't miss the edge of caution in Paul's voice, which confirmed what he'd suspected. Paul did have a number for Sienna, which he didn't intend to give to Matt.

“Give me the number, Paul. Please.”

“I can't, Matt. You'll have to phone on the business line.”

“She won't take my calls.”

Paul sounded incredulous when he responded. Incredulous and more than a little bit pissed. “What did you do to her?” he demanded.

“Nothing!”

“You must have done something, if she's put you on the no contact list.”

“The what? What the hell is a no contact list?”

Paul sighed. “Sally keeps her girls safe, and more importantly, gives them a choice on who they accept as clients. If any of the girls don't like a client, or feel uncomfortable, they can ask Sally to put the client on their no contact list. The girls won't be asked to escort that client again.”

“What the hell? I didn't do anything to her.”

“Nothing at all?” Paul questioned innocently.

“It's none of your damn business, Meccelli,” Matt growled.

“It is, if you hurt her.”

“What's fucking wrong with you? I didn't hurt her! All of a sudden I'm a goddamn pariah, and the woman who runs the joint says I have to choose someone else.”

“Ah.”

Matt raked his fingers through his hair in frustration. “Ah? Ah, what?”

“You're off the hook, buddy. If you'd hurt her, Sally would have banned you from hiring any of the escorts. Obviously it's a decision Sienna has made herself, for her own reasons.”

“Well, I want to know what they are. Give me the number, Paul,” Matt demanded.

“I can't. It would be an invasion of her privacy.”

“I want to see her,” Matt insisted, not caring if he sounded like a fucking idiot. “I have to see her, Paul.”

There was silence at the other end of the line for a few seconds and Matt twisted the beer bottle between his fingers impatiently, desperate for his partner to understand how important this was, to comprehend how badly Matt needed the number. He grimaced – he needed the number badly, and he had no idea why. What was so pressing about seeing a woman with whom he'd spent one disastrous afternoon? What the hell was wrong with him? Maybe he did need to see a shrink.

“Alright, Matt. You win; I'll give you her cell number. You need to promise me though, that you're not going to hurt her.”

“You shouldn't have to ask me that.”

“Yeah, I do have to ask. She's a nice woman, Matt. I don't know what you're thinking, hell; I haven't had a clue what you've been thinking since Caroline died. I gave you Sienna's business number, because I thought she could help you through a tough time – but if anything, she's more fragile than you are. You'd better be damned sure you're not going to do anything that could hurt her. If you do, I'll be the one busting your balls.”

“Duly noted,” Matt said gruffly. “Now give me the damn number.”

Chapter Three

She picked up the phone on the fourth ring and answered hesitantly, her soft voice cautious. “Hello?”

“Sienna?”

“Who is this?” Suspicion was evident in her tone, and Matt guessed she didn't like receiving calls from strangers.

“Matt Pendleton.”

A long pause followed his announcement. “How did you get this number?”

Honesty seemed like his best option. “Your boss rang, told me you wouldn't see me again. I got in touch with Paul Meccelli and bullied him, until he gave me your private number.”

“You shouldn't have done that.”

“Yeah, I know. I'm an asshole; I shouldn't have asked him.” Matt paused, inhaling sharply. “I want to see you again.”

There was another long silence on the other end of the line and Matt held his breath, waiting for her response.

“I don't think it's a good idea.”

“Why did you have me put on your no contact list? Did I do something to hurt your feelings?” he demanded quietly.

“No.”

“Then why? Why did you refuse to see me again?”

“I didn't expect you would want to see me, after our appointment this afternoon,” she responded.

“I do,” Matt stated firmly. “I want to see you again, Sienna.” He didn't know why he was so determined, but he was, and Matt acknowledged to himself that seeing her again was rating far more importantly in his life than it should.

“Alright,” she said, after another brief silence. “I'll have you taken off the list and you can make another appointment—”

“I don't want to make an appointment,” Matt announced. “What are you doing now? Have you eaten dinner?”

“Matt, that isn't how this works.” Emily sounded off-balance, and Matt decided to push the advantage while he had it.

“Would you have dinner with me? I know a great little place; it's relaxed, low key. You don't even have to dress up, it's very casual.”

“That sounds more like a date, than an appointment.”

“Yeah. It does.” Relief flooded through his chest. She wasn't refusing the suggestion outright, which provided him with a glimmer of hope. He decided to press the advantage. “Have dinner with me, Sienna.”

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She should say no. Her mind was firmly announcing the answer should be no, even as her heart was pressing for an affirmative response. There were a multitude of reasons for saying no; she knew she should politely refuse what could only end up being a disastrous mistake. He was a client, and she was an escort. He was a cop with a family; she was a submissive who needed a Dom. He couldn't possibly understand her lifestyle choices – and he hadn't recovered from the death of his wife. As much as Emily wanted to say yes, she knew once he found out everything about her, Matt would run for the hills, would no doubt find her lifestyle abhorrent. Despite every argument, when she responded the answer she gave him surprised her. “Alright.”

“Great, I'll pick you up. What's the address?”

Oh, hell. She should tell Matt she'd meet him at the restaurant, but even as the thought crossed her mind, Emily decided if she was going to pursue this craziness, she should lay it all on the line. “Do you know Salacious?”

“That kink joint downtown?”

Emily smiled to herself when she heard the surprise in his voice. “Yeah. That kink joint.”

“Uh, yeah. I do.”

“Meet me out front. How long will it take you to get here?”

Matt did some rough mental calculations. “Twenty minutes.”

“Alright. I'll see you then.” Emily disconnected the call and stood with her cell phone clutched in her hand. She couldn't stop the gleeful little smile that pasted itself on her lips, or ignore the little skip of joy her heart made. Despite her doubts, she was tickled that Matt wanted to see her again.

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Salacious was located at the northern end of the city, an old warehouse converted into what was possibly the most discreet club in Seattle. Of course, the Seattle Police Department knew about it, but it was the one club that never caused any headaches to Seattle's finest. They were never called in to break up fights, deal with drunks – the place stuck to the rules with military precision and never caused an ounce of trouble. Given the type of club it was, Matt could understand their desire to keep under the radar. He'd heard all sorts of rumors about what the club members got up to, and as he pulled up outside the building, he wondered for the hundredth time why Sienna was here.

The street Salacious was situated on had once been part of a large Seattle industrial area, long ago deserted by enterprise. From what Matt had heard, the owner of Salacious had brought the warehouse the club was situated in, and then proceeded to purchase the land around the warehouse, affording Salacious a sizeable amount of privacy for its patrons. The streets around the club had gradually been modernized with new apartments, up-market condominiums, and popular restaurants – but Salacious had remained. A small bronze sign displaying the name of the club hung on the red brick wall facing the street, illuminated by a lone spotlight. The street outside the building was packed with cars, but there was no one around, and Matt discovered there wasn't a visible entrance where he'd pulled up. Well, hell – where was the entrance? Given the nature of the club, he assumed it was probably off the street; people would want privacy when they arrived. He was about to pull away from the curb when two figures turned the corner of the building and approached his truck. The man was tall and muscular, solidly built and wearing black jeans and a t-shirt with 'Salacious' printed in bold red lettering across the tightly stretched material. The girl was petite and as they drew closer to the truck, Matt recognized her. He hurriedly opened the door and stepped out. “Hi.”

Sienna smiled nervously, but the gorilla who was accompanying her didn't alter his severe expression. Sienna glanced up at the man standing beside her, touching his arm. “This is Matt, Bud. I'll be fine now, thank you.”

The gorilla looked down at Sienna and offered her a brotherly smile, and then his gaze darted back to Matt, as if he suspected Matt was an insect that needed crushing. “You need anything, you call me, darlin'.”

“I will.”

Matt had walked around the car and he opened the passenger door for Sienna, eyeing her hair with interest. “I'll take care of her.” He couldn't figure out for the life of him why he felt the need to reassure Gorilla Guy.

“You'd better.” Gorilla Guy grunted the response and headed back towards the corner of the club. Sienna stepped up into the cab of the truck, eyeing the interior with interest.

Matt settled back into the driver's seat and clipped his seatbelt, turning to Sienna. She looked tiny in his truck, swamped by the size of the seat and he smiled. “Thanks for agreeing.”

“Thanks for asking.”

Matt motioned towards her hair. “Is that your real hair?”

She touched it self-consciously. “Yeah.”

“This afternoon it was a wig?”

She licked her lips, nibbling the inside of her cheek. “Yeah. And as this is a date, and not an appointment, you should probably know my name isn't Sienna.”

“I see.” Matt twisted a little more in the seat, mesmerized by the motion of her tongue and the little damp spot she'd left on her lower lip. He fought against the urge to lean across and kiss it. “What is your name?”

“Emily.”

Matt smiled warmly. “Emily. That's a real pretty name.” Tugging his rampaging hormones back under control, he pulled the truck away from the curb and eased into the street. “I like it better than Sienna. That sounded like an actress's name.”

“I guess that's what I am, when I'm with a client.” Emily settled back in the seat, her gaze fixed on the windscreen.