Knight's Mistress
Page 9
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His arrogance in assuming she was for sale drove her crazy. Obviously she wasn’t, but maybe she would be if she indulged in one of guilty-pleasure gift dresses. She touched the rich, silky black fabric, admired the elegant lines of the dress, ran her finger down the V-neck that was modest, yet tastefully sexy. Damn – so what would it be – self-respect, boundaries or no boundaries, the pursuit of extraordinary possibilities or …
Another moment of indecision, another sigh. Oh, what the hell, wearing the dress didn’t necessarily mean she’d sleep with him. She had all evening to decide.
Then she noticed the shoes in the bottom of the wardrobe. Ohmygod. Black, fuck-me shoes with sparkly stuff on the toes. Could any woman turn down shoes like that?
But as she lifted the dress from the wardrobe, her complacency gave way to a hissed expletive. Along with a few more pithy observations on self-willed men. A magnificent string of pearls was looped around the pink satin hanger and no way they came from Wal-Mart.
Was expensive jewellery a deal-breaker?
If she accepted this entire outrageously pricey gift would she regret it later? Or could she consider this outfit a bonus? Would that make her less of a … She sighed. Even with a mountain of rationalization, there was no way around the fact that she’d be one of Dominic Knight’s rentable-for-an-evening females.
She really needed her roommate Meg here to talk her through this sexual dilemma. She quickly calculated the time back in the States, in Montana particularly where Meg was working on a dinosaur dig. Noon. Could she answer her phone at work?
First ring. ‘How’s the dig going?’ she politely asked because she didn’t know where Meg was and she had sex questions to ask.
‘It’s winter here. I’m just doing cataloguing. I told you.’
Kate knew as much about dinosaurs as Meg knew about accounting. ‘Sorry, I forgot. Are you alone?’
‘Sorta. Are you? I was hoping you’d be in bed with a handsome billionaire by now.’ Kate had texted the basics about her job before she left. Billionaires in bed had not been mentioned. But Meg had an active sex life and an even more active imagination.
‘Jeez, if you’re not alone, don’t use my name.’
‘Just a new friend of mine. Don’t worry.’ Meg giggled, whispered, ‘Food first.’
‘Are you in bed with someone?’
‘Yeah, but I can talk. Pepperoni OK? And a Coke,’ she said off the phone. ‘There, I’m back on. He’s ordering us lunch.’
‘He? You don’t know his name?’
‘I met him last night in the cutest bar. All Westerny, although everything is out here. I think his name is – I’m not sure. We haven’t exchanged that much information yet. But otherwise, he’s real full disclosure, if you know what I mean. Really just great. He’s a student, I think, and I know he rides horses. So how’s Amsterdam? And I’m just teasing about the billionaire. Have you met anyone interesting otherwise? One of these days you’re going to actually meet a man you want to jump. And not someone like Andrew or Michael who are half-ass friends you just did to be nice.’
‘Can I talk now?’ Kate was busting to reveal her news and she was afraid Meg would go off on a tangent like she often did about Kate’s failure to understand that sex was purely entertainment.
‘Sorry. Just a minute. What’s your name?’ Meg quietly asked, then said in a normal tone, ‘Kate meet Luke. Luke says hi. And he doesn’t care about our conversation because he’s—hey, hey … not yet – I’m on the phone.’
‘Never mind,’ Kate said, because she wasn’t going to discuss her sex problem with some guy listening in. ‘I’ll catch you later. Have—’
‘Oh, ohhh, God …’
The phone went dead and Kate’s question was more or less answered.
Go for it.
She picked up the dress again.
As if she needed further encouragement, the door suddenly opened and a tall, slender, platinum-blond beauty walked in. ‘Let me help you with that,’ she said, matter-of-factly. ‘I’m Greta. The dress is structured,’ she added, taking it from Kate and slipping it off the hanger. ‘You don’t need a bra. Or panties. It’s fully lined.’ Then she stood there waiting for Kate to take off her robe.
After a small pause, during which Greta’s brows lifted faintly, Kate timidly smiled and discarded her robe. The cool blond slipped the dress over her head, zipped up the back, smoothed the silk over Kate’s hips, said nice things about Kate’s breasts, spoke so casually about the evening ahead, those waiting downstairs, her design firm, that Kate stopped being embarrassed.
‘Dominic’s wife helped me start my business,’ she explained. ‘Here, let me clasp those pearls for you. Julia and I became great friends.’ She slid the pearls around Kate’s neck. ‘So Dominic likes seeing my clothes out in the world.’
There was no sane reason to be so pleased at the revelation that Dominic Knight’s wife had been a friend of Greta’s. It didn’t necessarily negate the possibility that he and Greta had become more than friends later. But she couldn’t help it. It made her happy.
When it shouldn’t matter.
When living in la-la land was for fantasy fans.
When she was going home tomorrow.
‘I’ll put your hair up.’
Jerked back to reality, Kate tried to stop her; she didn’t like pins in her hair. But she might as well have saved her breath. Had everyone at Knight Enterprises drunk the same don’t-fuck-with-me Kool-Aid, she wondered as Greta managed to tame her curls into a semblance of sophistication.
Another moment of indecision, another sigh. Oh, what the hell, wearing the dress didn’t necessarily mean she’d sleep with him. She had all evening to decide.
Then she noticed the shoes in the bottom of the wardrobe. Ohmygod. Black, fuck-me shoes with sparkly stuff on the toes. Could any woman turn down shoes like that?
But as she lifted the dress from the wardrobe, her complacency gave way to a hissed expletive. Along with a few more pithy observations on self-willed men. A magnificent string of pearls was looped around the pink satin hanger and no way they came from Wal-Mart.
Was expensive jewellery a deal-breaker?
If she accepted this entire outrageously pricey gift would she regret it later? Or could she consider this outfit a bonus? Would that make her less of a … She sighed. Even with a mountain of rationalization, there was no way around the fact that she’d be one of Dominic Knight’s rentable-for-an-evening females.
She really needed her roommate Meg here to talk her through this sexual dilemma. She quickly calculated the time back in the States, in Montana particularly where Meg was working on a dinosaur dig. Noon. Could she answer her phone at work?
First ring. ‘How’s the dig going?’ she politely asked because she didn’t know where Meg was and she had sex questions to ask.
‘It’s winter here. I’m just doing cataloguing. I told you.’
Kate knew as much about dinosaurs as Meg knew about accounting. ‘Sorry, I forgot. Are you alone?’
‘Sorta. Are you? I was hoping you’d be in bed with a handsome billionaire by now.’ Kate had texted the basics about her job before she left. Billionaires in bed had not been mentioned. But Meg had an active sex life and an even more active imagination.
‘Jeez, if you’re not alone, don’t use my name.’
‘Just a new friend of mine. Don’t worry.’ Meg giggled, whispered, ‘Food first.’
‘Are you in bed with someone?’
‘Yeah, but I can talk. Pepperoni OK? And a Coke,’ she said off the phone. ‘There, I’m back on. He’s ordering us lunch.’
‘He? You don’t know his name?’
‘I met him last night in the cutest bar. All Westerny, although everything is out here. I think his name is – I’m not sure. We haven’t exchanged that much information yet. But otherwise, he’s real full disclosure, if you know what I mean. Really just great. He’s a student, I think, and I know he rides horses. So how’s Amsterdam? And I’m just teasing about the billionaire. Have you met anyone interesting otherwise? One of these days you’re going to actually meet a man you want to jump. And not someone like Andrew or Michael who are half-ass friends you just did to be nice.’
‘Can I talk now?’ Kate was busting to reveal her news and she was afraid Meg would go off on a tangent like she often did about Kate’s failure to understand that sex was purely entertainment.
‘Sorry. Just a minute. What’s your name?’ Meg quietly asked, then said in a normal tone, ‘Kate meet Luke. Luke says hi. And he doesn’t care about our conversation because he’s—hey, hey … not yet – I’m on the phone.’
‘Never mind,’ Kate said, because she wasn’t going to discuss her sex problem with some guy listening in. ‘I’ll catch you later. Have—’
‘Oh, ohhh, God …’
The phone went dead and Kate’s question was more or less answered.
Go for it.
She picked up the dress again.
As if she needed further encouragement, the door suddenly opened and a tall, slender, platinum-blond beauty walked in. ‘Let me help you with that,’ she said, matter-of-factly. ‘I’m Greta. The dress is structured,’ she added, taking it from Kate and slipping it off the hanger. ‘You don’t need a bra. Or panties. It’s fully lined.’ Then she stood there waiting for Kate to take off her robe.
After a small pause, during which Greta’s brows lifted faintly, Kate timidly smiled and discarded her robe. The cool blond slipped the dress over her head, zipped up the back, smoothed the silk over Kate’s hips, said nice things about Kate’s breasts, spoke so casually about the evening ahead, those waiting downstairs, her design firm, that Kate stopped being embarrassed.
‘Dominic’s wife helped me start my business,’ she explained. ‘Here, let me clasp those pearls for you. Julia and I became great friends.’ She slid the pearls around Kate’s neck. ‘So Dominic likes seeing my clothes out in the world.’
There was no sane reason to be so pleased at the revelation that Dominic Knight’s wife had been a friend of Greta’s. It didn’t necessarily negate the possibility that he and Greta had become more than friends later. But she couldn’t help it. It made her happy.
When it shouldn’t matter.
When living in la-la land was for fantasy fans.
When she was going home tomorrow.
‘I’ll put your hair up.’
Jerked back to reality, Kate tried to stop her; she didn’t like pins in her hair. But she might as well have saved her breath. Had everyone at Knight Enterprises drunk the same don’t-fuck-with-me Kool-Aid, she wondered as Greta managed to tame her curls into a semblance of sophistication.
