****
She woke in the morning and wandered out of the bedroom. Mark had cleaned up while she’d slept. He’d put the pizza away and cleaned the coffee table. Their dishes and glasses had been washed. Abby washed her toothbrush with dish soap, knowing she’d never look at it the same way again. The man was an evil genius. He’d promised to use his powers only for good.
She wrinkled her nose knowing that when she brushed her teeth it would probably taste like detergent. She sighed. It was a small price to pay for four orgasms. Fucking evil genius.
She got dressed and headed in to work, walking quickly past her boss’s office. She checked the reservation log on the computer and generated a few random keys for spot checking and then headed through the lobby. As the elevator doors were closing, a female voice asked her to hold it. She pressed the button and a tall, slim woman slid in between the doors.
Abby smiled at her then realized it was the same blonde she’d watched Susan check out last week. Abby watched her press the button for the third floor and the two women rode up in silence together. As the elevator dinged and the door slid open again, the blonde got out. Instinctively, Abby stepped out, too.
The blonde slowed and gave her a glance out of the corner of her eye. “Oh, sorry,” Abby said politely and skirted around her quickly. She looked down the hallway at the housekeeper loading towels into the push cart. “Wendy!” she called out and made her way over. Abby positioned herself to the side, so she could see the blonde in her peripheral vision. She proceeded to talk to Wendy about housekeeping supplies and the weekly schedule while watching the blonde use a key card to enter room 312. She smiled at Wendy as the room door closed down the hall. “Well, don’t let me keep you any longer. Just stop by my office if you need anything.”
Abby headed back downstairs and logged into the reservation computer. Room 312 was currently occupied by a Mr. Don Barnes. She searched for a reservation history and apparently Mr. Barnes was a quite the regular guest. He stayed at the hotel at least twice a month.
Ten minutes later, Abby, armed with a clipboard knocked on the door to Room 312. Several minutes passed and the blonde answered. Abby smiled politely. “Hello. I’m so sorry to disturb you. I’m Abigail Raines, the Assistant Manager.” Abby looked down at her clipboard. “It seems we had a sort of mini flood in the room above yours.” She leaned in and said in a conspiratorial tone, “Never leave towels in the bathtub,” she said. “Anyway, I’m just filling out the work log and I need to know if there’s any damage to the ceiling in your bathroom as a result. If there is we need to get someone in here right away.”
Beyond the blonde’s shoulder, an aging, potbellied man in trousers and not much else glared at her. Then he stomped to the bathroom. He came back out in a huff. “No. There’s nothing there.”
Abby kept the smile. “Well, thank you so much. I’m so sorry to have disturbed you. Will you let me send up a complimentary bottle of champagne for the trouble?”
The man’s scowl disappeared, but the blonde remained stoic. “Yeah,” he told her. “That’s- that’d be fine.”
“Excellent. Consider it on its way. Thanks again.”
Abby backed out of the door way and headed to the elevator. As the doors slid open on the lobby floor, her path was blocked by Kessler. “What are you doing?”
Abby looked startled for a moment then held up the clipboard, revealing the customer complaint that she’d faked. “I was overseeing a problem with the plumbing up on four.”
“Then why were you on three?”
“In case of water damage,” she said cooly. “I need to fill out the clean up order and I needed to know the full extent of the damage.”
His face relaxed a little. “Is there any?”
Abby shook her head. “Thankfully not that we’re seeing. We’ll have to keep any eye out for mold, of course, but I think we caught it just in time.”
Kessler rubbed his face. “Alright then. Good. Great.”
“I also have this month’s supply order ready. I’ll need you to check and sign.”
Kessler waved her off. “Just send it through. I have a meeting today.”
Abby nodded and watched Kessler walk away. She headed back to her office, closed the door and slumped in the chair. After a few moments, she dug her cell phone out of her purse and hit a number on speed dial.
“Coral Canyon. This is Chase. How may I help you?”
“Chase.”
“Abby!” came the effeminate male voice over the line. “How’s the sticks?”
“Not terrible. Not good. But not terrible.”
“Well, hurry up and come home with your tail between your legs, girl, because no one runs this town like you do and you are sorely missed.”
Abby smiled. “I miss you guys, too. But I am firmly entrenched.”
“Say it ain’t so,” Chase admonished.
“It is. But listen, I have...a question.”
“Hmmm, sounds intriguing. Lay it on me, girl.”
Abby looked up at her ceiling. “I have a stable behind my hotel.”
“A stable? In Grizzly Adams country?”
“Men are men everywhere, Chase.”
“Yes, they are,” Chase agreed.
“How do I protect myself?”
Chase sighed. “Little Abby Raines. Never does anything easy.”
“Nope. Not me.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Abby had a long list of vendors spread out over her desk when she looked up at the clock above the door. It was almost five and she was ready to get the hell out of there. She abandoned her paper tornado, pulled on her blazer, and retrieved her purse from her desk. She locked her office door and nodded to Susan as she headed out the front doors.
Halfway down the block to the parking structure, her phone rang. She smiled as she dug it out of her purse. “Are we going to watch another movie tonight?”
“Actually,” Mark replied, “I was wondering, since you’re from Vegas, how are you at poker?”
“What kind of poker?” she asked, her heels clipping on the hard concrete. “Hold ‘em? Stud? Omaha? Pai Gow? Chicago? Crazy Pineapple?” She paused. “
Strip poker
?”
Mark laughed. “I’m going out on a limb and assuming you know how to play. Thursday night is poker night at Shooter and Slick’s place. So, obviously clothes will be staying on. But you and I can play our own game sometime. I definitely wouldn’t mind a beautiful, naked woman parading around my house.”
Abby laughed. “Please. I’d take all your money.
And
your clothes.
You
could walk around naked for
me
.”
“Intriguing,” he replied. “I’m willing to risk it. But not tonight. How ‘bout I come pick you up at your place?”
Abby liked Sarah and the rest of Mark’s friends were definitely a fun bunch. “Yeah. I’m just getting off work so give me time to shower and change.”
Mark showed up close to six thirty. Abby had thrown on some jeans and a short sleeve blouse. She was surprised when he took her into his arms and kissed her as though he hadn’t seen her just last night. He rubbed his hands along her bare arms. “You look great, babe, but you need a jacket. I brought the bike.”
She grinned. “Okay,” she told him and took a short, black leather jacket out of the coat closet and slid it on. As she was zipping it up, Mark pushed her against the closet door and sealed his mouth over hers. “We may never make it out of here,” he told her. “I’ve been picturing you naked for the last hour. Bound, gagged, and at my mercy.” She shivered at his words. He grinned at her. “I think you like that idea,” he whispered.
Abby rolled her eyes to hide her embarrassment. She liked that idea
a lot
. She grabbed the arm of his jacket. “Come on,” she ordered.
She locked the front door and followed him to his Harley. He got on first and she threw her leg over, settling in behind him. Before he started the engine, she tapped him on the shoulder. He turned his head. “So, you’re gonna fuck me on this bike soon, right?” she asked.
She watched, feeling triumphant, as his jaw twitched. She leaned forward, lips to his ear. “I think you like that idea,” she teased.
“So much I might do it right now,” he replied in a gravel tone.
Abby had the good sense to be quiet. Chuckling over his defeat of her attempt at sass, he turned the bike’s engine over and pulled away from the curb. Abby slid her arms around his waist. She couldn’t decide which was more dangerous, the bike or the biker.
The Sullivan house was a large log cabin that sat just outside of town. It was nestled at the end of a country road in the hills and the sun was just setting behind it. Mark led her in through the front door without knocking and Abby saw that everyone else had already arrived.
Shooter took her jacket and hung it up. He mentioned Sarah was in the kitchen and Abby announced she was going to see if the other woman needed any help. She located the kitchen, which she could have done without the aid of Chris’ directions because of the mouth watering smell.
“Vegas!” Sarah cried as she saw her.
“Hey, Slick,” Abby replied. “Need any help.”
Sarah nodded. “I could use the head of lettuce in the fridge chopped while I finish these enchiladas.
“Um, yeah. I can probably do that,” Abby told her. But before she could, she felt two large hands clamp down on her shoulders.
“Cover me,” said a deep baritone voice. “I’m going in.” Hawk attempted to skirt around Abby and further into the kitchen, but Slick brandished a rolling pin.
“Out!” she demanded.
“Damn it, Vegas!” Hawk bellowed, turning on her. “You were supposed to cover me!”
Abby stared at him. “With what?” she demanded.
“I don’t know! Your feminine wiles!” he shot back.
“That doesn’t work on other females!” Sarah snapped. “Now go wash your hands! I’ll send Vegas out with chips and dip.”
Abby was impressed by the tiny woman’s ability to order around a man three times her size. “How do you get them to listen like that?” she asked.
Sarah laughed. “Easy. I’d just stop cooking. None of them is willing to risk it. Especially since Tex has been...busy.” The brunette gave Abby a sly smile. “He’s not cooking as much as he used to since he met you. They aren’t going to risk pissing me off and going back to ordering pizza.”
Abby blushed and washed her hands in the sink. “I’m not much of a cook. Which is about the same as saying I’m not much of an airline pilot. But I can follow orders.” She froze as she realized what she’d just said. Sarah giggled, though, which made Abby laugh, too. Twenty minutes later, after the cabbage was reasonably chopped, Abby stepped out onto the deck, balancing the bowl of chips and the guacamole dip precariously.
“So, it’s your weekend off,” Hawk said to Mark. “You gonna head to that club of yours like you do? Or are things with Vegas-”
“Hawk,” said Shooter flatly, looking past the large man at Abby.
Abby ducked her head and quickly walked forward. She pushed the bowls onto the table. “Here,” she said brightly. “I didn’t make the dip. So...it’s edible.” She spun and practically sprinted to the door.
“Abby,” Mark said from behind her and she heard him pushing back his chair.
“I have some more tomatoes to chop,” she told him. “You just hang out here.” She stepped inside and nearly broke out into a run back to the kitchen, but Mark caught her arm.
“Abby, stop,” he ordered.
She shook her head. “I wasn’t listening. I was just delivering food. I- I don’t-” She swallowed hard. “None of my business. You said I wasn’t...your type, really. I get it. You were up front about it. I’m just a charity case.”
He tilted her head up to meet his gaze, brushing his thumbs over her cheeks. “Hey. You are my type, Abby,” he assured her. “I’m not going to the club. I have no plans to go there anytime soon. And you are going to earn yourself a red ass if you ever talk about yourself that way again. You’re nobody’s charity case.”
“But I’m not your submissive,” she reminded him.
He sighed. “Abby, I explained that to you. It would be-”
“Challenging,” she finished for him. She’d understood that. Or at least the general idea of it since he hadn’t been too specific as to what would be expected of her other than to be at his beck and call sexually, which she pretty much already was. That and she’d have to learn to swallow. And anal. She cringed inside a little. But he had said he wouldn’t expect her to jump right in. She could put a toe in, maybe, and test the waters. “I want to try,” she said firmly.