Read She Shouldnt, But She Will Online
Authors: Francis Drake
She Shouldnt, But She Will
SHE SHOULDN’T,
BUT SHE WILL
The Passionate PIs
Francis Drake
EROTIC ROMANCE
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
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SHE SHOULDN’T, BUT SHE WILL
Copyright © 2007 by Francis Drake
ISBN: 1-933563-04-4
First E-book Publication: September 2007
Cover design by Jinger Heaston
All cover art and logo copyright © 2007 by Siren Publishing, Inc.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED:
This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.
All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.
PUBLISHER
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
The Passionate PIs
FRANCIS DRAKE
Copyright © 2007
Chapter 1
“You might get where you’re going faster if you walk,” the cabbie said, eyeing Cynthia Williams through the rearview mirror.
She twisted her hands and looked out the window at the same traffic jam that had stalled the cab’s progress for the past six minutes. Horns blared and exhaust fumes seeped through the window, stuck open an inch or two. In her cab, the driver tapped the steering wheel to a Latin beat blasting from the radio, calm as the meter flipped up to the next dollar.
The courage she’d built for the evening leached away with every minute she spent from her goal, meeting her blind date and hopefully embarking on a night on the wild side, a side Thia had always taken care to avoid. She would avoid it no longer, at least for tonight. If she didn’t talk herself out of the adventure while sitting in San Francisco traffic.
“I think you’re right. I’m already running late.”
Thia paid the driver and exited the taxi. She wished she’d had time to change after work. Her suit was designed to look professional, and she only hoped the fit and color—not to mention the heels—would soften the business look and make her seem sexier.
Tugging at the skirt of her tailored suit, she started off at a good clip. Several blocks and two alleys later, she entered the
Immediately, she started preparing her reasons for being late—a blown circuit breaker in her condo, someone had left the outer door open on the elevator and she had to manage four flights of stairs in heels, no taxis for a block and a half, and then the traffic jam due to the bike race in the city.
Aaron knew Thia’s best friend’s husband. July had assured Thia that Aaron was handsome, charming and a man who knew his way around women. From the stories she’d heard, July confided to Thia over lunch the previous week, he wouldn’t mind a one-night escapade, and Thia would be more than satisfied. God knew, she’d settle for less at this point. Just being held and looked at with appreciation would be better than she’d had in the past year.
After more than a year’s hiatus of being with a man, Thia had every intention of ending the dry spell, and Aaron sounded like the man to help. Now in the gallery, her heart thumped like a jungle drum.
For months after her husband’s death the previous year, sex had been the furthest thing from Thia’s mind. But lately, it seemed sex was all she thought about. The heat, the whispered words, the friction of one body against another, the scent—her breasts ached with the images those words conjured.
Nervously, she smoothed her hands over her hips, aware her fitted, soft lavender suit left little to the imagination as to the shape of her athletic body. She hoped the suit and pumps screamed,
Fuck me
.
And now, to find the man who would accommodate that wish.
Standing on tiptoes, she perused the gallery patrons, looking for a man who looked “handsome, charming and knew his way around women.” Rounding one of the many dividing walls she froze, staring up into a pair of the greenest eyes she had ever seen. Fighting the urge to stare but losing, her gaze started down more than six feet of bronze god, passing over broad shoulders before drifting down to a narrow waist and then powerful legs. She raised her head to see a full head of blond hair, a sexy half-smile and eyes evaluating her body as blatantly as she’d been evaluating his.
Oh my God, please let this be Aaron!
Before either could say a word, Thia’s cell phone rang. Without breaking her stare, she retrieved her phone. “Hello.” Her voice sounded breathy.
“Thia, this is Aaron Smith. I’m so sorry to do this, but I’m in the middle of a family emergency and won’t be able to make it tonight.”
Part of her was disappointed—the part that didn’t remember lessons her mother taught her about sex with strangers and giving away her charms. But then, her mom was a long way off.
“Oh. Well, okay, these things happen. Maybe we can try again some other time.”
“Thanks for understanding. I’ll give you a call.” He hung up. She followed suit.
So much for facing her sexuality. Her cooling off period in the taxi hadn’t been wasted after all. Just as well. Decorum dictated she shouldn’t have been up for sex with a blind date anyway. Now she needed to decide if she should go home or simply enjoy the art exhibit.
A subtle clearing of his throat brought her thoughts back to the object of her gaze and the decision to stay was made. His smile sent goose bumps skittering down her spine. Aaron’s cancellation meant she wouldn’t be fucked later. Or maybe not… She looked at the man standing before her again.
She smiled back. To hell with decorum. She was looking at a god and he was smiling at her. Mere mortals shouldn’t take such things lightly.
The god spoke. “May I help you? I’m Derek, one of the artists in tonight’s show.”
Take me back to your mountain top and fuck me silly. Down girl.
“That’s interesting. Which ones are yours?”
“Let me show you.” He turned and started toward the other side of the gallery. She trailed after, feeling like a puppy looking for a handout.
“These four are mine. Do you see anything you like?”
I see you, don’t I?
“Give me some time to look. There might be something I’d like to take home.”
“Just let me know.” His voice had dropped and Thia sucked in a breath.
“Most definitely,” she murmured.
Flirting like that was unlike her, but she’d psyched herself up so much for her date, the sensual innuendo seemed to come easily.
“Take your time,” Derek said. “I’ll be around.” He winked and flashed another smile that drove logical thought from her brain. Then he walked off, disappearing behind a wall that served as another gallery divider.
Thia sighed, then turned to look at the paintings attributed to Derek Anderson. They were beautiful, though the content was a bit provocative.
The first depicted a Middle Eastern desert tent. Vivid pillows and rugs were scattered across the floor. Near the center of the tent, a girl adorned in brightly colored but translucent silks, was locked in a bronze cage. She appeared subdued, neither happy nor sad.
Thia took a moment to examine each of Derek’s works. All of them portrayed the girl. In one of the paintings she danced. In another, she sat on her ankles and was fed by a sultan who also held a gold leash attached to a gemstone collar around the girl’s neck. Her hands appeared to be tied behind her. In the last painting, the sultan held out the leash to another man, also dressed in fine robes.
A sense of foreboding consumed Thia as she looked over the paintings. The one where the sultan surrendered the leash to the other man almost made her cry at the thought of what the girl would go through, surrendering to the whims of men.
Surrender. What would it be like? The girl didn’t look upset in the piece. Maybe relinquishing control to a man would be satisfying, even good.
God, Thia, give it up.
July was right. It was time to move on with her life and get a relationship.
Her gaze sought the picture of the girl being handed over again. The feelings it instilled were naughty and she shouldn’t want such art in her house, but she suddenly pictured it hanging above her bed. She wanted it. She had to have it. Derek was nowhere to be seen but Thia saw a woman in a business suit standing near a table of
hors d’oeuvres and wine
.
“Excuse me, can you tell me who I need to see about buying these paintings?”
“That would be me. My name is Fran and I own the gallery.”
“I’m interested in the series by Derek Anderson. They stirred my emotions.”
“I like them, too. Kind of romantic, in a funny sort of way. You’ll want all four, of course.” She raised her brows in question, but stated the words.
“It would be a shame to break them up,” Thia responded.
“It would indeed. They are each three hundred ninety-nine dollars. May I ask what about them made you feel so deeply?”
“I understand her dilemma. She’s trapped because the alternative of displeasing the sultan is much worse than asserting control.
Fran chuckled. “You could be right. I’ll have to ask Derek.”
“As the person directly or indirectly responsible for all decisions made in my company, I can appreciate how good it might feel to relinquish control once in awhile.” Thia grinned. “Of course, the stranger in the painting looks quite handsome. Surrendering to him might make for the time of the woman’s life.” She opened her purse and took out her checkbook. “Do you take checks?”
“A check will be fine. If you see anything else you like just let me know.” Fran placed sold signs in the sleeves under the pictures. “How do you know Derek?”
Thia ripped out the check and handed it to Fran. “I just met him when I came in this evening.”
“He has to be my favorite artist. He’s so easy to work with, and of course it doesn’t hurt he’s a real piece of eye candy. Unfortunately, I’m married and off the market.”
“I don’t suffer such a handicap,” Thia said with a laugh. She glanced around then leaned closer to Fran. “Is he seeing anybody?”
“No, I don’t think so. He stays mostly to himself. Women hit on him but he usually turns them down.”
A thought struck Thia. “Is he gay?”
Fran chuckled. “No. Just when he’s in a relationship he doesn’t cat around, and when he’s not, well, he likes to make the moves. I mean, look at those paintings. Does he imagine himself the one losing control or having it?”