Worth The Wait: A Nature Of Desire Series Novel (43 page)

Des hadn’t intended it as a juvenile joke, either. He’d delivered it with a straight look, tempered with the friendly handshake. Marcus was still considering him while Thomas moved in to smooth things.

“We’ve missed her, too,” he told Des, and glanced at Julie. “New York needs your humor to keep it from taking itself too seriously.”

“You were supposed to be holding up that end of things with your clear-eyed Southern perspective.”

“Marcus has been keeping me too busy. Josh warned me what it would be like to be married to my manager and I just didn’t listen.”

“Now you’re stuck with me for life,” Marcus said lightly, caressing Thomas’s nape.

Julie slid into the booth and Des took the seat next to her, his hand settling on her thigh as she curled her hands around his biceps to hold onto him. Under the lamp hanging over the table, he looked a little tired. The roofing job had been a big one, though. A couple of their usual guys had been unavailable, and the home was an eight thousand square foot estate with two guest houses they’d also wanted re-roofed.

The waitress arrived to take Des’s drink order and he requested a Redd’s Wicked Ale for Julie and an ice water with lemon for himself. Initial conversation was easy. Thomas asked Des about his day, and Des offered some high level details about the roofing job, which he confirmed had turned out to be a bear.

“Somebody married a Victorian monstrosity to a Cape Cod and it had a baby. That thing had about twenty different roof lines and steep peaks, dormers out the ass. We’ll get good money for it, but I don’t think the guys ever want to see one like it again. The lady who owns it is a theater buff, though.” Des tapped his water against Julie’s bottle. “I told her about Madison’s new place. Made it sound very trendy and on the wild side so she’d bring her friends. Might make her hair fall out when she sees a show.”

“Or she’ll love it,” Julie rebounded. “Middle-aged and older professional women are the ones who particularly love classy erotica. They just don’t have a lot of places they can see it that are comfortable for them. That’s part of what we’re trying to change.”

“You’re doing great,” Thomas said, and nodded to Des. “She showed us how things were going today at the theater.”

“She and Madison have done a hell of a job bringing it all together,” Des agreed. “They’ve created a lot of good buzz in the BDSM community here, because while no one cares about converting anyone, it’d be nice not to worry about so much ignorant backlash if it gets out a person is involved in the scene. Not a problem for me, but I know it’s a big issue for a lot of people, particularly those going through divorces and kid custody battles.”

Marcus gestured with his beer. “Plenty of otherwise intelligent people used to think that the word homosexual was synonymous with pedophile. So, here’s to things that are changing.”

They clinked their drinks together for the toast, and Marcus shifted subjects. “So, your opening salvo aside, I understand you’re quite a rigger. Did a little research on you. You’ve got a top notch reputation.”

Des inclined his head. “I’d say sorry about the salvo, but I’m not, unless it made Julie feel uncomfortable. That wasn’t my intention, love,” he told her, as if it were just the two of them at the table.

“It’s all right. Billie Dee warned me the three of you would have to do some yard dog circling stuff. Just warn me if anyone’s going to try and mark me.”

Thomas chuckled, but he looked at Des seriously. “That all may be true, but the real truth is we love her. We look out for her.”

“With that common ground, it doesn’t sound like we’re going to have any problems.” Des lifted a brow in Marcus’s direction. “Will we?”

Green eyes held brown for a long moment. When Thomas’s foot pressed on hers under the table, Julie caught his amused gaze, as he mouthed one word.
Breathe.

Marcus inclined his head. “Sounding like we won’t. So tell us more about your rigging work.”

“Oh my God, he’s amazing. You should have seen what he did in the first performance…”

Des didn’t seem to mind that she jumped in to gush. He leaned back in the booth and adjusted his arm along the seat rest, his fingers playing in her hair and caressing her shoulder as she spoke. When he asked them to do so, Marcus and Thomas shared some of their experiences with the BDSM world in New York. At length, Marcus put her back in the hot seat.

“How about you, Jules? How are you doing in this brave new world?”

She glanced at Des, whose encouraging expression told her she could share whatever she wished without offending him. “Des has helped me understand a lot more about the psychology, so I can help my performers shine even more. For my own self…” She thought about it, aware of their eyes on her, but particularly Des’s.

“I think I’ve found something that I want to keep exploring,” she admitted. “I love having Des…do the things he does to me. It feels great, not to have to play games, to have everything laid out so bare and honest. It’s scary sometimes, but it also feels peaceful. And wild and passionate, at the same time. If that makes sense.”

She looked up to meet Thomas’s understanding gaze. “It’s exactly like that,” he said. “Congratulations. Marcus was sure you’d embrace your submissive side with the right incentive and environment. Looks like you’ve got both here.”

“So is there a secret handshake now that I’m in the club?” she asked. She felt a little shaky at having said so much to them. But the honesty had been the right tactic, because Marcus’s gaze was less speculative and more relaxed, on both her and Des.

Though she’d known Marcus was a good friend, this version of his caring was new. During that look between him and Des, he’d almost intimidated her. Probably because his protective
and
Dom sides had hooked up and been on full power. She guessed her reaction was proof she did embrace a submissive side, though it was the Dom at her side that commanded her deepest responses and brought those cravings to life.

“Yes, there is a secret handshake,” Thomas said seriously. “We’ll show it to you at the special initiation rite where we’ll sacrifice a nubile virgin.”

“Okay. When does that happen?”

“It’s like a rave.” Marcus said. “You’ll get a text telling you where to meet.”

“Don’t think I’ve ever tied up a virgin,” Des said.

“You mean the BDSM world isn’t overrun with innocent virgins?” Julie smirked. “Imagine that.”

They ordered an appetizer while waiting for their meals, and the conversation started running the normal gamut for people getting to know one another. As she relaxed, she enjoyed watching Des handle himself with her friends. Since he was comfortable with almost everyone, she wasn’t surprised to see that he, Marcus and Thomas were bantering in no time like guys did when they found common ground.

Thomas was an artist, and Des was almost as serious about his rope craft. Marcus had an appreciation for all art forms. They didn’t leave her out, bringing her back into the conversation to talk more about how the latest performance went and how the theater would do going forward. After she laid out the current projects, Marcus was studying her thoughtfully again.

“Sounds like you won’t be coming home for some time.”

“I’ll make runs up to help Belinda, though she’s doing a good job without me. She’d probably be okay with me turning it over to her permanently. The board we set up when we incorporated as a nonprofit love her.”

“How about your parents?” Thomas asked. “When will they be back in the States?”

“Probably not for another six months. Mom is in love with Singapore right now. She wants me to come visit her there, and I probably will when our schedules match up. She’ll be thrilled if I can ask her for a plus one ticket.” Julie glanced at Des. “Want to go to Singapore in about six months, if I haven’t managed to scare you off?”

“Can I use the ticket even if you have?”

“Sure. I’ll tell them to put you in the cargo bay.”

“Ouch.” He flicked her hair off her brow. “You think your Mom will like me?”

“Oh, don’t waste your energy.” Julie grimaced. “She’ll wish you were a hedge fund manager or a distant relation to the British royal family. She keeps hoping that in my little theater ‘hobby’ I’ll meet an intensely rich and well connected investor. He’ll whisk me away and let me live in luxury while I give him two point five children before I die of boredom or a Xanax overdose. But once she gets over that, yeah, she’ll air kiss you just like she does me.”

At Des’s concerned look, Marcus lifted his beer to draw his attention. “Julie loves her mother. She just has her firmly planted in a reality scape that gives no quarter.”

“It’s the best way to love Mom,” Julie said practically. “Dad is so vague when it comes to dealing with family, you don’t need to worry about him. He likely won’t remember your name two minutes after he meets you. He goes through life like a rubber duck dropped square in the middle of a lake, floating along with no real direction when it comes to family. But he’s sharp with money. He’s connected to a Spanish royal line that goes back centuries, so there’s always been family money. He hires really good people to keep it making money for him and supporting us—Mom, my brother, sister and me—in the way he wants.”

At his quizzical look, she grinned. “Yeah, I guess I can trust you now. I doubt you’re a gold digger. My family’s loaded. In my twenties, I went through this rebellious phase where I was determined to earn my own way, not rely on their money. Dad, as mild-mannered as he is about everything else, nearly had an aneurysm. It took me a while to pull my head out of my ass and realize it had to do with him, not me. He had no problem with me working long hours and establishing a solid reputation in theater business. He just couldn’t handle me doing something as lowbrow as accepting a paycheck for it.”

Des blinked and she laughed. “Yeah, I know how it sounds. But he was much happier when I went from paid stage work to community theater, and that was our compromise.” Julie imitated her father’s smooth Spanish accent. ‘Go find something meaningful,
querida
, something that engages your passions. Change the world. Just honor your father by allowing him to care for you while you do.’

“He still fusses because I don’t care anything about having a house or a fancy car, all the things my siblings have, but he’s come a long way since our initial fights about it. Oh, and just a side note. Mom was a short-lived B-film star. She’s a knockout still.”

“Turtle and rabbits,” Des recalled. “Except for the knockout part. Now I know where you got your looks.”

“That was so the right thing to say.” She curled her hands around his arm again and hugged it to her breasts. “Seriously, we could have a great time in Singapore, so think about it. We’d have to do some family stuff, but then we could tour Malaysia or Indonesia. Mom and Dad would pay for everything, so the only lost income would be from any jobs you missed. And remember, it’s not a pride thing. It would genuinely hurt them if I didn’t let them handle the trip for both of us.”

“I’ve had the pleasure of meeting Mr. and Mrs. Ramirez, and everything she says is dead accurate,” Marcus added. “Her father has a very Old World sense of honor, but it’s oddly touching. And unchangeable.”

The conversation moved from there to other, less personal matters. Commercials on the surrounding TV screens, more about Marcus and Thomas’s life up in New York and Julie’s, when she was living there. She noticed Des was participating, but as their dinner moved into the second hour, he was getting quieter, doing more listening and smiling, though there was a slight strain to his face. His appetite was off, because he only ate half of the small meal he ordered, the rest untouched on his plate. He wasn’t feeling well.

She was sure of it, but there was no way she could draw attention to it without ruffling his feathers. That was the problem about getting so close to someone so fast, while at the same time not having enough of a foundation to justify acting…well, wifely. A scary word to pop into her head, but she couldn’t deny the drive.

When Marcus asked her about dessert, she shook her head, though the Oreo cake looked fabulous. “To tell the truth, guys, I’m a bit beat. It’s been a long day. I think I’m going to call it a night soon…”

“No, don’t do that.” Des stroked her leg. “I know you want dessert.”

“Want and need are two different things. My ass does not need that.”

“I’ve seen your ass. Cake does lovely things for it.”

Julie snorted, but caught the warning look in his eye. To hell with it. She went with honesty, putting her hand on his arm. “If you’ve had a long day, it’s cool if you want to head for home, okay?”

He coiled his fingers around hers and leaned in to brush his lips against her ear. As he spoke against it, she noticed Marcus and Thomas doing their best to look as if they were involved in conversation with one another, to give them the illusion of privacy. “I don’t want to go to bed without you, love,” Des murmured. “I’m all right. Just quiet.”

He lifted his head, looking toward Marcus to restore the four-way conversation. “How long have you two been together?”

“What do you mean?” Thomas asked blandly. “He’s just a good looking piece of ass I picked up on the plane. Looked like he needed someplace to go.”

Marcus grimaced at him. “Yeah, because North Carolina would be the destination a top grade piece of ass like me would choose for a good time.”

“Well, top grade maybe ten years ago. Now…”

Julie yelped as Marcus reached across the table and gave a lock of her hair a brutal yank.

“Little bitch,” he pronounced. “Des, you need to beat her. A lot. I’ll hold her down.”

“I can do the holding my own self, but thanks for the sanction,” Des rebounded.

“Doms encouraging Doms,” Thomas said to her. “Beware and run.”

“We only keep picking at you because you’ve been so sensitive about this ever since you hit your forties.” Julie sniffed at Marcus. “You’ll be beautiful to the day you die and you know it. Even then everyone will want one last time to admire your corpse.”

“Just make sure Thomas isn’t in charge of dressing me,” Marcus said, taking a sip of his beer.