“This is amazing,” Kathryn gushed to her friend the next afternoon, the one with the movie-star good looks and a smile that was natural and effortless. “Fancy hotel. Spa day. No wonder I’m always ecstatic to see you. But why do I feel like you’re trying to butter me up?”
“Don’t be silly. The spa day is for me,” Paco said, the lie absolutely adorable. “And since we could connect—two birds, one stone.”
But even with his plush chair reclined and eye mask on, Kathryn could see the tension Paco Robles’ perfect body held, from the tense line of his jaw to the vein that seemed ready to burst from his silky-smooth forehead.
“It must be tough, being one of the most powerful and influential men in the world.”
With all the responsibilities Paco carried on his muscular shoulders, it was clear that a few hours’ reprieve was as close to a day off as he probably ever got.
“It has its perks,” he murmured.
That was clear as she admired the beautiful Colorado wilderness from the setting of Paco’s penthouse suite, whose luxury furnishings and gilded fixtures easily rivaled those of Versailles, but that wasn’t the only similarity. Kathryn and Paco shared their intimate spa day with a butler, two manicurists, a chef, and two masseuses waiting in the wings. It was just how the man rolled.
But the two security guards sporting massive concealed weapons beneath their tailored suits might have been overkill. Or, the only way he could let his guard down and relax.
Their presence made Kathryn wonder. Paco wasn’t a worrier, and he never overreacted. Whatever he was dealing with, she hoped he knew he didn’t have to work it out alone. Instinctively, she placed a reassuring hand over his, careful not to smudge his fresh coat of clear polish.
In their plush robes and with drinks in hand, Kathryn might have been tipsier than usual. Trying to keep up with a man whose liver kicked into overtime around three in the afternoon was a tough job, but someone had to do it.
“Another round,” he called out, lifting a hand in the air.
See? Tough job.
The butler refreshed his glass before topping off her flute of champagne. Kathryn quickly sipped the brut, smiling as the bubbles tickled her nose. Unmoved, Paco simply lay there.
“Want to talk about it?”
The subtle shake of his head was enough. She let it go, but not before adding, “If you need anything, I’m here for you.”
He seemed to acknowledge her offer with a small nod, but said nothing else. Usually a chatterbox, Paco being this quiet was unnerving.
After taking another sip, Kathryn asked, “What’s it like?”
“What’s what like?” Paco lifted just enough of his mask to peek at her. His confusion looked entirely unnatural on him, making her giggle before she could get the words out.
“Oh, you know. Being a Dom.” She smiled, making the right sort of small talk that achieved its intended effect, replacing the tightness of his jaw with an inescapable grin.
The charming smile turned mischievous, curling with naughty intrigue. Removing his mask and tossing it aside, Paco popped that playful brow. The one that somehow managed to make the man clad in a ten-thousand-dollar suit seem sweet and approachable.
It’s not like Paco Robles was just another rich, handsome man with dangerous good looks and a body of toned muscles and two-percent body fat. And he wasn’t just another friend. He was Kathryn’s confidant, someone she’d half recklessly approached to be her Dom, because why not? He was gay, safe, and would carry that secret to the grave.
Fortunately for both of them, he’d declined, thrusting her into the path of the Dom who stole her heart. Jake. Thankfully, there was no lingering awkwardness between Kathryn and Paco. If anything, the experience had bonded them as friends. Friends with fetishes.
When the manicurist giggled, Paco’s stern words in what must have been her native language caused her to snort. “Keep massaging while you laugh,” he said, pointing a commanding finger straight at his feet.
“What did you say to them?” Kathryn asked softly, filled with curiosity.
“I reminded her that she can’t believe everything she hears about me. And that she’s not as innocent as she looks.”
The woman ducked her head, but there was no hiding her smile as she kneaded Paco’s pretty foot. Kathryn took a woeful look at her own Barney Rubble feet and sighed.
“At least Jake’s not a foot-fetish guy.”
“Maybe he will be when he sees how gorgeous those piggies look.” Paco held his glass to hers, inviting a toast. “To you and your journey down the BDSM brick road to the wonderful dungeon of Oz.”
“I’ll drink to that,” she said, and after they’d clinked glasses, she took a refreshing sip. “Mmm, this is so good.” Kathryn leaned back into her chair, allowing her mind to drift, trying to forget about how she’d tracked Jake’s phone earlier.
“So,” Paco said playfully as he sat back into his seat, his muscles now relaxed as his salacious grin worked overtime. “What makes you think I’m a Dom?”
“Well, you’re sure as hell not a sub,” she said, eliciting another round of delighted giggles from the girls tending to their feet.
“Maybe . . .” Paco stretched out the word, looking at each of the girls before turning to Kathryn. “I’m a switch.”
Kathryn nearly snorted a little of the expensive champagne straight out her nose. The thought of big bad Paco being a Dom one minute, then taking a flogging on the ass the next, was definitely a visual she hadn’t considered. And now, staring hard at him, she couldn’t tell if he was yanking her chain or possibly swung both ways.
“Is there such a thing?” she asked.
Paco relaxed back, beaming with a suggestive smile. “Welcome to the world of infinite possibilities. Anything—and I do mean anything—goes.” He sat up, releasing a string of exotic-sounding words that made both women scurry away.
Kathryn looked at her unpainted toes—all six of them. “Are they done?” she asked, half ready to reach for the polish and quickly finish the job herself before she and Paco moved on to their massages.
“No. I sent them away for a moment. Now, what do you really want to ask?”
Damn if that man didn’t always have a way of getting to the point.
Kathryn stammered through starting and stopping what she wanted to say. Paco waited patiently, letting her decide when the silence between them would be broken by her questions. Her worries.
“Jake hasn’t—”
“Stop,” Paco said firmly, holding up a freshly manicured hand. “As much as I love you, Kathryn, and would do just about anything for you, I still have to work with the man. I’d prefer not to carry mental images of him in a random assortment of creative positions.”
“No positions will be disclosed,” Kathryn said quickly. “It’s just that Jake hasn’t taken me—”
“Jake Russo hasn’t taken you?” Paco winked. “The man is seriously slipping.”
Kathryn frowned. “He hasn’t taken me . . . you know . . . out.”
“Out?” Paco said slowly.
“To a club. A BDSM club.” Her words came out somber and concerned. Hearing them aloud, she downed the rest of her bubbly, eager to swallow her ingratitude and silliness.
“Why aren’t you having this conversation with Jake? Communication, especially in this world, is important. As much as there is no judgment, there are also no assumptions.”
“Full disclosure? Because I think he’s keeping things from me. Secrets.”
“Hey,” Paco said, coaxing her gaze. “We all keep secrets. Even me. Even you.” He touched a finger to her nose.
Paco was right. When you worked in investigations, secrecy came with the territory. But this was different.
“Jake’s going to clubs without me.”
Paco set down his drink, studying Kathryn with a skeptical look. “What makes you say that?”
“Because he’s been going to them when he’s supposed to be away,” Kathryn said, deflating as she added, “In Boulder.”
“Boulder.” Paco echoed her, the doubt clearly written across his flawless brow. “The obvious hot spot of frisky business.”
Kathryn narrowed her eyes. “Fine. Let’s see where he is now.”
“Kathr—”
“Tut-tut!” Manicured hand in his face, she picked up her phone, careful of her freshly painted nails, and clicked on the phone-finder app. When the little pin popped up, she showed it to Paco. “Hmm, what’s this? He’s at one now.”
And there it was. That devilish grin of Paco’s that couldn’t be masked.
He enjoyed a long sip of his champagne, draining his glass. Like the loyal friend he was, he said nothing, letting a slow hmm hit the air, the you don’t say clinging to it like dew in a meadow.
Yeah, the man knew something, but by the narrow tease of his eyes and the curl of his lips, Kathryn would have better luck deciphering the meaning behind Stonehenge before being allowed into the secret vaults of Paco’s mind.
“Fine,” she said, not bothering to push it any further. “Can you at least tell me if I have anything to worry about?”
“Worry, no,” he said, dismissing her concerns with a subtle shake of the head and a growing smile. “If anyone needs to worry, it’s Jake.” That comment piqued her interest. “Because you’re many things, Kathryn Chase, but patient isn’t one of them.”
“I can be patient,” she said without an iota of conviction.
“Prove it. Let Jake tell you in his own time.”
“Since when is patience a punishable offense? Where’s the reward?”
“Punishment is your reward,” Paco sang, his glee apparent as he summoned the manicurists back over, a clear signal that any chatting about private matters was now done. “Let’s get wrapped up here and move on to our massages. Unless, of course, you want me to test your patience on that as well.”
Damn this man. Not only could he manipulate her, using her own weaknesses against her, but he always managed to do it with the charisma of the devil and the smile of a saint.
“Ahh-ha-ha.” Kathryn giggled as the woman’s hands tickled her feet, stripping away her feigned pout. “This is why I never get pedicures.”
But the tingling that traveled across her foot was worth it as the rest of her toes would now be the pretty pink piggies they deserved.
“You’re ticklish.” Paco grinned her way. “I’ll bet Jake has a lot of fun with that little tidbit.”
And he did, in so many ways that rocked Kathryn from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. But it was her turn to enjoy a long sip and say nothing more than hmm.