She took a deep breath before she continued. “I’ve always liked having the men I went out with make all the dating decisions. Where to eat. What to do. I just wanted a man who would take charge. Whisk me away on a date. Surprise me, rather than ask permission for everything. Allen was like that. How I ever let him talk me into this, though…”
“I’m confused. I thought it was about the giving and receiving of pain. Master Damián was really hurting someone tonight—and she was loving it.”
Angelina shuddered. “There are some who get into the pain aspect. But for me, I wanted the feeling of being restrained. To give over control of my body to someone who would make me feel…I don’t know what. Whatever I was looking for, I didn’t find it with Allen—the Dom I came here with. He went too far down the pain scale for me. I thought I could trust him. We’d talked about what my limits were…” Angelina looked away, embarrassed that she’d gotten herself into a situation like this. “I’m not sure I would ever trust someone enough to let him restrain me like that again. I think I’m going to stick to my novels from now on.”
Angelina looked over at Karla, who nibbled on her lower lip.
“I’ve never…I haven’t really dated. I wanted a career first and foremost. But there’s someone I like a lot who is really into this stuff. I just don’t know how to tell if I could fit in. What if I tried it and hated it? He wouldn’t want to have anything to do with me again.”
Angelina felt sorry for the woman. She had it bad for someone, that’s for sure. But who was she to be dishing out advice for the BDSM lovelorn?
“Does he know how you feel?”
“No. He thinks of me…as a kid.”
Angelina thought she saw tears in her eyes. She wondered how much older he was than Karla, but didn’t want to pry. There was one thing she could advise the woman on, no matter what kind of kink or vanilla sex life she wanted. “Talk to him. Communication is the basis for any relationship. You might be surprised that he likes you that way, too.”
Karla’s voice was barely a whisper. “But what if he doesn’t? I don’t think I could bear having him reject me again.”
Again? Okay, that didn’t sound good.
“I was only sixteen the first time,” Karla was quick to explain.
Now this was getting weird. Angelina didn’t get into the Daddy Dom stuff she’d seen online. Ick. Just how old
was
this guy?
Okay, to each her own. Who was she to judge? They were both adults. “I know it’s a risk. But if you don’t try again, how will he ever know you’re serious about him, and not just in a teenage-crush way?”
“I guess you’re right. I’ll think about it. I’ll talk to my friend Cassie after I drop you off. Although she’s has her own problems with men. Why do they have to be so complicated?”
Angelina laughed. That was the understatement of the century.
“Oh, I almost forgot! Adam said you could use chocolate. I made these chocolate-peanut butter brownies earlier today.” She handed Angelina a plate of two brownie squares that set her stomach to rumbling. “They’re Master Adam’s favorite.”
Had Karla blushed when she said the Dom’s name? Was he the one she pined for? Oh, my! Angelina remembered him from when she’d turned in her paperwork. Tall, intimidating to the extreme, definitely older—at least mid forties, she’d guess, a generation older than Karla. Although he certainly was in better shape than Allen, who was at least twenty years younger.
Maybe Angelina should revise her words of advice to the timid young woman and warn her she’d be way out of her league with a Dom like him, especially if she wasn’t even sure she wanted to be in the lifestyle. No way would he accept anything but a well-behaved submissive, Angelina was certain. Was Karla even sure she was submissive?
Stay out of it. It’s not like you’re an expert on BDSM
.
Angelina munched on the best brownies she’d ever had. Who would have thought of adding peanut butter to a brownie? Holding up the last piece before popping it into her mouth, she said, “These are incredible.”
Karla smiled and thanked her, obviously pleased.
An uncomfortable silence fell between them. This time, Angelina felt the need to end it. “You wouldn’t happen to know where my clothes are, would you?”
“They’re in the dressing room downstairs. Adam…
Master
Adam said he’d send them up after the club closed. He needs to wait to see what’s left behind to determine which are yours.”
“Listen, I can tell you exactly what I left down there, if you wouldn’t mind retrieving them. I just want to go home and put this fiasco behind me as soon as possible. Would you be up for leaving soon?”
Her intense blue eyes lit with enthusiasm. “I’ll need to throw some things into a suitcase. I’ll get your clothes first, but we could leave within the hour. I’m sure Adam won’t mind.”
After telling her where to find her things, Angelina laid back down on the pillow and closed her eyes. Strange, disjointed images flitted through her mind. A wolf. An angel. And the most sensual lips she’d ever seen. Ever felt. Her lips tingled at the memory as if he’d just brushed them with his. Who was he? Had he kissed her, or had she only dreamed him up? Perhaps her mind had wanted to give her something with which to erase images of Allen.
If so, it worked for her! The sooner she forgot about Allen, the better.
Chapter Three
Luke Denton awoke with a start, his heart thudding against his chest.
“Maggie?” he whispered, his hand reaching out to her. Empty mattress. He squeezed his eyes closed. The dream had been so real, as if she were right here in bed with him again.
When was the last time he’d experienced this hollow, sinking feeling after reaching out and realizing she wasn’t there? That she’d never be sleeping beside him again?
All because of his stupidity and failing to take charge.
He looked around, not sure where he was. Dark room, strange bed, haunting images.
“
It’s time. I’m sending you an angel. She needs you
.”
Maggie. Her voice was as clear now as it had been in the dream. Images of a woman he didn’t know—long dark hair, olive skin—near a stand of golden aspens quaking against an intense blue sky. Man, did he ever dream in color.
Luke blinked a few times, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness. He began to make out a desk beyond the foot of the bed, a small round table near the window, and a nondescript stuffed chair in the corner. Motel room. He raised his head and looked at the bed next to him.
Covered only in a sheet, his bare torso half exposed, Marc slept on his side, turned away from him. Then he remembered where he was and why. Aspen Corners. They’d rescued some hikers late yesterday up on the slopes outside town. He and Marc had been asked to stick around and do the media circus thing later today. They’d drawn the short straws because they’d been the ones to find the group of hikers.
Aspen Corners. Of all places, why’d it have to be here?
Marc insisted on staying over, rather than drive the three hours to Denver only to turn around and head right back. His partner didn’t have another overnight wilderness trek to lead until Tuesday and had found someone to cover for him at the club. Luke didn’t have anything urgent he was working on that couldn’t wait till Saturday.
Still, he’d have walked to and from Denver if he could have avoided staying in this place. But then he’d have had to explain why the town caused him so much anxiety. He’d never told Marc the real reason he’d joined SAR.
He just hoped to get out of this damned town before he ran into any of the Giardano brothers. Tony and Rafe also worked on mountain search-and-rescue teams, but had been in Colorado Springs training this week. That left only two, but they wouldn’t know Luke or his dubious connection to their family.
The obituary had been branded onto his brain seven years ago. The fatal decision he and Maggie had made that day—one that had cost Maggie and a decent family man their lives—had haunted Luke every day since.
Veteran search-and-rescue worker, Antonio Giardano Sr., 58, lifelong resident of Aspen Corners, died while trying to rescue an injured hiker on Mt. Evans Wednesday. The hiker, Maggie Denton, a biologist from the University of Texas, also died in the accident.
Giardano is survived by his wife of twenty-seven years, Angela; four sons, Raphael, Franco, Matteo, and Antonio Jr.; and by one daughter, his youngest child, Angelina
.
No matter how many lives he saved since joining SAR he’d always be haunted by the man whose death he’d caused—and that he hadn’t been able to save his own wife.
* * *
“
Voli, cara. Fly apart for me
.”
Fly, dear.
Angelina awoke with a start, her heart and clit pounding in alternating rhythm. Once again, her dreams had been filled with erotic images that had haunted every night for the last month, ever since she’d woken up in that bedroom at Allen’s kink club in Denver.
Her nipples grew hard, aching for the touch of the man who dominated her dreams. His image was never clear, but often came to her as a wolf or an angel—sometimes both. How could someone who felt so real be a total figment of her imagination? Her creativity and imagination usually ended in the kitchen.
When she woke, the elusive encounters faded quickly, as if never there. But the feeling of strong arms surrounding her, a chin resting on the top of her head, made her feel safe for the first time since….
You’ve been reading too many angel and shapeshifter novels, Angie
.
She tossed the covers aside and sat up on the edge of the ornate wrought iron Italian bed that had belonged to Nonna and had been shipped over from Italy after her grandmother’s death. Before last month, Angelina had found peace and respite in this bed.
No more.
Thank God she’d never let Allen Martin join her here, or she’d have had to burn the mattress to exorcize his memory. What a bastard. When she’d looked at her backside in the mirror in Karla’s bathroom at the club and seen what Allen had done, she’d been furious.
Just thinking about the creep caused her blood to boil. She jumped up and headed to the shower. She had a happy-hour event to cater and needed to get going. She’d also promised Rico she’d stop by tonight for a drink. For the past month, she’d been hiding away from her friend’s bar for fear of running into Allen. Well, in a small town like Aspen Corners, the chances of meeting him were fairly good. But with the anger she’d built up since that night, she knew she’d be able to handle him when the time came.
Never again would she give him her power.
In fact, Angelina would never put herself in such a vulnerable position with any man again. She’d had enough BDSM to last a lifetime.
* * *
Angelina’s feet ached as she walked the two short blocks to daVinci’s bar. At least, she’d thought they’d be short, but she definitely shouldn’t have worn these damned heels, even if she did feel like dressing up “just because” for the first time in a long while. She felt like celebrating. The cocktail party had been a great success. Her business was taking off. She couldn’t hire any permanent staff yet, but each event put her closer to success.
And exhausted her. She loved being a caterer, but she often had to take on many aspects of overall event planning, as well. She’d much rather focus on what she loved to do more than anything—practice the culinary arts.
As she walked, her breasts bounced unrestrained, because the keyhole back in her new red knit dress forced her to remove her bra at the last minute. She kept meaning to order one of those backless bras, but never thought about it until she needed one. But after her self-pity weight gain this past month, this new dress fit better than any of the others in her closet.
The breeze off the snow-covered Rockies loosened wisps of hair from her topknot clip. She pulled the gauzy black silk shawl over her shoulders and held her girls to keep them from bouncing. No need to attract attention.
These late days of summer could deliver a wallop of snow on the nearby slopes, as some teenage hikers discovered this week when the fury of the Rockies caught them by surprise. SAR teams had descended on the town for days until the hikers were found safely yesterday.
Damned careless hikers
. When would they ever think about the rescue workers who had to risk their lives to save them all the time? All they could think about was their next adventure.
Angelina shook off the pain she felt every time she thought about the sacrifice her family made as a result of two careless hikers seven years ago. Her father had answered the call one too many times.
Miss you, Papa
.
Her good mood quickly hit the skids. If only she hadn’t promised Rico she’d stop in to see him tonight, she’d turn around and head back home to curl up with her e-reader and the newest BDSM novel by her favorite author. While she never wanted to encounter another real-life Dom, she loved to read about the near-perfect ones in her books. But she’d learned that reality bites in this alternative lifestyle.
Although she had to admit the Denver kink club’s owner, Master Adam, had been very kind to her. Even solicitous. He was none too happy about her insistence on leaving in the middle of the night last month. But Karla managed to convince him to relent and he gave the singer his satellite phone, just in case they ran into trouble. He’d even called Angelina later that day to check on her and make sure she was okay. He seemed nice.
A nice Dom? Yeah, right
. He was probably just concerned about her filing a lawsuit for damages she sustained at his club.
But the club’s singer did seem like someone Angelina would have welcomed as a friend, if they didn’t live so far apart. Karla didn’t seem too keen on the kinkster lifestyle either. On their drive to the Corners last month, the two spoke about many things, but pretty much agreed that pain and sex didn’t mix.
No thanks.
Angelina was surprised to look up and see daVinci’s was just a few steps away. She’d made the two blocks faster than she’d expected and hadn’t even noticed the pain in her feet. Well, until now. She strode into the dark bar.