My Prerogative Read online

  25

  The nightclub was open, but empty, and I was just about done setting up the bar when Samair came down the stairs from Val’s office. Instead of going through the back and heading home, she stopped at the end of the bar.

  “Woo hooo!” she hooted. “Someone got lucky.”

  I grinned and didn’t bother to deny it. “Can I get you a drink?”

  “Tequila and seven, please.” She practically bounced on her toes as I poured her drink. “Well, aren’t you going to share the details?”

  Some people might be offended by that question coming from someone who would usually be classified only as a casual friend. But Samair wasn’t being facetious, and I needed to tell someone what was going on since Dee still hadn’t called me back. So, I spilled the whole story to her as other staff members wandered into the club to start their shifts.

  “So you met this guy because he was spying on you?”

  “Yeah, sort of.” I rushed to wipe the skeptical look from her face. “I know it sounds creepy, but it wasn’t. There were times when I felt like someone might be watching me, but I dismissed it as my imagination. Then when I did catch sight of him, I realized, first, that I was relieved I wasn’t going crazy. And second, the whole vibe wasn’t creepy. It was a bit of a turn-on actually.”

  “So you’re not worried he’s a psycho stalker?”

  “No. He’s an artist.”

  Samair waved her hand blithely. “Same thing.”

  We laughed and I shook my head. “No, it makes a weird sort of sense because most artists are slightly reclusive, and people watchers at the same time. Right?”

  And like Max had said, people come and go in life as you need them. I might’ve forgotten it, but I did believe that. Too many odd coincidences had led me to where I was in life to not believe it.

  Meeting Jesse in Dublin had been wonderful. He’d shown me that I was capable of feeling more than sexual attraction for a man. I obviously hadn’t been ready for more than that then, but it was nice to know I was capable of it.

  Val had certainly entered my life at a time I needed him. I’d given up hope of ever finding a place where I fit, a place where I could be loud and flirtatious and cocky and confident and be praised for it. Risqué had become a second home to me, and that I didn’t always feel that way anymore was heartbreaking.

  And it hit me. The darkness hadn’t blindsided me the night before. I’d just managed to ignore the way it had been creeping in on me lately because I hadn’t wanted to admit how alone I’d truly felt. But the night before, when I’d had nothing better to do on a Friday night than cover a shift for another bartender, I’d watched all the shit that went on in the club, and felt left out.

  I was there, I was a key part of Val’s staff, but I was older than the others, and that made me different to them. I could joke and laugh and flirt with them all, and it went both ways, but I wasn’t part of them. I didn’t belong anymore.

  I remembered all the times they planned birthday outings, or get-togethers after work in front of me, but never invited me to join in. Fuck, I’d probably have said no, but it would’ve been nice to be asked. It was stupid. To be hurt or feel left out by people I didn’t even really want to hang out with.

  But as I watched Samair sip her drink and nod hello to DJ Rob, I acknowledged it wasn’t so much the staff at Risqué . . . it was everyone.

  It was knowing that when Dee and I got together it was because I called her. It was knowing that my mother bragged about my cousin’s baby to her friends instead of her daughter’s good work ethic or world travels. It was the fact that my younger, more conservative sister was getting married while I wondered if I was even capable of finding acceptance for all of me.

  Independence and strength were instilled in me from birth, and I valued them. I liked being able to take care of myself. But that didn’t mean I always wanted to, and deep down, I couldn’t help but think that made me weak. And that made me angry.

  Samair took a sip from her drink and smiled at me. “So, what’s his name?”

  “Harlan Shaw.” I remembered the fingerprint bruises on my hips and the teeth marks on my shoulder this morning. Harlan had taken care of me but good, and he hadn’t made me feel weak at all.

  “Have you seen any of his artwork? Been to his place? What else do you know about him?”

  I rolled my eyes. “C’mon Samair, since when am I not a good judge of character? Besides that, I like things a little freaky from time to time.”

  That might’ve been an understatement, but it was one I could live with. It was better than saying, “Sometimes I crave a bit of pain and he knows just how to give it to me.”

  I took a sip from my own drink and pinned Samair with my gaze. “Besides, you can’t tell me that you and Val don’t get more adventurous than most . . . I’ve caught you a time or two. Remember?”

  The pretty blonde blushed, but she couldn’t hide the smile that crept across her lips. “Val is definitely not what I’d call traditional.”

  “And aren’t you glad for it?”

  She nodded and we both laughed. “See, unconventional is not always bad.”

  “One could never mistake you for conventional, Kelsey,” Samair said and waved her hand at my black latex bra, fishnet shirt, and short mini. “Speaking of conventional, Ariel was in for a fitting today.”

  We talked about Ariel’s dress, and my plans for the party, until Joey arrived and joined Samair at the bar. The two women had known each other for years and were super close, but I wasn’t excluded from the conversation at all.

  Just the opposite, in fact. And when talk turned to sex once more, as the three of us graded the guys that walked around the club like they were modeling just for us, I decided it was time I made more of an effort to find some real friends. Friends like them.

  The night went by super fast, and I was full of positive energy when I got home. As I parked my car in the back lot I wished I could just go over to Harlan’s. You’d think getting fucked so much in the last twenty-four hours would make me want to sleep, but it didn’t.

  I wanted more. But not just more sex, more Harlan.

  With a drink in one hand and a book I couldn’t get into in the other, it occurred to me that he was fast becoming an addiction.

  The phone rang just after 4:00 a.m. and I smiled.

  Just roll with it, Kelsey, I told myself. Be casual, and let things happen.

  It was a bit weird, to sit on my balcony in the dark, and look at the stars and talk to a man I barely knew. Yet, we did know each other. We might not have had a traditional start, but that was probably a good thing. Traditional wasn’t my strong suit.

  Besides, having him be someone who didn’t know Kelsey the bartender, or Kelsey the sister, or even Kelsey the friend, was just as freeing as meeting strangers in foreign countries.

  He knew the real me. No, that’s not it. I’m always real, I just don’t always show all of myself to people. With Harlan, I felt like I didn’t have to hide any of myself. To him I was the naughty girl next door, and that was it.

  Which was just what I wanted.

  When the sun started to peek over the horizon I groaned. “I shouldn’t even go to bed, I should just stay up and get myself to the freakin’ mall as soon as it opens.”

  “The mall?” His rusty chuckle echoed over the phone line, warming me. “Somehow I never figured you for a shopping queen.”

  I mentioned my frustration at finding a present for my sister and he suggested some art. “You said you love art, and that they’re not living together yet, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “So, she’s going to want to bring something new into the house with her when she moves in. It doesn’t matter how nice his place is, she’ll want something that is new, and hers. Or theirs, and not just his.”

  I laughed. “Sort of like marking her territory, huh?”

  “Exactly.”

  Strangely, I could totally see Ariel feeling that way. “It’s a grea
t idea. Thank you.”

  “I know just the place you should shop at. What do you say you head to bed and catch a few hours’ sleep and I’ll pick you up at noon?”

  “Hmmm.” I thought about it. I was still full of energy. “I think the better plan would be to go have some breakfast, fuel up, and hit the stores before they get busy.”

  “You need to get some sleep. You just don’t know it.”

  “Shit, I’m ready now.”

  “Yeah?” He laughed. “Well I need a shower and a nap, so I’ll see you in a couple of hours.”

  He hung up and I had to shake off the urge to go climb into the shower with him.

  26

  Harlan showed up at my door and I was ready to go, dressed in a frayed denim miniskirt, a black T-shirt, and black biker boots that laced all the way up my calves. I’d let my hair hang long and straight down my back and my only makeup was mascara and some harlot red lipstick.

  A cross between Betty Boop and Bettie Page, I was feeling sexy and confident. And the appreciation in Harlan’s eyes when I opened the door told me I looked good.

  His lips tilted up in one corner when he saw the small silver handcuff decal in the center of my chest, but he didn’t say anything. So I didn’t bother to show him the back. He’d see it soon enough.

  “Ready?” he asked.

  “Definitely,” I said as I closed up my apartment. “If I don’t find a gift today I’m going to get them the eighty-dollar toaster.”

  “We’ll find them something. Tell me about your sister and her fiancé.”

  There was a cab waiting in front of the apartment and Harlan directed me to it with a firm hand at the small of my back.

  “I can drive us,” I said as we got closer to it. “We don’t need to take a cab.”

  “Parking on a Sunday is going to be a pain in the ass. Let’s stick with the cab.”

  He held open the back door, and slid in after me, directing the cabbie to Granville Island. I almost smacked myself in the forehead. An old abandoned industrial park near downtown that had been renovated and remade into a commercial park and artist community—it was full of galleries, workshops, pubs, and restaurants.

  Better than any mall, Granville Island was the perfect place to look for a unique, one-of-a-kind gift.

  After directing the cabby, Harlan leaned back in the seat, close enough that his leg rubbed against mine, and I grinned.

  “Oh, now I see the real benefits to a cab,” I said and laid my hand on his thigh. Hard muscle flexed beneath my hand and my hormones did a little dance.

  Harlan covered my hand with his and winked. “Tell me about your sister and her fiancé,” he said again.

  If he hadn’t kept my hand on his thigh, I would’ve felt rebuffed, but the gleam in his eye and the way his hand tightened on mine said he was just as aware of the physical possibilities as I was.

  I batted my eyelashes and told him about Ariel and Miles. “Ariel’s the complete opposite of me. Even though she’s the younger sister, she’s definitely the more responsible of the two of us. She was a straight A student, went to college right out of high school and got her accountants certification, or whatever it is, and has been doing the same work ever since. She works for herself, which is how she met Miles. She’s the bookkeeper for his bookstore. Their wedding date is a year to the day of their first date. That draw a good picture?”

  “Your apartment building went condo right?”

  Huh? “Yeah, the owner sold off half of the units a few years ago. The other half he and his partner still own, and rent out, but it’s run as a condo with a board and all that. Why?”

  “You own yours, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you work a full-time job and pay your own way?”

  Confusion reigned. “Yes, what are you getting at?”

  He turned his head, his blue eyes pinning me to the spot. “Then I don’t want to hear you imply that your sister, or anyone else, is better or more responsible than you simply because they are more straitlaced. You own your home, pay your own way, and do your own thing. That’s not something everyone can say.”

  Stunned, I stared at him.

  He leaned close and spoke clearly. “And I really like the way you do your own thing.”

  His lips pressed down on mine and fireworks sparked deep inside me. I turned toward him, curled my hands into his shirt, and tried to pull him closer only to have him pull back.

  “Such an enchantingly eager girl you are.” His blue eyes gleamed and his hand ran up my bare thigh, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. “You don’t have to work tonight, do you?”

  Unable to force words past the lump of desire lodged in my throat, I simply shook my head.

  “That’s why you needed to sleep this morning, because I’m not going to give you any rest tonight.”

  Once there, Harlan acted as guide. A very mellow and easy-going type of guide, but there was no doubt he knew what he was talking about, or that he was in charge.

  We were dropped off at one end of Railspur Alley and we walked the whole street, going in and out of almost every gallery and store. He pointed out different items to me, using anything as an excuse to brush against me. The constant rub of his body against mine, his hand against my ass, his arm across my chest, his breath feathering across my cheek as he explained something—it was a slow, sensual torture that had my sex throbbing and my mind going completely blank.

  When we walked into the ceramics store I found way too many things I wanted for myself. Yet, nothing I thought Ariel would connect with.

  “Do you have something for sale in any of these stores?” I asked.

  He shook his head. “Not right now, no. I had an exhibit up six months ago, and my agent’s trying to get another one up soon, but I haven’t finished the collection I’m working on yet.”

  “Collection?”

  “Since I don’t have a gallery of my own or rent space in one, I freelance. I’ll do a show with a full collection of themed work, and if it doesn’t sell in that time then we’ll shop the pieces around to galleries as individuals.”

  “Hmm.” It made sense. Sort of. I didn’t really care how it all worked. I just wondered when I’d get to see some of his stuff.

  As if reading my mind he nudged me toward a different display. “If you’re a good girl, I’ll show you what I’m working on later.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.”

  “A good girl?” I asked, arching an eyebrow at him.

  He laughed and bumped against me playfully. “My definition of good isn’t what you would call typical.”

  “Are you going to share your definition with me?”

  The corner of his mouth lifted and his eyes gleamed, but he remained silent as we walked through the big artists co-op building.

  A few minutes later he led me to the back corner display.

  “As much as I’d love for you to get an oil painting for them, because I think everyone should buy oil paintings,” he said, “from what you’ve said about your sister and her fiancé, I think a sculpture would be something they’d enjoy more. Something like this maybe?”

  “Ohh,” I said. It was all I could say. There were half a dozen pieces in the display, and each one was beautiful and functional. Bowls of all sizes, all in shimmering multicolored glass. The colors blended, swirling and sparkling together in a way that made them almost seem alive. “These are perfect.”

  A salesman came over and spoke to Harlan while I examined the bowls. They were exactly something Ariel would love. Pretty, and useful. She could put it in the entranceway as a place to drop keys and mail, or in the center of a dining table. Even empty the bowl itself was enough to draw attention.

  It occurred to me that Miles might not like them, but then, from what I knew of Miles, if Ariel loved it, he’d let her put it anywhere she wanted.

  Now, to decide on only one.

  Glancing at the price made that choice easier. I picked a medium-sized one wit
h green and gold over a black base and showed it to Harlan. “This one.”

  When Harlan tried to pay I glared at him so hard I’m sure he felt flames lick at his skin. I did let him arrange to have the bowl delivered to my place though.

  “What now?” I asked when we exited the store.

  “One store in particular I want to stop in, then we can do whatever you want.” He wrapped my hand in his and led me to a shop. When we entered and I saw colorful silks everywhere, I was a little surprised. I’d expected something more . . . manly.

  Harlan walked slowly and I trailed after him, reaching out to touch every now and then. Pillows, clothing, bags and bolts . . . everything was silk.

  We reached a small display of scarves and Harlan pulled one out. It was black with shots of deep purple and blue woven throughout. He lifted my hand and wrapped it around my wrist. “How does it feel?” he asked.

  Instant heat flooded my system. A silk scarf was wrapped around my wrist and Harlan’s hard chest was pressing against my back.

  “Feel good, greedy girl?” he whispered, his lips brushing against my ear.

  I nodded. “Oh, yeah.”

  Harlan brushed my hair aside and placed his hand between my shoulder blades. “Did you think I wouldn’t notice what’s on the back of your T-shirt?”

  “I hoped you would.” My words sounded breathy and barely there, even to me. While I’d never been restrained in sex play before, it had always been a fantasy of mine, and the T-shirt clearly stated it with the words “Cuff Me, Fuck Me” written across the back.

  Harlan chuckled and stepped back, taking the scarf with him. “Pick out a few then, sweetheart. I want half a dozen.”

  My mind swam with ways to use half a dozen silk scarves in sex play, and there was no doubt whatsoever that these were going to be for sex play. Not when the fire in his eyes matched the one in my belly.

  We left the shop and started toward the entrance to Granville Island to find a cab. Butterflies had suddenly given birth in my stomach and I searched for something to distract myself.