Chapter One

“How many ways can a writer write insert tab A into slot B?”

Sitting on her balcony, Regina Cox reread the sex scene she’d just finished and groaned. It was awful, the worst she’d written. It was flat. No pizazz, no heat, and totally boring. A frustrated growl escaped as she hit the delete key, trashing yet another scene. She wanted hot-hot-hot. Sizzling, scorching, wowza. All she could manage was blah.

She reached into a crystal bowl and pulled out a small heart-shaped candy with the words, True Love, stamped into the center of the sweet.

Yeah, supposed to be writing about true love. Instead, she had pure dreck. What was wrong with her? She was a romance writer, had a dozen published books beneath her belt. So why was this story being so difficult? It wasn’t even a full-length book. Just a nice, valentine novella for next year. “Easy,” she’d said when she signed the contract. “Whip that little puppy out in no time.”

Ha! She held out the tiny heart, words facing the laptop. “See this, Jake Robinson. You are supposed to be falling in love, and you are not cooperating. This is your fault,” she accused her hero, then popped the treat into her mouth and crunched down.

Your problem, babe, not mine. I got the goods. Your bad if you can’t figure out how to use them.

“Ha! I blame you. You’re not talking to me. What makes you tick? Being a Dom isn’t enough. Wanting or needing power and control isn’t enough. I need to know you.” Well, she knew he was stubborn, closed mouth, and very choosy with his women. “What’s wrong with the subs I give you?”

She ran a hand through her hair, the silky strands fluttering around her face. “I’m losing it,” she grumbled. She was arguing with a character as though he were real and sitting across from her at the table.

Yep, losing it.

Yet, every writer in her critique group would understand. Dammit, the book was due in three weeks, and so far, she’d tossed out nearly everything she’d written. Twice.

“So, yeah, it’s your fault, Jake,” she muttered. “You don’t even have a heroine anymore. None of them are good enough for you.” The last one just ran off screen and jumped into the delete file in tears. Glaring at the words on the screen, she swore Jake was smirking at her.

Not my fault. She wasn’t heroine material. Not worthy. Not a true submissive. Gotta do better, babe. I’m worth it.

“Watch it, Jake, or you’ll end up in the trash folder. Maybe I need a new Dom.”

Fictional character and Dominant Jake lifted an arrogant brow and turned his back on her. At least that’s how it felt to Regina. She dropped her head in her hands.

The cool, morning breeze plucked at her hair, a teasing tug. She loved writing on her balcony with her laptop in the mornings, even during the winter, though you’d never know it was winter in Los Angeles. Today’s forecast was mid-eighties, which was much warmer than normal for February. It was peaceful, the early quiet broken by the chatter of a squirrel in the trees or a burst of song from a mockingbird or the cries of crows.

Maybe she needed a break. Or food. Had to be close to noon. She glanced at the time down on the corner of her screen and groaned. Just after nine. She flung herself back in her chair and scrubbed her hands over her face. She’d been at it since seven and didn’t have anything to show for two hours of work.

Standing, she paced. A long walk might clear her head, or she could go plan lunch. Hell, cleaning the toilets held more appeal than staring at a partial filled page and dealing with a stubborn-ass character.

Gathering her shawl around her to ward off the slight early morning chill, she leaned on the rail and lifted her face to the rays of warmth. Closing her eyes, she brought her image of Jake to mind. Tall, the build of a construction worker, a golden, sun-kissed body, black hair and smoldering blue eyes. Nothing wrong there.

He was supposed to be a fun, humorous guy. Instead, he was turning into a tall, dark, handsome, broody clichéd hero. She wanted a light story of a Dom just looking for some great sex and wham! Her hero is hit with Cupid’s bow. It should have been an easy story to write. After all, who wasn’t in the market for some great sex? “God, aren’t we all?”

Regina couldn’t remember the last time she’d had good sex. Hell, it’d been months since she’d had sex period, and that one nightstand had been—unmemorable. Even before, during her seven-year marriage, before her husband ran off with a perky, much younger woman, sex had turned routine and boring.

She grimaced. Writing love scenes held more appeal than the real deal. No more disappointments in bed, no pandering to self-centered males, and no being made to feel as though she was the worst lover on the face of the earth. The day her divorce became final, she’d adopted her mother’s mantra. Men Are Pigs.

But part of her, the romantic, wished she had someone loving and caring, someone who’d give her a nice, big heart-shaped box of chocolates and flowers for Valentine’s Day, which was tomorrow.

Sighing, she told herself not to be foolish. Her ex hadn’t even bothered the last few years of their marriage. Still, she yearned for it. Unfortunately, that meant she had to date, and she had no desire to do so. “Guess I’ll buy my own flowers and candy. That way I get the good stuff and won’t have to deal with the bad.”

The echoing sound of hammering shattered the morning quiet. She glanced to her left. And sucked in her breath. Down below, in the backyard next door, her real life model for Jake was on his hands and knees, pounding nails into the new deck he was constructing.

Though it was early, and the temperature held a bit of chill yet, her neighbor had stripped to the waist, giving her a fine view of his bronzed body. Her body hummed with appreciation as her gaze swept across wide shoulders and a long, smooth, back, gently curved as he welded the hammer. His arms bulged, and muscles rippled with each pounding blow.

Yep, hero material. He jumped to his feet with animal grace and fetched another board from a neatly stacked pile, treating her to a lovely view of tanned chest, the generous mat of dark hair, his tapered waist, and lean hips. She sighed.

The man had some serious abs. His ass-hugging jeans, worn low, funneled her gaze down the line of dark hair that disappeared beneath his waistband. Watching his smooth movements, the way his muscles bunched, she was reminded of a large, jungle cat. She didn’t think there was any animal quite as graceful as a feline, big or small.

When he set the board in place and dropped back down to his hands and knees, she licked her lips and eyed his prime ass. What she wouldn’t give to dig her fingers into those sweet cheeks. He wouldn’t have a flabby or fatty ass like her ex. His was all taut muscle.

Who would have thought that skinny, sulky, Tucker Owen would grow up and become a centerfold worthy hunk. God, add broody and she had a real life romance hero living next door and one she could happily stare at all day. Yep, prime eye candy.

After his father’s death four months ago, he’d moved back home after inheriting his father’s house, as she’d inherited her house nearly five years earlier. Regina had taken the time and every opportunity to watch and study her new neighbor. She hadn’t seen a lot of him growing up as his parents were divorced and he’d lived with his mother two states over. Tucker only came to stay with his father during school holidays and summers.

He’d been a sullen, sulky boy, four years her senior who’d wanted nothing to do with her during summer barbecues between the families. Not that it had mattered. She’d hounded him anyway. He’d been her first love, and as an adult, she was drawn to him, perhaps still a bit in love with him.

Well, in lust, as she didn’t really know the man. And following her new mantra, men were pigs, she wouldn’t allow herself to be sucked into a relationship. She sighed. He might be off limits, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t appreciated his very manly body and fantasize all she wanted.

He grabbed a bottle of water off the rail, uncapped it, and chugged the liquid down. The sight of his head tipped back and his throat bobbing sent her heart rate spiking. Though she’d vowed to forgo the male race and concentrate on her writing career, Tucker was one man she’d love to explore and get to know every delicious inch of his body.

Too bad dating a neighbor was as bad, in her mind, as a relationship with a co-worker. When the breakup came, one would be stuck seeing that person every, single day. Still, he was definitely hero material. Which probably meant he was anything but.

Good-looking men who knew they were good-looking had me issues, and as she’d gotten rid of her husband who had major it’s all about me issues, she’d stick to her fictional heroes and, when needed, her vibrator.

She returned to her computer. Perhaps modeling her hero after her unattainable neighbor was the root of her story issues. “Okay, Jake, let’s change it up. Give you blond hair, green eyes, and get rid of that dimple in your left cheek.” She rubbed the bridge of her nose. “Guess your chin dent has to go as well. Too much Tucker in Jake.”

Babe. Don’t mess with perfection.

Regina rolled her eyes. Yeah, Jake/Tucker in all his prime, male splendor was about as perfect a specimen as a writer could create. Definitely hero material. Letting out a frustrated breath, she pulled her hard copy from a folder to read and try to figure out what was wrong or missing. This much trouble usually meant something was off in her set up, so back to the beginning. After a few minutes, she tossed the sheets of paper onto the table in disgust.

“Okay, it’s not you, Jake. It’s the women. I need to do more research on the Dom/sub relationship.” That was where her story was flat. She was used to writing love scenes with lots of romance and foreplay and a good, strong emotional bond between her characters before intimacy came into play. What she had right now was two strangers engaging in sex.

Fine by me, babe. Like you, I don’t need a relationship. All I want is a good time.

“Doesn’t work that way.” Regina scowled. “You’re the hero. Gotta have a heroine and a happy ever after. Sorry buddy. You’re stuck being a Valentine hero.” She flipped to another file on her laptop. Back to goals, motivation, and conflict. And themes.

A gust of wind hit her from behind, blowing her hair forward and into her face. The sound of scattering sheets of paper had her swearing and jumping to her feet. She slapped her palms onto the stack of manuscript pages, but the gleeful wind swept most of them away.

Shit! Her shawl fell to the deck as she raced around the table, snagging a sheet soaring above her head, stomping one skittering along the wooden deck, and plucking several sheets plastered to the railing. To her horror, several others flew off the balcony and went airborne, fluttering and floating right over the fence like paper airplanes or magical carpets.

****

Tucker hammered home nail after nail, very aware of his sexy neighbor working on her balcony. Every morning when he staggered into his kitchen for his cup of joe, he’d peek out the window, and there she’d be, typing away on her laptop. He stood, stretched, and stole another glance at Regina Cox. The breeze tossed her long, silky red hair around her face like a cloud of fire. He had to admit, she was a striking woman with her pale complexion set off by all that glinting hair and eyes so green, they sparkled like jewels in the light.

He remembered how, as a rotten kid, he used to tease her mercilessly about her carrot-orange hair and freckles and make her blush at every opportunity just so he could laugh at her. And then, there was jumping out at her to scare her and listen to her high-pitched squeal. She’d get so mad at him, and of course, he’d end up in trouble from his father and her mother.

Yeah, little Gina had grown up. His body tightened with lust. She had the sweetest curves, and he longed to run his hands over that delectable body, but that wouldn’t happen. Ever. He was a Dom, and from what he’d seen of his neighbor, she was not submissive in any area of her life. She appeared to be a woman in full control, which was too bad.

He’d asked her out a few times—a cup of coffee, a movie, even a trip out to the lake for a picnic. She’d turned him down, gently, each time. He grimaced. According to the gossip mill that operated in the guise of the family-run market, she’d gone through a rough divorce. Her husband had driven off with the fancy car and a girl barely out of school. Regina had gotten her parents’ house and a decrepit Honda Civic. She was off men.

Yeah, too bad. He was bored with the current offerings of subs at the private club he frequented, and the nearest big city was just too far a drive to be practical. He had a timetable. Get the house fixed up, get it sold, and get the hell out of Los Angeles where the traffic and congestion made it hard to breathe, let alone get from one place to another.

That meant he didn’t have time to indulge in fantasies that currently included images of Regina draped over his spanking bench, her nicely curved ass in the air turning as pink as her face when she blushed. Hey, a Dom could dream, couldn’t he? Lately, that image of her accompanied him to bed as well.

He sighed. There was too much to do for him to be out here thinking of his neighbor. He’d taken leave from his job as a firefighter to deal with his dad’s house, which unfortunately needed a lot of renovations and repairs before he could sell it. Instead of working inside, being productive, he was spying on his sexy Gina like a teenager hoping for a naughty glimpse of the unattainable.

“Work,” he ordered himself, placing another board. Two boards later, the sound of a high-pitched squeal had him whipping around. Gina was scrambling to catch drifting sheets of paper floating around her like sparkles in a snow globe. Dropping nails and hammer, he stood and watched with interest and amusement. Damn, she sounded the same as she had at fourteen.

At nearly thirty, she wore a cute little yellow dress that left her arms bare. As she danced after the whirling sheets of paper, the wind flirted with her skirt, lifting the hem to reveal trim thighs, and when she bent down to snag a sheet of paper, he was treated to a mouth-watering view of her plump cleavage.

Lust slammed her greedy fist into his gut. God, he could easily imagine those creamy mounds capped with pale, pink peaks. His fingers twitched as though feeling the weight of her luscious flesh in his palms. She was more than a mouthful, and he’d bet she’d taste smooth, like a generous shot of whiskey—neat.

But when she turned, bent over to grab another sheet, and revealed lots of silky thigh and the hint of her nicely rounded ass, pure lust stabbed into his balls like tiny knives. He sucked in his breath. What he wouldn’t give to have her inside his playroom right now. His dick stirred as though agreeing with his mind.

“Forget it, buddy. Ain’t happening.” She’s a forever kind of woman, and he wasn’t looking for anything beyond good sex and easy companionship. He eyed the paper soaring over the fence and grimaced. Shit. Now he’d have to talk to her. He tried his best to keep his distance once she’d made it clear she wanted nothing to do with him. Why torture himself needlessly?

He seized a sheet floating toward him. Several others drifted to the lawn. One landed in the pool. He headed across the yard and just happened to glance at the paper in his hand. He came to a sudden stop, nearly tripping over his jaw as it hit the ground.

Lisa wiggled her ass as Jake spanked her once, twice, three times. Each slap stung and burned. Yet it felt good, igniting the lust deep inside her. His finger slid into her slick pussy. She moaned. “Yes, Jake. More.”

“Well, fuck me.” His neighbor was writing smut. Good god, he was reading his own fantasy of Regina restrained on his spanking bench, his palms circling her gloriously round ass cheeks. In his dreams, she quivered as she anticipated that first smack. He could almost smell her arousal, see her wet, swollen pussy, and shit, he could feel the walls of her pussy contracting around his cock as he plunged in to claim what he wanted and knew he’d never have.

His heart rate shot up into the stratosphere, and blood pooled between his legs. He snagged another sheet. Jake fucking a sub named Sally this time.

“Say you’re mine, pet. Mind to do whatever I want.” Jake thrust his cock into her pussy.

“I’m yours, Jake. Fuck me. Hard and fast. Please.” Sally tried to yank her hands free, but Jake had cuffed her wrists to his headboard and her ankles were restrained as well, leaving her spread open and ready. And all his.

“Oh, man.” There was his second fantasy. Gina. Cuffed. To his bed. Him fucking her until she begged for him to let her come, him keeping her at the peak but not letting her reach release until she screamed his name.

“Tucker?”

He blinked back to awareness with a start. Holy shit, so deeply immersed in his fantasy, he hadn’t heard her come through his gate and into the backyard. He swung his head around. Regina’s face was as red as her hair, she was chewing on her lower lip, and her gaze was fastened on the sheets of paper in his hands.

“Lose something, pet?”

If possible, her color brightened. “Oh, my god, you’re not reading that, are you?” She rushed forward.

“Can’t help it when the words just jump out at me.” He scanned the third sheet, and he allowed his eyes to pop wide open. This time, he read the passage aloud.

“Jake groaned when Melissa opened her mouth and sucked his cock hard and deep. The squeezing of her throat tore a string of fucks from him. His balls shot up into his throat. He shook with need. Sweat ran down the center of his back and pooled at the base of his spine. He groaned when he yanked his cock from her mouth.

“Again,” Jake demanded. And with a shout of triumph, he thrust his cock deep and shouted her name as cum shot from his dick.”

Regina snatched the pages from his hand. “That blast of wind came out of nowhere.” She glanced everywhere but at him.

Tucker wanted to pick her up, sling her over his shoulder, and carry her into his playroom. Or point to the ground and order his submissive to suck his cock. He yearned to see her full lips close over his dick, watch her head bob up and down, and feel her hands on his thighs and cupping his balls, squeezing lightly.

His voice wasn’t quite steady when he spoke. “I knew you were a writer, but I had no idea you wrote BDSM stuff.” Did she do more than just write about the lifestyle?

Flustered, Regina wrinkled her nose. “It’s called erotica, and it’s all part of the romance genre. Thank you for your help. I’m sorry to disturb you.”

“You can disturb me any time, Gina.” He leaned on the partially complete deck rail. “Do you play?”

She glanced over her shoulder. “Huh?”

“Are you Dominant or submissive?”

She flushed but rolled her eyes. “No, and neither. I’m just a writer.”

Tucker lifted a brow. “How about hands-on research?”

Regina crossed her arms across her chest, thrust out one hip, and tapped her foot impatiently. “Would you ask a mystery or horror writer how many people they’ve killed as part of their research to make their stories authentic?”

He nearly choked at her indignant reply. “Good point.”

Fire sparked deep in those clear, green eyes, reminding him how easily she’d lost her temper as a child and how much he’d driven her to do so. He’d always thought her pretty or cute but admitted when angry, she was downright beautiful and irresistible. She’d also been too young for him and out of his reach not living but a few weeks a year with his father, so he’d been meaner than need be to keep her distant.

“Thank you. People tend to make stupid remarks about romance writers and their research.”

“Perhaps because sex is so personal and we’re all voyeuristic when it comes to what goes on behind closed doors. So what’s the title of your book?” He kept her talking, not wanting her to leave, which was a big mistake on his part. What part of off men didn’t he understand?

“No clue,” she sighed. “Right now, there isn’t even much of a book. I’m about to toss it all into the garbage and start over.”

He lifted a brow. “What I read seemed good.” Good hell, he’d be lucky to hid his erection from her or have any hope at all of sleeping tonight.

Regina shook her head, fisted her hands, and balled up the sheets. “No. It’s not, but it’s kind of you to say so. I can’t believe I told my editor I could do this. I don’t know anything about BDSM or the lifestyle other than what I’ve found on-line.” She sighed. “I think I actually do need to do more research.”

Research? Oh yeah, he could help her with that. “You haven’t visited a dungeon or a BDSM club? Or talked to any real Doms?”

“No. There aren’t any clubs around here, and besides, I’m not so sure I’d be brave enough to go into one anyway. Can you see me going up to strange men to ask if they are Doms and if so, could they help me with my research.” She rolled her eyes. “That would bring out all the crazies.”

The thought of her seeking help from a stranger didn’t sit well with him. He stuck his hands in his pockets. “I can help you out.” Fuck, did he really just volunteer to help her?

Regina laughed. “I bet. Remember our earlier conversation? Don’t need to kill to write about murder?”

“Ah, pet, this is different. The relationship between a Dom and sub is about more than sex. Come with me. Got something I want to show you.” He hopped onto the deck and held out his hand.